"Reading With Different Eyes" 1 Samuel 1: 1-18

Elkanah had two wives: Hannah and Peninnah. Hannah had no children, but Peninnah had children. Hannah was cursed; Peninnah was blessed.

Elkanah said to his wife Hannah: “Hannah, why do you weep? Why do you not eat? Why is your heart sad? Am I not worth more to you than ten sons?”

When I read this, I think of Elkanah as a kind, sympathetic husband. He’s providing genuine comfort to Hannah. I hear Hannah saying, “I haven’t got anyone,” and Elkanah responds, “Yes you do; you have me.” And I think, “What a nice guy! What a caring husband!”

My friend Sandhya Jha hears this differently. She wrote a study based on this scripture that our CWF groups used this month.

When Sandhya hears this story, in her mind what she hears Elkanah saying is, “just get over it, dear. You should be happy you have me. I’m awesome! I’m worth more than ten sons.” That’s a little different than how I hear it.

Sandhya writes that, instead of hearing Elkanah ask, “aren’t I worth more than ten sons,” what a woman would rather hear is, “You are worth more than ten sons to me.”

In my reading, the way I hear it, Elkanah is sympathetic and understanding.

But in Sandhya’s reading, Elkanah is “ham-handed” in his love for Hannah, and “does not understand the complexities of the struggles Hannah faces.”

Two very different readings. And the thing is, I can’t tell which one is right.

The same thing happens a few verses later…

Hannah goes to the temple to pray. She’s torn up about this. Elkanah’s words were obviously not enough to comfort her (which – I don’t know – suggests that perhaps Sandhya’s reading is closer to the truth than mine). Hannah’s prayer is so intense, so heart-felt, that she’s almost in a trance… her lips are moving, but her voice is silent… and in walks Eli, the priest, who sees her, and accuses her of being drunk.

An honest misunderstanding, I think. Hannah’s situation is exceptional, the intensity of her prayer is exceptional, so the misunderstanding is understandable.

Not so, says my friend Sandhya. Eli the priest has insulted Hannah (whether intentionally or not) by failing to offer her comfort, compassion, or justice. The suggestion is that with compassion, he should have recognized her desperate state, but instead, he criticized her, adding further insult to her misery.

Now, which reading is right? Are we supposed to sympathize with and understand Eli’s mistake, or should we see his failure to recognize Hannah’s prayer for what it was as a sign of his lack of compassion?

I asked myself: What is it that makes Sandhya read this scripture the way she does? 

I recalled that, in her book Pre-Post-Racial America, Sandhya mentions that her father is a Hindu who was born in India, and her mother is a Christian who was born in Scotland. Her Scottish mother was rejected by her Christian family for loving a man of a different race and religion.

When Sandhya’s parents first bought a home together, there was a petition to evict them from the neighborhood. When Sandhya became a minister, churches didn’t call her, and she wonders: was it because they couldn’t pronounce her name? Or was it, as other clergy colleagues of mine have found out, because she was a woman?

So this is what goes through my mind as I wonder what makes Sandhya interpret the scripture the way she does. But then that leads to another question: What is it that makes me read this scripture the way I do?

Perhaps that should have been my first question. In asking what made Sandhya read and hear the scripture the way she did implies that there is something abnormal about her or the way she reads scripture. The assumption I made is that the way I hear the story is the “normal” way.

Fortunately, because of my friendship with Sandhya, and because I’ve read her book, it wasn’t long before I was able to see my mistake.

So what is it about me that leads me to read this scripture the way I do?

In the places where I’ve lived and worked, I have never felt judged because of my skin color or my gender.  I have never felt discriminated against for either of these reasons. I’ve never had my motives questioned because of my race or because I’m a male.

Certainly there have been times when I’ve felt I’ve been misjudged, misunderstood, or mistreated… but it hasn’t been because I’m a white male. My only real experience as a victim of racism didn’t happen because of who I am, but who I was with at the time.

In fact, people are more likely to give me the benefit of the doubt just because I am a man, and just because I am white.  That’s the privilege I have in society.

