Entries from April 2010 ↓

The woman at the well.

The story, every interpretation of the story told about the conversation about Jesus confronting the woman at the well . . .

5 husbands.

What a whore.

Except this implies women had rights to divorce.

Which, according to every other thing you say about women in this era, they didn’t. And in many middle-eastern countries they don’t now.

Reminds me of the time a woman stood up in a room full of people and said, “I’ve been married three times, so I want to give you advice about marriage.”

Everyone immediately stopped hearing her – divorced three times. Whore. Loser.

“Two died. Still married to the last. Happy during every one,” she said.

Everyone’s perception of her shifted immediately.

I once asked a preacher what the other alternatives and theories were about this woman who Jesus spoke to.

“There are none.”

That’s what he said.

“There are none.”

That just proves your utter lack of imagination about the power of women.

How bout this one . . .

She was a trusted mystic.

People died a lot in her day. Animals, the sun, wars, disease and little knowledge about medicine. . .

Maybe she was a highly sought after woman – highly desirable.

So when her husbands died – she remarried. Four times.

She was courting the last. Or independent enough not to want to get married again.

And people listened to her tell of the prophet who knew everything about her – not because it was a profound act of God for any group of humans to listen to a woman as I’ve heard in several sermons, for God’s sake – maybe it was because she had a reputation around town for being. . .

RIGHT!

The best news ever – we’re moving to Northern Colorado.

Pardon me as this hits me like a wave of panic and overwhelm – we’re moving in like four weeks.

We don’t really have a place to live yet.

Our home in Texas has not sold.

I don’t have a job in Fort Collins yet.

We are not packed.

We haven’t had a garage sale.

We haven’t found a renter.

This is quite similar to the times I moved to Sauliai, Lithuania, Morro Bay, California, Longview, Texas, New York, New York and then Longview again.

You’d think I’d be so practiced at it, that I’d be immune to the paralyzing waves of panic and overwhelm in the face of an unknown future.

As the tears spill over I realize, I’ve neither grow immune nor accustomed to the looming, scary unknown.

The Bible . . .

You know the story where Jesus washes his disciples’ feet?

Of course you do.

Surely you’ve also heard this as a metaphor for servitude.

The male preacher asks the Sunday school class, “Have you ever had your feet washed?” as if to imply that to wash another’s feet is the ultimate in humiliating experiences.

“Uh Yeah. A pedicure. Women pay others to wash their feet as a precious and luxurious taste of what HEAVEN feels like.”

The whole room looked at me like I was the one who was crazy.

To my particular divine cockeyed genius, I would please like the record to reflect that I showed up for my part of the job.