Now this may come as something of a shock to some readers, but parts of the Bible are made up!  Jesus told tales - stories - to get people thinking.  A lot of the time he didn't explain them, centuries' worth of scholars and preachers have done that (or tried to anyway).  It never ceases to shock me that there are people who think the parable of the Good Samaritan is an historic event, but there you go.  All of this is by way of saying that since this is "just" a story no-one should get concerned that I dare to put words into the mouths of the characters trying to see things from their perspective.  Jesus is not recorded as having made any value judgements about the robbers, priest or levite, yet we tend to think of them as 'bad people' in one way or another.  Were they?  Was it really that simple?  Is it really that simple for us?

The ideas aren't exactly original, but it's my attempt and may spark off ideas for others wanting to play in this way...

The Man

It’s a real nuisance having to do so much travelling for work, but there you go, it pays the bills and enables me to allow the children a few treats. The wife isn’t too keen – says she never sees me except every second weekend, says that the roads are dangerous with all these reports of bandits and robberies, but what am I to do? The boss says ‘go’ so I go. I know the road well by now, travel it every few weeks; it’s a familiar routine. Maybe too familiar – maybe I’m such a familiar sight walking along that stretch of road, carrying the same large pack that they knew I’d be coming. Who knows? Anyway, that particular day as I rounded the bend by the big boulder they pounced. How many? I don’t know. At least two, maybe more. To be honest when the fists are flying and the knives are out you don’t look do you? It was over pretty quickly and they’d gone – taking my pack, taking my robe, taking everything and leaving me lying there, beaten and bleeding by the road side.

Representative Robber

I’m a robber. Lowest of the low? It’s alright for you, nice house, donkey, holidays at lake Galilee, good seat in the synagogue. Some of us aren’t so lucky. As for those Romans and all their taxes to say nothing of the Temple – what a rip off that is, talk about daylight robbery! Take my hard earned cash and pay through the nose to swap it for temple coins to buy a lamb to purify myself…. I’ve got a wife and six kids to think about, never mind all this religious malarkey. Losing my job was the last straw, we need to eat like anyone else, and when my child got sick how was I meant to pay for medicine and doctors? What else could I do? And it’s not without risk, oh no. If the Romans catch you it curtains –nailed on a cross and left to die… who’d care for my family then? So I can’t get caught – have to make sure they can’t tell anyone who it was, and if that means a good beating…

Priest

I was travelling towards Jerusalem that day on my way to the Temple to undertake my duties.

This is what we do, why we are born, why we live… I am a priest, my father was a priest, his father before him and so on all the way back to Aaaron. There isn’t a choice about it, it’s just the way it is. Kept apart from other children as a boy lest I defile myself, I learned that it is a lonely life – a powerful one, a privileged one, but one with few friends. Indeed, the only people I was really allowed to mingle with were other priestly families, and then only after careful checks on cleanliness had been made. Keep yourself clean! Keep yourself clean! This was the phrase that haunted my childhood. When my best friend died I wasn’t allowed to attend his funeral because that would cause ritual uncleanliness…

So when I was on my way to the Temple, needing to be there in good time to fulfil my obligations, to help others regain their own cleanliness you can see that I had no choice but to stay pure. Seeing a beaten, possibly dying man on the road terrified me. As he looked towards me I felt so guilty but those words rang in my mind ‘keep yourself clean, keep yourself clean.’ I had to get to the Temple clean-people were depending on me, so I carefully crossed away from him and hurried on to offer purification sacrifices on behalf of others…

Levite

I was going out from Jerusalem that day, travelling part of the Jericho road on my way to visit relatives. We are not like other Jews, my father used to tell me, God gave us no land of our own, instead we were a special tithe, paid by the other tribes out of the bounty of the land. Our role is to support the priests and we have many tasks to fulfil, which mean we have to stay clean. It can make life difficult, but you have to do it, there’s no choice – people are depending on you. Just suppose you had come to the Temple to offer the sacrifice for cleansing after childbirth or illness and the priest said ‘I’m sorry I can’t offer your sacrifice because the Levite, who must wash my hands, is unclean.’ You wouldn’t be too pleased would you? I may not go out to work like the rest of you, and I may seem to have quite a privileged life, but carries a heavy weight of responsibility – I have to be very careful how I live because it impacts on so many others.

I felt for him, that man lying by the road, bleeding and beaten, but there wasn’t anything I could do – time out from Temple service because I’d deliberately made myself unclean? Unthinkable. I had no choice, I carried on walking, carefully keeping a safe distance.

Samaritan

Jericho to Jerusalem – yeah, I go that way quite often. I know the best inns to stay at, where the hay is fresh for my donkey and the food good. I know the spots to keep alert – where the bandits hide to leap out on unsuspecting Jews with more money than sense. I’m not so likely to get robbed, I’m a Samaritan – might as well have a big tattoo on my head saying ‘dirty foreign scum’! Not that there are no dangers, and the verbal abuse can be hard to cope with at times…

Anyway, there I am minding my own business, when I come across a body lying in the road. Well I thought it was a body, but as I got nearer I could hear it groaning, so I knew it was alive. Another victim of the bandits, I thought, as I went over to take a look.

