The Meaning of the City by Jacques Ellul

The Meaning of the City is French theologian Jacques Ellul’s attempt to grapple with the soteriological meaning of urbanization. Ellul’s instinct was to be suspicious of such a development. He was similarly wary of technology, which he felt could fundamentally impede spirituality, so it is hardly surprising that he should depict the emergence of the city as a negative development in salvation history. Ellul traces the city’s origins to Cain. When Cain was cursed to wander the earth, he reportedly feared that someone might kill him. God responded to this fear by placing a mark on Cain to ward away potential assailants. Cain, however, was unsatisfied with the security God proffered. He sought to create his own security by the creation of the world’s first city.

The story, however, does not end with Cain. Ellul’s book is concerned in large part with the city of Jerusalem, which God has adopted and turned into a holy city. To Ellul, this seems an unlikely development. The election of Jerusalem is not what we would expect from the warrior God of the nomadic Hebrews. The city is fundamentally opposed to him. Why would he adopt it? Jerusalem, moreover, is the worst of the worst. Why does God not choose a different city, or better yet start a new city? This paradox, according to Ellul, is full of meaning. In it we can discern God’s character and the nature of his plan for interaction with humankind.

In Ellul’s construction, the city is a place of open rebellion against God. It is a symbol of humans’ lack of trust in God, a search for security apart from him. That is its nature; it is fundamentally opposed to him. Ellul calls it a “counter-creation” (102), man’s prideful response to God’s perfect creation. Every city is identified with a fallen angel that is the spiritual force behind the city. These angels would like nothing more than to subvert the authority of Yahweh. In light of these characteristics, God has cursed the city. It seems clear what action he should take in this situation. He should separate his faithful from the cities and then destroy them, as he did with Lot’s family and Sodom and Gomorrah. Yet God does not choose to do so. He chooses the city of Jerusalem and makes it a holy city, adopting the counter-creation as his own. He chooses to meet man where he is, to drive out the fallen angels, to separate the city from its negative spiritual identity. God works tirelessly to heal the city, to cure it, to incorporate it into his purposes.

Not only does God resist the urge to destroy all of man’s cities, but he also resists simply starting a new city. He chooses to take what man has already created, to adopt it, and to very slowly correct it. When this process is finally completed, the reality of the old Jerusalem will give way to the reality of the New Jerusalem. It would be easy for God to find a nice empty little spot of land and build a city like the New Jersualem, one separate from all of man’s creations, one without a negative spiritual identity. But instead he chooses to adopt and transform the old Jerusalem.

That he chooses Jerusalem at all is very strange. It is a pagan city built by the Jebusites. It is a city full of bloodshed, a city so impure that Israel spurned it during its initial conquests in the Judges period. It is also a city of idolatry, and for this nearly all the prophets will condemn it. Even King David, who consecrates the city to Yahweh, does not understand. He insists upon building a temple within its walls. He places the Ark of the Covenant on the mount. These become political symbols more than symbols of consecration. They become symbols of power more than symbols of holiness. Jerusalem is certainly not an easy case. From the day God chooses it, he seems to be locked in an endless struggle with it. He destroys it again and again, exiles its inhabitants over and over. And to what avail? Seemingly none. But God does not give up. Each time he rebuilds the city. Each time he rebuilds the temple. He seems determined that these things be healed, that they be separated from the negative spiritual powers that drive them, and that they become entirely pure and devoted to him.

In all of this Ellul sees evidence that God is devoted to man, that he intends to honor his covenants, and that his love is far deeper than man can comprehend. God’s plan is not to start over. It is not to re-create. It is to adopt, and to heal. These are the truths behind the apparent paradox of Jerusalem’s election.

The tale that Ellul has spun here, the fabric of myth and social critique that he has so beautifully woven, is one that I find personally compelling. I cannot profess to know the meaning of the city, but my subjective judgment sees in it both the potential for great evil and the potential for considerable good. I do not know whether the time will come when God personally redeems the city, or whether this is entirely our work. But it is our work for the present, regardless of the eschatological, religious, or non-religious categories we place ourselves in. It is time to take a long, hard look at our cities and the injustices they represent, and to begin to be agents of transforming grace within their walls.