Daily Worship

Deserts with windaes

James Cathcart December 11, 2022 0 2
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Isaiah 35: 1-10 (NRSVA)

1 The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad,
    the desert shall rejoice and blossom;
like the crocus 2 it shall blossom abundantly,
    and rejoice with joy and singing.
The glory of Lebanon shall be given to it,
    the majesty of Carmel and Sharon.
They shall see the glory of the Lord,
    the majesty of our God.

3 Strengthen the weak hands,
    and make firm the feeble knees.
4 Say to those who are of a fearful heart,
    ‘Be strong, do not fear!
Here is your God.
    He will come with vengeance,
with terrible recompense.
    He will come and save you.’

5 Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened,
    and the ears of the deaf unstopped;
6 then the lame shall leap like a deer,
    and the tongue of the speechless sing for joy.
For waters shall break forth in the wilderness,
    and streams in the desert;
7 the burning sand shall become a pool,
    and the thirsty ground springs of water;
the haunt of jackals shall become a swamp,
    the grass shall become reeds and rushes.

8 A highway shall be there,
    and it shall be called the Holy Way;
the unclean shall not travel on it,
    but it shall be for God’s people;
    no traveller, not even fools, shall go astray.
9 No lion shall be there,
    nor shall any ravenous beast come up on it;
they shall not be found there,
    but the redeemed shall walk there.
10 And the ransomed of the Lord shall return,
    and come to Zion with singing;
everlasting joy shall be upon their heads;
    they shall obtain joy and gladness,
    and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.

Billy Connolly once described Drumchapel — an area on the outskirts of Glasgow where he lived as a youth — as ‘a desert with windaes.’

It’s an evocative phrase… to knee you in the gut. A desert, a place where it’s hard for anything to grow. Glasgow, like many European cities, optimistically built several large developments in the middle of the twentieth century. Unfortunately this post-war urban design was often a mixed blessing with there being issues with the accessibility of amenities and community resources for the big relocating populations. It’s a complicated picture, one I only know a little bit about. The housing did bring some quality of life improvements and helped address inner-city overcrowding. But — often built on flat former fields and farmland — they sometimes came at the cost of an initial stark emptiness like Connolly describes. A vision, only partly realised, of new possibility. A vacuum without the support of long established local networks.

The particular estate Connolly lived in, and many others, have since been demolished, having much shorter lifespans than The Big Yin himself. What was innovative just a few decades ago gets swept away as we continually work out how thousands of people can live and thrive together.

We know many of our towns and cities aren’t what they could be. Our semi-shuttered high streets have been hollowing out for years and small businesses, charities, libraries and churches have all faced additional pressure from the pandemic and the cost of living crisis. They aren’t always very welcoming places to be. Walking past the few big brands that survive you can often struggle to find any kind of seat or shelter — any kind of space at all — where you can sit and breathe without having to part with your cash.

They’re deserts with croissants.

But they don’t have to be. And they won’t always be. New life can grow in the harshest conditions and water can break forth in the wilderness. Genuine hospitality can foster the support networks we all rely on. Ecological, social and community transformation that honours the innate dignity of all life in all its vibrancy can and will blossom. We just have to be part of it.

 

PRAYER:

 

River-maker,

Inspire us to

nurse new life

and nurture new beginnings

that the desert might flower.

Amen.