Well, I did what anyone would do, didn’t I? This was a fellow human being in need – half-dead maybe, but still half-alive! How he squealed when I washed his wounds! By the time I’d got them all bandaged up – tearing my spare tunic for the purpose – he was sitting up and taking notice. I heaved him onto the donkey (who wasn’t too impressed) and set off for one of my favourite inns. The inn-keeper was surprised, to say the least, but took him inside and made him comfortable. I paid the going rate for a couple of night’s stay and promised that on my way back that way I’d pay anything extra.

Innkeeper

Surprised? You could say that! I knew the Samaritan well, one of my best customers: always paid in full, donkey well cared for and well behaved, great traveller’s tales to tell and exotic things to sell. Never seem him with a half-dead Jew before though! I mean, it doesn’t happen does it? They’re sworn enemies, won’t speak a civil word to each other, never mind get involved with each other’s messy lives…

The Man

After a couple of days rest in the inn I felt well enough to return home. My wife was a bit shocked by the sight of me, and gave me ear-ache about the dangers of travelling that road alone, but she was relieved I was alive. My boss wasn’t too chuffed about the lost merchandise, said I’d have to pay him for the losses. I have often wondered about the people I saw on the road that day. What was it that drove the robber to a life of crime and violence? Why does religious observance make people behave in ways that seem inhuman? Why would a foreigner stop to help his sworn enemy – goodness knows I’d have run a mile if I’d been able to when I saw him come towards me! I used to think it was easy, that I knew who was ‘good’ and who was ‘bad’ but now I’m not so sure…

It has been a busy few days and the jetlag/carlag is starting to take hold even if I haven't crossed any time zones or international borders.

Thursday morning was a 5a.m. start - I have long forgotten what these look like, though once they were a regular part of life when I used to join the Monday morning long distance commute which sees people travel half the length of the country to do their work (no, I don't understand the logic either).  East Midlands airport was incredibly busy with a queue for security the entire length of the check-in halls (so probably about quarter of a mile) despite the fact that all channels were open and staffed.  Progress through the queue was slow but steady apart from punctuations to allow those who had purchased queue-jumping tickets at £3 to push in ahead of us before being whisked through a dedicated security channel.  I'm not sure of the morality of money buying queue jumps - it just seems like someone cashing in on impatience and/or misery.  Anyway, the queue kept moving, via a very Alton Towers style maze (whereby you feel you're almost at the front of the queue then it twists and turns away again) and I passed through security just in time for the 'go to gate' message to appear - the furthest away gate of course which was probably quarter of a mile or so up and down stairs and along corridors.  I arrived at gate with about 2 mintues to spare - having arrived 90 minutes before boarding time!  Hey ho.  A good couple of days in and around Glasgow, sorting paperwork, looking at temporary accommodation and so on.  Amazing weather - I returned south (without the enormous queues for once) with more sun tan and more midge bites!

Saturday's wedding went well and apart from some light drizzle the weather stayed fairly good  even some sunshine at one point.  Bride and groom enjoyed the ceremony and only managed to muff words with no legal significance (though the groom did say something about becoming the wife at one point!).  Some fun gifts illustrated my talk including an orange triangular boomerang - to symbolise the loyalty, love and trust that the couple pledged each other in their vows - a wedding candle and a Welsh love spoon (not to stir with!).  Decided I must be getting old as I found the disco way too loud, but it was a fun and joyful occasion.

Yesterday I began a short series of sermons I am calling 'well-loved tales revisited' which picks up some of the best known parables and miracles of Jesus and looks at them afresh.  It's a bit of a cheat really - I looked at the lectionary and could not face preaching on the execution of John the Baptist so I used the Year C reading (the good Samaritan) for this week, and then spotted that next week year B has feeding the 5000.  My sermon used an idea pinched from the racial justice course of a week or two back, and had each character (except the donkey) justifying their actions and the man wondering why they each acted as they did.  I pointed out that in telling the tale Jesus did not judge the religious folk for behaving as they did, that is our eisegesis (reading in), and in telling their perspectives I drew on Torah references to priests and Levites, however our challenge is examine our own motives - are we more worried about the letter of the law than the spirit of the law?  As I had the man in the story say, 'why is it that sometimes religious people behave in ways that seem inhuman?'  Hmm.  It went down well and one of the folk who is a primary school teacher asked for a copy of it to adapt for her class assembly next term... wow!

Two and a half hours driving later I arrived in Manchester to attend the service of the little church closing their building.  I took with me a card my folk had signed as a token of support.  It was a lovely service, rich in symbolism and reflecting the character of the fellowship there.  It was good to see some of the folk whose lives have been touched by this little congregation with a big heart, and a privilege to share this moment with them.  Any church that sings 'I am the church, you are the church' ('the church is not a building...') must have a healthy grasp of ecclesiology in my book!

So, home again.  Today involves a 'pastoral lunch', contacting a potential preacher for my induction service at the church which isn't in Balamory (a suggestion made yesterday!) nor yet Glen Bogle or Brigadoon, and drawing up a massive 'to do' list for the process of moving.  All good fun - even if what I really feel like is sleeping for a week...

