I Happen to Like New York

I happen to like New York. (No offense, Hackensack.)

My fascination with the big apple began in college. I took a week-long course, in December of 2001, that consisted of attending Broadway shows and writing an essay for each.

It was a delightful week, and I caught the big city bug.

The energy, the crowds, the feeling that you were somewhere, the skyline, the diversity and stories.

I hiked the Smokies often in college. But I discovered walking the city streets included everything I loved about hiking; it was the adventure of exploration and survival.

To me, the big city even provided a kind of reflective solitude. You could be an anonymous one in a crowd of so many.

After that week, I would go back to New York City for many more adventures.

Every now and again I still get the itch, and I have to go again.

I happen to like New York.

—

So, of course, when I first heard the song “I Happen to Like New York,” I immediately understood the sentiment:

I like the city air, I like to drink of it
The more I see New York, the more I think of it
I like the sight and the sound and even the stink of it
I happen to like New York

I like to go to Battery Park and watch the liners booming in
I often ask myself why should it be
That they come so far across the sea?
I suppose it's because they all agree with me
They happen to like New York

I get it. Actually, last summer I was at Battery Park watching boats cruise by the Statue of Liberty. My nephew and I snaked up Manhattan that day. From Battery Park to Wall Street and the World Trade memorial, to Chinatown and Little Italy, then to Washington Square and Fifth Avenue and Central Park, until we caught the subway to the Bronx for a Yankees game against the Red Sox.

I happen to like New York.

But the song has a strange line.

—

At the emotional climax of the song (both Judy Garland and Bobby Short sing moving versions, and I cannot decide which I like better), the singer imagines the day of their death (“And when I have to give the world my last farewell // And the undertaker comes to ring my funeral bell”) and then makes an odd statement:

I don't wanna go to heaven, don't wanna go to hell
I happen to like New York

New York over hell? Sure.
New York over heaven? Really?

And, in the song, not only is the statement made, but I think an ache comes through, a pang and a longing:

“When it’s all over, please, I wish I could stay in New York.”

What’s going on here?

—

I suggest we can understand this longing from three vantage points.

Community. We were made for community and communities. Whether it be a city, a town, or a village, there is something in that interplay of humans and stories and giftings that is fundamental to our existence, that deeply resonates with us, that is connected to our flourishing. Indeed, the final scenes of the Book of Revelation envision a grand city, the new Jerusalem. Of course, the new Jerusalem is not like our cities today. It is a redeemed city where peace reigns and God dwells. But knowing that we were created for community and that we are headed towards that grand City can help us understand why someone might long for a city they knew here in this lifetime.

Earthlings. We are made of earthly materials (carbon). We are made for the earth. We are to tend it and cultivate it and make something of it (Genesis 1:28). In nature, we see something of God’s character and glory (Psalm 19). So as we stroll this rock, we feel most alive, most real, most precious. It is hard to picture another existence. The grimy streets of New York feel like home because earth is our home and was to be our home and will be our home (Revelation 21:1).

Eternity. We were meant to stay. Man and woman were to live eternally before God on this earth. But sin brought death (Romans 6:23). So now we cannot help but deeply long to stay. We still have a sense of eternity in our hearts (Ecclesiastes 3:11). To bid farewell to earth from any beloved hamlet we know, New York or otherwise, will forever feel wrong.

—
So why might they croon about New York but not heaven? Perhaps because New York touches on something true: our need for community, our identity as earthlings, and our sense of eternal place.

But no doubt this longing also stems from a misunderstanding about eternity future.

—
This may come as a surprise to you, but the Bible never says we will spend eternity in some ethereal state, strewn among clouds, with harps in hand. Just the opposite.

The Bible teaches we will receive back physical bodies, but now redeemed from the power of sin and death (1 Corinthians 15). It says we will live on a new earth (Revelations 21:1). It says we will enjoy the grandest and truest city (Revelation 21:2). And it says we will at last stay forever, in the presence of our God (Revelation 21:3-4).

—
So as it turns out, the ache of the song may be wrong in the details but right in the heart.

It may not be New York you dream of; perhaps it is Our Town. But your dream and your ache is anchored in something very real.

Your longing speaks to an origin and destiny the Bible explains. You were meant to live on this earth, forever, in blessed fellowship with your neighbor and your God. That has been ruined by sin but the longing remains (and surfaces in songs like “I Happen to Like New York”).

The good news is that God will redeem this world and restore the vision. We will live again, on the earth, in blessed fellowship with neighbor and God, forever.

Jesus offers this future to all who come to him.