I have been struck by an likely connection between two very different places: our own villages, and Gaza. Both face concerns about housing and infrastructure.
Gaza’s is tragically being flattened: homes and hospitals destroyed, people driven out (and worse). In our villages (thankfully on a scale of seriousness far smaller than Gaza), housing developments are proposed, midst strained or inadequate infrastructure.
Our homes are so important for us. They give security and stability, familiarity and community. They form the fabric of our lives and create memories. We naturally wish to protect our homes and the local environment in which they sit. We are fortunate to live in a green and pleasant part of the land.
But for some people, such homes are an unattainable aspiration. Midst a national housing crisis, many who would dearly love to live in our communities, particularly young adults, find there is insufficient housing, let alone anything affordable. New housing may be one person’s curse but another’s blessing.
Whether or not we’re religious, religions offer stories. The story of death and resurrection reaches our deepest roots. Easter eggs may have vanished from the shops by Easter Monday, but the church celebrates Easter right through May. Why? We continually face loss in our lives, yet the Resurrection signposts hope for futures better than we could imagine.
There are often good practical reasons why particular housing developments may be unwise, and new housing must be proportionate. But might the future it brings sometimes be better than we imagine? Most of us live in houses that were once green fields, of course. For those for whom local housing is just a dream, their imaginations could be realised.
Homes. Most of us are blessed with good ones. We grieve for those whose homes have been destroyed, whether in Gaza, Ukraine or elsewhere. May all who live in future housing in our villages bring blessing to our communities, and be blessed here as we are.