This a busy week, punctuated by the start of "the clearing of clutter" in the Dibley manse (a massive project) in which beginnings and endings and lots of travelling are intertwined.

Yesterday I spoke for the final time at Foxhuntington women's meeting - and had to smile that they'd chosen as their reading part of Luke 17 referring to end times on a day when a fairly serious thunder storm was happening - lightning even flashing right on cue.  So now I know, thunder is not angels banging drums (as the 4+ children told me last week) it is God chortling over some private joke on humanity; silly scientists, fancy thinking it's an electrical discharge!! ;-)

Today the lunch club wrinklies have a 'magical mystery tour' and I did suggest to the Almighty that 'dry would be good.'  I'm not a great fan of praying for good weather but I really can't face a coach load of screaming 90 year-olds if we have a big storm!  Also, paddling to a cafe for tea and cake is just not much fun.

Tomorrow is an early start as I fly up to Glasgow in time for breakfast for a couple of days with No Name Church (I used to work for a company whose initials were NNC, stnading for National Nuclear Corporation.  When GEC took us over the name was changed to NNC Ltd (a title allegedly bought cheaply from a small chip shop owner, something like Ned and Nancy's Chips) which stood for nothing, so we re-christned it the No Name Company.  In due course the church's online name will emerge I'm sure).  Lots of practical matters to talk over and a chance to explore the area a bit.

Saturday is the wedding at D+1 and then on Sunday after our service I will be driving to Manchester in the hope of arriving to share with another little church in the final service before their building is closed due to a compulsory purchase order (we may have had to close our buidling, but at least we had ages to clear it and it was sold and demolished pretty much on our terms).  Please pray for Tim and Clare and all at the home of dancing scarecrow as they move out into their own wilderness wanderings.

It may well be a little quieter in this corner of blogland for a bit - which is maybe no bad thing, as I suspect that sometimes, as my dad used to say, I open my mouth and my belly rumbles.

OK, so inspired by comments by Jim and Andy on a recent post, and with apologies to Robin Mark, here is the revised, non-standard version of my unfavourite song of the moment, designed to be used (or not) at a forthcoming event marking my ejection/exduction/chucking out from/leaving of Dibley...

If anyone has any more verses they wish to add, feel free via the comments section.  And if it looks a bit odd in Explorer (some with imported text seem to) ... well do as I did and shift to Firefox or some other more whizzy browser.

These aren’t the days of Elijah,

His chariot long since has flown:

And these aren’t the days of Your servant Moses,

No manna has been seen for years.

For these are days of departure,

When Dibley’s minister goes north,

And, we are a voice in the school hall singing

‘We think its the will of the Lord.’

Behold she goes, riding on a plane,

Or driving in a car, fallowing the call;

Lift your voice, it’s the day she goes away,

Abducted, expelled or what’s it called?.

These aren’t the days of Ezekiel,

No weird wheeled creatures we see;

And these aren’t the days of Your servant David,

- whose conduct simply won’t become

One in the pastoral office,

Whose life must be whiter than white!

For they must obey BUS and BUGB

To keep their names on the roll...

Last night we were at D+2 walking through the marriage ceremony I am conducting on Saturday.  The church is a multi-functional building, the main part of which houses a pre-school during the week, so I began by wheeling the display boards of paintings to the edge of the room and helped the pianist move the electronic keyboard into position so she could practice her timings.

All the key participants arrived and we set out a 'front row' of chairs so that people could begin to visualise what would be where (and take the weight off their feet!).  The music struck up and bride-to-be and father walked sedately down the 'aisle' before switiching to a giggling goose step - I could sense this was going to be a giggly walk through, and it was.

It is always a special moment hearing the couple speak aloud for the first time the promises they will make to each other, and seeing the enormity begin to strike home.  We had the inevitable stumbles over words - and are altering a non-legal bit so they can their tongues round it  - and much giggling.  The funniest moment was when I read out part of the vow and the groom-to-be said "what was that?" having not heard a word I'd said.

This was the first couple I've met who opted to 'rehearse' the kiss following the declaration (which I don't read out at the walk through), which was actually surprisingly moving for the gathered onlookers.  Then when it got to the walk from church they chose to skip.  I almost wish they would do so on Saturday, though a long white frock will make it a tad tricky!

This will only be the fourth marriage I've conducted, and like the other three there is a really moving underlying story of how the couple reached this moment.  In a time when marriage is somewhat out of vogue, it is wonderful to have two people who want to 'plight their troth' in this way.  The last year has been especially tough for this young couple; the bride-to-be's mother died last autumn and the groom-to-be recently lost his job.  There are the inevitable 'interesting' relatives who may or may not turn up and may or may not behave if they do.  There are the sneering bystanders who are vocal in their judgements.  But here are two young people who have had their struggles and stayed together, who want to make their vows in an overtly Christian setting and who have entrusted me with their special day.  It seems to me that is reason enoguh to skip up, down and through the aisle!

G & R may God bless you with a lifetime of loyalty, love and trust.