Hi Allan –
Lovely to have a chat with you again old friend 
Yes it fascinating how words change their meaning. I only started to think about the meaning of ‘legend’ this Christmas when I was about to put the ancient carol ‘Dancing Day’ on a thread started by Ed/Matt here. I don’t know if you know the carol – but in it Christ as Logos addresses his beloved humanity with –
Tomorrow shall be my dancing day
I would my true love would so chance
To see the legend of my play
And call my true love to the dance
Sing O my love, O my love, my love, my love -
This have I done for my true love
The theory about the origin of this carol is that it once introduced the nativity in a medieval mystery play – so ‘legend of my play’ here means the story that my play will tell you
That must have been very distressing – being taught in that way while having a passionate and curious mind, and a serious reason for a sort of resentful bereavement when the walls of the citadel came tumbling down. Glad you came through 
The miracle legends of saints from the Middle Ages – I can see why they must have perturbed you - they really do take the biscuit. I always remember my shock at reading Chaucer’s Prioress Tale from the Canterbury Tales about the child saint Kenelem. He is allegedly killed and dismembered by Jews and buried in a dung heap – but his severed head, as if he were Orpheus, sings out accusations from the dung the pile and reveals his murderers ensuring their horrible doom. The heady mix of the fantastic, cloying sentimentality, and base hatred and cruelty is quite revolting; and this mix is found in many other miracle stories. If this was representative of the Canterbury Tales or of the entire output of medieval culture I’d lose interest. Certainly I’m none too sure that Chaucer approved of this Tale that is meant to also say something about the teller – a deeply sentimental, trivial and snobbish woman stuck in nunnery by her parents (but opinion is divided about whether Chaucer intends irony).
But perhaps in a religious age these stories satisfied an appetite that is satisfied today in other ways by contemporary popular culture – by conspiracy theories, urban myths, and lurid stories of the supernatural mixed up with the slush True Romance stories. So perhaps things change but also remain similar.
I love the mystery plays – which tell the story of creation, fall and redemption. They are very different from the miracle legends and miracle plays. There is a wonderful earthy realism that is expressed in them that seems truly incarnational – including the detail of a soldier complaining that he has ‘strained his stones’ heaving the cross into place, and the carpenters who make the cross being very proud of their workmanship in a back slapping self important way –as craftsmen are. All of these details of life going on as normal make the pathos of Jesus’ crucifixion very immediate and heart wrenching. I was far more moved than I was by Mel Gibson for example. And of course mystery plays – between the crucifixion and resurrection, include the harrowing of hell in all its wondrous drama.
That’s fascinating what you have to say about the Prodigal Son – do check up and let us know about ‘the great emptiness’. The typological association of the prodigal son with the Jonah story is very suggestive (as Jonah as a type/foreshadowing of Christ – but here is something much greater than Jonah - is very common in early Christian art and theology).
I noted your point on another thread about seeing the herem narratives of the conquest stories in the OT as allegorical –speaking primarily of our inner struggle against evil. That’s exactly what Origen argued and has also been a strategy adopted by the mainstream tradition of Jewish Rabbis since Talmudic times. And certainly the existence of these texts and the debate over their troubling implications has been an important factor in the development of humane traditions in both Christianity and Judaism which share a central concern for victims.
Another way of dealing with these stories is to say that God ways are not our ways. Who are to question his absolute judgement on the sins of the Canaanites and His order ‘to show them no mercy’ – man, woman or child. I don’t agree with this interpretation – but would not see the person holding it as in any way desiring genocide or loving violence as long as they consigned these acts to the past – as one offs not to be copied today. And I understand that this is the mainstream strategy for Biblical literalist of good conscience currently.
However, since the reformation when these stories became literalised for mainstream Protestants, it is very troubling and problematic that there are many well documented examples – during the wars of religion in Europe, the interminable conflicts in Ireland, the wars of European colonial expansion, and recently in the Rwandan genocide etc – where these texts have been used as a warrant for genocide against the ‘ungodly’ without any constraints from Christian just war theory. Well I can’t handle that and it has to be evil.
Yet another way of dealing with these texts is to look at the archaeological evidence – there is no evidence of genocide from the excavations of Jericho etc. Yes there is evidence of warfare but not of genocide. So these texts can be seen as drawing a moral out of ancient histories by emphasising the absolute demands and holiness of God (as is always the case with pre-modern histories and sagas). But we note that these texts were actually addressed originally to the Israelites – and Amos warns them that is they don’t obey the commands of Yahweh to live justly this will be their fate too.
Finally – and I find this very attractive – we can look at these texts in terms of typology as you have done with the Prodigal Son. In the miracle story of the healing of the gentile woman Mark gives her race as Syro-Phonecian, but Matthew gives it as Canaanite (Chananaia). Matthews’s term for her invites us to see this story in the light of the older biblical narrative. The names of Jesus and Joshua are the same in Hebrew. The second Jesus – far greater than the first – reaches out to the people that the first one was determined to kill. And as Philip Jenkins says in ‘Laying Down the Sword’ – ‘The Story comes full circle and the extermination order is repealed’.
Blessings old chum
Dick