Cars, Walled Cities, and Loving Your Neighbor
some thoughts on cars
I wish we lived in a world where cars were not our main transportation.
The engine was a revolutionary invention. We enjoy so many luxuries because of Ford, Chevrolet, Toyota, Tesla, etc. If you need sugar, just take a quick trip to the store. If you need milk, Walmart is just down the road. Or you can order something on an app, and someone can have it to your house within the hour. There’s no need to turn off Wrestlemania.
And our communities are larger than ever.
I live in Boaz, Alabama, which has a population of 10,000, but in just thirty minutes, I can be in Gadsden or Guntersville. With Route 431 just down the block from my house, I can get to Walmart, Academy Outdoors, the Gadsden Mall, Guntersville harbor, or the state park before Cayden finishes watching an episode of Power Rangers.
But not only can I access resources or recreation, I can also be with friends. Mine and Laura’s parents both live within an hour drive of our house. Most of my high school friends are also within an hour drive. Church friends and other people in the community can be reached in just twenty minutes. If we’re meeting for lunch, it’s less time than that.
Perhaps, however, our communities are smaller than ever.
Who is Our Neighbor?
Because these supermarkets only exist because vehicles exist. And these supermarkets existing means that general stores and mom and pop shops don’t. If I need a cup of sugar, I don’t go to my neighbor and ask for a cup; instead, I drive and get a bag of sugar, check myself out, and try not to meet eyes with the person who checks bags at the exit (who used to be called the “greeter”).
I don’t attend the church I could walk to; instead, I attend a church that’s 12 minutes from my house by car, and most other people I know at church do the same. So I don’t pray and sing and study with my neighbors. I barely know their names.
Because I don’t depend on them for community. Besides complaining about the internet or waving at each other from time to time, most of my community is within driving distance, or far more common, across an internet connection.
How do we love our neighbors?
“Who is our neighbor?”
“Everyone is our neighbor!”
Yes, yes, but our neighbors are also our neighbors.
Has the universality of the greatest command combined with our “connectedness” to the world through phone and car robbed the greatest command of its most natural, and local, application?
Is a local church really “local” if none (or only a few) of its members are?
And this all brings us to the Year of Jubilee.
This Land is God’s Land
God told Moses, “The land shall not be sold in perpetuity, for the land is mine; with me you are but aliens and tenants. Throughout the land that you hold, you shall provide for the redemption of the land” (Leviticus 25:23–24).
That is, since the people were counted as aliens and tenants upon the land, if they “sold” a piece of it, there would be an opportunity for the family to redeem it later. But there were different rules depending on who the person was (a priest, for instance) and where the property was.
For example, property sold within a “walled city” was only redeemable for a year:
“If anyone sells a dwelling house in a walled city, it may be redeemed until a year has elapsed since its sale; the right of redemption shall be one year. If it is not redeemed before a full year has elapsed, a house that is in a walled city shall pass in perpetuity to the purchaser, throughout the generations; it shall not be released in the Jubilee. Leviticus 25:29–30
Homes within a village or open field, however, would be redeemed during, if not before, the Year of Jubilee:
But houses in villages that have no walls around them shall be classed as open country; they may be redeemed, and they shall be released in the Jubilee. Leviticus 25:31
In a sense, there was a “tax break” for living in a village or in the country, but there were obvious positives to living in a city.
One could access goods more easily, have the protection of walls, and would be under the protection of the rulers of that city.
But the “obvious choice” of living in a city betrayed a lack of faith in God.
Did the wall of Jericho stop Joshua? Did the chariots of Egypt prevail against Israel? Did the storehouses of Judah, the walls of Jerusalem, and the armies of Israel keep Nebuchadnezzar from taking the people into captivity?
God promised that the land would provide for the people. While they would be taking in the harvest, they would still be feasting on the harvests from years’ past. If they would just stand still, God would fight for them.
But like any humans at any time, we trust in God as far as we trust our central heat and cooling, our grocery store pickup, and our steady paycheck. We don’t check the mouths of fish for our tax dollars, and we don’t cast our nets to the other side because there are plenty of fish at the next store if we can’t find them at our first stop.
I Can Only Imagine
Imagine if our towns were designed to prioritize foot traffic over automobiles. Our sense of community would be enhanced, our local commerce would be prioritized, and even our health—our cardio—would improve.
We would have to love our neighbors, regardless of who they are, instead of retreating into our homogenous communities that are easily accessible by wheel or phone.
Our local churches would be local. Our dependence upon local agriculture, and possibly having our own farm or garden, would increase, which would mean our relationship with the land would strengthen.
We would lose out on many of our modern luxuries, but we would discover the gifts that are just outside our front door.
One concern with this approach might be our potential to become somewhat tribalistic and only love those who are our immediate neighbors, much like how we love our neighbors at a distance now through donations, missionaries, and tax dollars, if you can call this love.
But Leviticus has some wise words for us.
If one just reads Leviticus 19:17-18, one might come away with an “Our People First” mindset:
You shall not hate in your heart anyone of your kin; you shall reprove your neighbor, or you will incur guilt yourself. You shall not take vengeance or bear a grudge against any of your people, but you shall love your neighbor as yourself: I am the LORD. Leviticus 19:17–18
But just a few verses below this contain a shocking addendum to this command:
When an alien resides with you in your land, you shall not oppress the alien. The alien who resides with you shall be to you as the native-born among you; you shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt: I am the LORD your God. Leviticus 19:33–34
Who said Leviticus is boring?!
I know we won’t be getting rid of cars anytime soon, and I know that most people won’t see the benefit of walking into town, depending on neighbors instead of a supermarket, and giving up two-day shipping, but I’m allowed to dream, right?
And even if we don’t make these radical changes in our society, perhaps we can at least allow the dream of what it would be like if we did make these changes transform how we live now. Perhaps we can leave behind some of the unhelpful habits we’ve picked up from our dependence on technology and civilization (such as instant gratification), and live a life that is more neighborly.
To end, in the words of Mr. Rogers, won’t you be my neighbor?
So much interesting stuff to chew on here. I, too, wish we were less car-centric, and more neighborhood-focused. I grew up in the country; there was no neighborhood because there were no neighbors! Then I moved to NYC which is hyper local (and later Paris, which is the same). I loved that I could get nearly everything I needed in a ten block radius, and everything was done on foot. I got to know my neighbors, saw the same people all the time, and found a real intimacy in a place where people who aren't from there think there is none. Now, for nearly two decades, I've been tucked in a wooded and hilly rural/urban interface in Austin. When I moved here I brought the neighborhood sensibility I learned in NYC. I got to know everyone, spend a lot of time just hanging out on the street. It's a tight-knit place, especially compared to most American neighborhoods these days. But it does take work and intention to maintain some of those relationships, especially with folks who you wouldn't normally click with. In that regard it's like church. And, in fact, I try and bring the same spirit to my street as I do to church: be present, show up, love everyone, even and especially those I find unlovable (and hoping they do the same for me who, no doubt, many of them find unlovable), offer rides to and from doctors and airports. It adds busyness to an already busy life, but it also adds "life" I wouldn't have otherwise. And it's been a great way to raise a kid, showing him the value of knowing and caring for the people and place in which you live. Anyway, thank you for your reflections. They always get me thinking.