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Last night, I watched a movie entitled “Captain Correlli’s Mandolin.” There I was amazed to find a minor theme which dovetails a major lesson projected through the Gospel account of the woman at the well.
In the movie, situated on a Greek island during World War II, we find the Italian army, led by Nicholas Cage as Capt. Antonio Correlli. At this time in history, Mussolini and Hitler were allies. As such, after taking Albania, the Italians descended into Greece so, naturally, we find bitterness between the Italian soldiers and the villagers. This is underscored by the bitter attitude of a Greek physician’s daughter, portrayed by Penelope Cruz. In the film, she initially spurns the romantic advances of the musically-gifted Capt. Correlli because he is too light-hearted about the seriousness of war. It seemed his soldiers were more interested in having a good time than in fighting.
As we know from European history, as the tide of WW II rose, the Germans would turn on their former allies, the Italians, and it is at this juncture that Capt. Correlli and his men join forces with the small Greek troops, led by Penelope’s fiancé, Madras. Even though Madras was aware that Penelope was enamored by the charming Capt. Correlli, these enemies put aside their former hatred for one another in order to secure peace and justice for Greece. Together, they even try to defeat the Germans.
Well, the plan fails but the most striking moment was when the Germans open fire on the Italian soldiers in Greece, leaving all dead except one: Capt. Correlli. The redemptive theme surfaces as, later, Madras, finds Correlli barely alive and carries him back to his fiancé’s home where her father tends to his wounds. In time Correlli heals and returns to Italy. This life was saved by his former enemy, Madras.
In the Gospel account of the woman at the well, we will find an analogous situation but in order to appreciate this, we need a brief history of Israel. After the death of King Solomon in 920 BC, the country of Israel was divided among his sons into two kingdoms: Samaria in the north, Judah in the south. While the inhabitants of both lands were once one, they would become estranged from one another because when the northern kingdom had been invaded by the Assyrians in 721 BC, the southern kingdom of Judah stood by and did nothing. Likewise, when Judah had fallen into the hands of their invaders, the Babylonians in 587 BC, Samaria did nothing to assist these captives.
Consequently, there was an abiding hostility between the Jews of the North and the Jews of the South.
In the Gospel, we find Jesus, who was born in the southern kingdom, which the Romans now governed and called “Judea,” speaking with a woman from the northern kingdom of Samaria. This was unheard of in Jesus’ day since the two lands were adversarial. In addition, what we find is a compassionate Jesus who enters into dialogue with and instructs a woman who had been wounded, not by gunfire, but by love — not once but five times.
Sometimes, we can become belligerent like Jesus’ disciples who, as southern Jews, had no use for their northern kin. We can find ourselves at odds with people because, like all humans, we don’t like some individuals, be these certain relatives, political figures, or maybe our next door neighbors. Maybe we don’t like those who have a foreign accent, those who wear turbans, yarmulkes or saris, those who are transgender or homeless.
Jesus encourages us to surrender our armor of bigotry and don the garment woven of love and mutual respect, for the common good, for the sake of a society unified by peace, justice and love. These are the building blocks which lead others to sense the presence of the one, true God, whose gift of eternal life knows no boundaries, nor does it exclude people based on skin-color, sexual orientation, primary language or creed. Madras did this with Capt. Correlli. Jesus did this with the woman from Samaria. We are called to do the same. Fr. Comandini is managing editor of “The Catholic Spirit.”