I came across this in a book of liturgies and prayers.  I found it helpful.  Others may too.

O Divine One,

Source of the feminine live-force,

I thank you this day

For your life-energy within my body,

For the order of its rhythms and cycles.

Even though I no longer have

My blood time to mark my cycles,

Teach me to listen with my inner ear

To the other cycles and patterns

Of my body.

As I listen with attentiveness and respect,

May I daily grow in understanding

Of how to care for my body

With gentleness and love.

May I always remember

That my femininity

Is an integral part of me,

Regardless of whether I am fertile or not.

And, as I listen with greater reverence

To that rhythm of your gifts within me,

May I allow the special gifts

Of this stage of my life to emerge

Creating space for the wise woman within me

To find fuller expression in my life.

Abigail Rian Evans, Healing Liturgies for the Seasons of Life, Westminster John Knox, 2004, page 88

Yesterday I was preaching on the parable recorded only by Luke, which appears at Chapter 10 vv25 - 37 of that gospel.  I had been asking myself, as I researched commentaries and websites, 'why does Luke tell us this story and no-one else?'

I have preached on this story oodles of times, sometimes trying to redeem the 'villains' the Priest and the Levite, sometimes trying to think who might I/we cast in the role of 'Samaritan'.  This week, as I wrote my sermon I felt 'convicted' (whatever that means!) about the popular title, 'The Good Samaritan' and how this perpetuates the bias against Samaritan people.  By naming the parable as we do (and neither Jesus not Luke use the term 'Good Samaritan') we make him an exception, a 'good baddy' - we can still despise Samaritans in general because this was a rare good one.

I remember, many years ago now, someone referring to me a 'nice English person,' as if I was somehow distinct from the rest of those born or living in that nation, who were, by inference at least, not 'nice'.  I found it hurtful but didn't really understand why - the person was, I am sure, well intended, probably trying to make me feel better about something, but it felt  like a kind of 'othering'.

Other comments I have almost certainly used, or have heard used would include 'present company excepted' or 'but I don't mean you' or 'it's not personal'...

'Women don't make good leaders, they are too emotional - present company excepted'

'It's not personal, but I don't think that women should be allowed to preach'

'Brits are so cold and formal - but I don't mean you'

And so on, we can all add our own examples I am sure , it's hard to imagine that many people have never heard or used such a phrase.

When I was doing some work looking at racial justice, white privilege and biases, I came across the idea of 'exceptionalism' - the risk (and reality) that I/we can make exceptions for people we like and admire, without noticing or naming our own biases... the the 'Good Samaritan' allows us to appreciate the individual without recognising or naming our bias against Samaritans in general.  Okay, so we aren't biased against actual first century Samaritans, but I know I certainly have biases based on nationality, politics and world view. I don't think I am that unusual!

I find myself strongly challenged by this familiar story, whose message I thought I fully understood, to the extent that I need to find a new title for it that does not depend on the unconscious exceptionalism of making a baddy 'good'. 

So why did Luke tell is this story?  Yesterday I postulated that as a gentile writing for gentiles, this story in which 'someone like me (only possibly even more of an outsider than I will ever be) becomes the hero... in keeping with the universal love ethic of Jesus in this gospel, it is the often 'outsider'  who gets it and acts as example to those inside. Hmm.

The Lord, as always, has more light and truth to break forth from the Word.   

This week I've been looking at a parable from Luke that includes a Priest, a Levite and a Samaritan.  It has been really interesting doing the reading, but the wrangling of a sermon has been far harder.  I could write a lecture/presentation no bother, but that's not what a sermon is.  Perhaps as well it's called a reflection then!

A bit of Talmud/Mishnah has shown me a totally new angle on this - hopefully it works out okay in the delivery!