Eisegesis - the act of reading in to a text.  The thing we are all guilty of when reading the Bible, especially the bits we know well and have heard since we were small.

Yesterday's Bible study - which was excellent - took us to the Samaritan woman at the well.  The notes, which are basically good, led us down that familiar path that says she must have been morally suspect because after all she had had five husbands and now lived with a man who was 'not really her husband' (GNB).  Here is classic eisegesis.

Had her five husbands died?

Had her five husbands each divorced her because she burned the tea (a legitimate excuse for divorce in those days I believe)

Had any of them loved her or had she been a mere chattel in various land-ownership deals?

And the man she now 'had' - did she choose him or did he choose her?  Was she a concubine (something that in OT times had failed to cause the divine eyebrows to rise)?

It is hard to imagine how hard life would have been for someone who had, for example, been widowed five times or divorced (sent away as displeasing) five times.  There is a danger that we read in to her status a sense that she had chosen not be married to this latest man, that somehow she was like a 21st century minor celeb in and out of divorce courts all too often.

So, I was a bit annoyed with the notes.

However, our leader had done a brilliant job and took us on in our thinking abour people who are despised because of who they are and/or what they.  We were introduced (or I was, some already knew of these folk) to Mary Seacole and Josephine Butler, each of whom worked with people on the margins of society and risked ridicule and rejection herself.  I found myself reminded of the BMS Night Light project in Thailand working with people trapped in the sex industry and of the risks that brings.  It also served as a reminder that there are women who work the streets of Glasgow to put food on the table for their children.

Mysteriously my personal devotions (IBRA) had the exact same text set for yesterday.  So to end here is the thing that struck me, it's not new, but it made me think.  Jesus wanted a drink of water, the despised woman had a bucket; if he was to get a drink he needed to ask her for help.  What does that say to me about pride, arrogance, independence and prejudice?  What is it I need that someone I despise can offer me?  Will I have the humility to ask?

Oh yes, a last thought... Jesus didn't say to the woman 'haste ye to the resgistry office and get ye wed' - how much do we impose our values/norms beyond what Jesus requires?

Yesterday I was at one of the hospitals to see one of the consultants to discuss some stuff.  When I arrived what I saw was truly beautiful...

One little old lady who struggled to walk, even with a stick

One consultant oncologist gently took her arm and walked slowly with her to his exmaination room.

Angels unawares perchance?

My fave metaphor for theology, and for thinking of God, is the kaleidoscope, an image I first encountered in a little book by a guy called Paul Minnear on Images of the Church.

Each new insight is like another chip of coloured glass and/or another twist or shake of the 'toy' and every new design is amazing.

This morning as I've laboured with my sermon it's been because the beauty of the images is too amazing to express in mere words.

Hope I can transmit some of my wonder to others and help them find new images/patterns of their own.

It appears this blog platform has undergone some changes which impact the format of posts... apologies for any confusion this may cause as I try to resolve the settings!

This is the name of a book of prayers by Kathy Keay, but it is also the two words that came to mind after yesterday evening's TV viewing.  Scheduling in Scotland is subtley different from England and Wales, so maybe the connection only works for those living in this TV area.

Firstly I watched the programme on BBC2 about people searching for silence, The Big Silence, which happened to include a delightful Glaswegian, so there was some 'home' interest.  As someone who regularly spends many hours in a kind of silence, but who is also (normally) very busy it was interesting to watch these folk seeking space.  I was challenged by the idea of hearing the stars, though hearing a candle flame is in my experience; I'd like to hear the stars singing...

Then I watched The Apprentice on BBC1, full of noise and nonsense and people who (as portrayed) postured and in one case had the audacity to accuse Mancunians of being backwards (OK my interpretation of what he said).  There was a lot of shouting, people talking over each other and not listening, as each sought to show that they were the one to be kept.  The contrast was stark.

And yet silence and shouting need not be opposites - sometimes it is in the silence that our deepest cries find articulation and we are able to shout silently.  The trailer for coming episodes of The Big Silence hints at the way silence opens us to express our shouts as well as maybe finding stillness.

The Elijah story of God in the sound of sheer silence is overworked, but it is notable that the story also includes a lot of shouting too.

Sometimes in the wee small hours, when sleep is evasive, and the drug effects causes thirst or discomfort, I find it is good just to be still in the silence and let the unspoken shouts of my inner most being wing heavenward where they are transformed into singing.