by Msgr. Joseph P. Calise
From 1945 to 1967, Art Linkletter hosted the daytime variety show, “Art Linkletter’s House Party.” One of its most popular segments was called “Kids Say the Darndest Things,” a phrase coined by Linkletter himself. During it, he would ask children various questions and frequently got some amusing answers. In one episode, he asked a young boy who said he wanted to be a pilot just what he would say if he were flying a plane and suddenly all the engines died at the same time.
Without hesitating, the boy, no more than 7 years old, began to recite the Our Father. The question that usually delighted the audience most was when Linkletter asked the children what their parents told them NOT to say on television. Of course, they told the truth: “Mommy told me not to talk about the time she died her hair green by mistake,” or “She told me not to talk about when she answered the door naked because she thought it was daddy, but it was the mailman.” Often, you can spot the parents in the audience by the embarrassed looks on their faces. I have not yet met a person who enjoys having their darkest secrets put on public display. Imagine someone you do not know who knows everything about you!
The long form of today’s Gospel includes a very touching, pastoral part of the dialogue between Jesus and the Samaritan woman. This brief conversation gave her much comfort and offers the same comfort to us. But first, some thoughts about the uniqueness of this encounter.
Jesus is alone when the woman comes to draw water. This was not an easy task. She would have had to carry her water jar to the cistern. Then, using a bucket, get water from the well, fill the jar, and carry it back home, now full. No doubt she would have become a bit wary when she saw Jesus by the cistern. There were bad relations between the Samaritans and the Jews, and there were strict Jewish guidelines about single men having conversations with women (note the surprise of the disciples when they return and see Jesus speaking to a woman — according to John, they were amazed he was talking to a woman but did not dare ask “why” or “about what”). By all cultural standards, this conversation should not have taken place. Jesus initiated it anyway and during their conversation said, “You are right in saying, ‘I do not have a husband.’ For you have had five husbands, and the one you have now is not your husband.” He knew her secret. He knew her shame. But he spoke to her and revealed Himself to her as the Messiah — anyway. What he knew about her past (and present) did not deter him from loving her and offering her hope. Moved by his kindness, His reaching out to her even knowing her secret, she runs to tell others about the wonderful encounter she had. She tells the townspeople, “Come see a man who told me everything I have done. Could he possibly be the Christ?” Those words inspire them to follow and come to believe for themselves.
Often in the Scriptures, we hear that Jesus talks and eats with sinners. He calls those who are alienated and imperfect. Even among his disciples, he called one who would betray him, one who would deny him, and 10 who would flee when he went to the cross. Jesus knew her secrets; he knew the apostles were not perfect. He knows us. Just as He called them, He calls us — aware of our imperfections, our sinfulness, and our deepest, darkest secrets that we would never want made public. And he loves us anyway. Lent is an opportunity to confront our own imperfection and open ourselves to the love of Christ, which enables us to live free of shame and grow in his grace.
Jesus does not call the perfect — he perfects the called.
Msgr. Joseph P. Calise is the pastor of Transfiguration-St. Stanislaus Kostka Parish in Maspeth.