And because people are more likely to give me the benefit of the doubt, I’m more likely to do that for others, especially if they are white like me. Or male.

So I have to be very careful. We’ve seen over and over how the media report on events, and how the media describe people of different skin colors in different ways. A gathering of African Americans is a riot, but a gathering of whites is a protest. What is it that makes people interpret and describe similar events differently? What is it that makes them “read” the events the way they do?

Our own experiences shape how we see others and the events that surround them. It’s what comes natural. Eli the priest thought Hannah was drunk. Well, it’s a natural mistake, I think. A simple misunderstanding. That it might have something to do with the fact that she’s a woman doesn’t occur to me.

And my interpretation of Elkanah’s motives… he’s not trying to make Hannah feel bad. He’s not trying to belittle her concerns. He’s genuinely trying to comfort her.

That’s how it seems to me.

The reason it seems that way to me is this: I’ve not experienced the oppression Hannah has experienced. I’ve not experienced what it’s like to be a woman in a patriarchal society. I’m not used to having people question my motives. And I’ve not experienced the despair of being childless in a society that says to women, “you’re not whole unless you’ve borne children.”

And the experiences that I’ve had – and the experiences that I’ve not had – influence how I read and hear scripture.

In seminary, I took a class called “U.S. Hispanic Theology.” I was asked once or twice, “Why do you want to take that class?” … the implication being that Hispanic theology was for Hispanics.

Well, I’m glad I took the class. I learned in that class that if you want to understand the situation of people in the Bible, it helps to understand the situations of people today that are similar.

In that class, we talked about how Jesus was a Jew from the town of Nazareth, in the region called Galilee. Not everyone who lived in Galilee was Jewish. There were a lot of non-Jews there, and a lot of Greek and Roman influences. In fact, Galilee wasn’t always a welcoming place for Jews.

Jerusalem, far to the south, was the center of all things Jewish. And yet, when Jews from Galilee went to Jerusalem– you might think they’d feel welcome, because they were surrounded by other Jews. But they weren’t. Not always.  They were Jews, yes; but they were too Greek to be “real” Jews. They were tainted by Galilean influences.

Thus, the welcome in Jerusalem was often less than sincere.

Maybe that’s why Mary and Joseph had a hard time finding a place to stay in Bethlehem. “You’re Galilean Jews? No, there’s no room for you here.”

All this is to say that a Galilean Jew like Jesus was not fully welcomed in Galilee because he was Jewish, and was not fully welcomed in Jerusalem because he was Galilean.

In class, we talked about this, and then we talked about Mexican-Americans.

In America, they are often told that they should go back home to Mexico.

But Mexico is no longer their home. It may even be that their families came from Mexico generations ago, or even have lived here when California was part of Mexico. If they go to Mexico, they find a less than genuine welcome there. They’re not Mexican after all; they’re too American.

Not welcome here; not welcome there. Just like Jesus.

Thus, if you read the New Testament the way a Mexican-American might read it, you just might understand a little better the life and struggles of Jesus and other Galilean Jews.  It helps to read the stories of Jesus through Mexican-American eyes.

In northern California I had another friend who is a pastor in the church. He is also gay. I knew that it was hard for gay people to find a welcome in the church. But he told me that it’s even harder to find a welcome in the gay community when they find out he is a committed Christian.

Not welcome here. Not welcome there.

Now maybe that’s changing as more churches are opening up to the gay community. I hope so. But it still shows how learning to see the world from another’s perspective can open you up to new levels of understanding.

You’ve heard the saying, “don’t judge a person until you’ve walked a mile in their shoes.”

When it comes to scripture, it’s helpful to say, “Don’t think you understand completely what the scripture says until you’ve learned to read it with another person’s eyes, or hear it with another person’s ears…”

All of us have experiences that influence how we read and understand these stories. All of us have experiences that influence how we read and understand our faith. Our understanding of scripture is never complete if we don’t take the time to see things through the eyes of people who are different than us.