The travellers are back. I haven't seen any ropey horses or kids washing their clothes in the lake, but we're reliably informed that our periodic band of nomadic invaders have returned.
"For today the main revolving door will be locked so if you are expecting visitors please ask them to telephone reception, or you, to get access to the building," said a panicky email.
It occurred to me today that these people might be the closest model we have today to compare how the Jews felt about the Samaritans, or perhaps the tax collectors.
You see where I'm going with this. The disciples find Jesus actually laughing and chatting with a romany palm-reader at the well, and he doesn't seem at all worried about how that looks. Later, he tells them the story of how a man got left for dead, then ignored by middle-class Christians and a vicar who were hurrying to a Bible study, but woke up in a caravan, being looked after by travellers.
"Come off it, Jesus, that'd never happen."
"Wouldn't it?"
"Course not. Look at the way them pikeys leave all that rubbish about. They're only concerned about themselves..."
"Yeah boss, they're thieves the lot of 'em. They only help 'emselves! And it's our gardens they're messin' up, and it's our house prices that suffer, and it's our views from our windows..."
The story was never about the good Samaritan was it? It was always about what goes on inside of us, in the shadowy recesses we'd really rather not think about.
Well, anyway, the travellers are indeed back and the revolving door is indeed locked as a 'precaution'.
It's kind of sad, isn't it?
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