Larry and I braved the winds and the falling snow on a
blustery January afternoon to head to Mansfield for a date! It had been quite
some time since we’d sat in a darkened movie theater, munching on a tub of
popcorn while waiting with anticipation for the feature film to begin. But there we were, thanks to Martin Luther
King Jr. and Victor Hugo.
Yes, we went to see Les Miserables. I’d read the book, viewed the 1935 film
adaptation, as well as the 1998 movie, but had never seen the stage version of
the musical. So when it came to the big screen, I knew this was one film I
didn’t want to miss.
It’s a wonderful , redemptive film. I’ll leave the details
for the film critics, but it was definitely worth the trip. I knew that this 2012 film was based on the long-running
musical of the same name, so I was prepared for a drama with songs interspersed
throughout, such as Annie or Oliver. What I hadn’t expected was the
opera-like presentation of the story, where all of the dialogue between the
characters was sung. The use of song did make for rather incongruous death-bed
scenes, but – it’s the movies!
The opening scenes of
the prison chain gang and the poorhouse were barefaced in their depiction of poverty, and the
desperation of the poor throughout the movie was palpable. Those visual images
intersected compellingly with a passion for the needs of the poor that has
stirred within me for many years. Faceless. Nameless. Powerless. Who will speak
for them? Who will know them? Who will stand up for them?
Whether in the image of a starving Biafran child with a
distended belly that so shaped my teen years, or of a woman living in our
community who can’t find work to keep a roof over the heads of herself and her
children, the poor do have faces, do have names. But, just as in early 19th
century France, they often do not have the power to change their circumstances
on their own, as Fantine’s story so poignantly illustrated in the film. “I had
a dream that life would be . . . so different now from what it seems.
Even the Bible tells us that the poor will be with us always
so why worry about their needs? From a global perspective, yes, there will
always be poor among us. Does that mean that we do nothing? Catholic theology
extends the preferential option of the poor, prompting us to recognize that the
moral test of any society is how it treats its most vulnerable members. For me,
that theory must become embodied and remembered, both corporately and
individually.
I left the movie theater challenged deeply by the walk of
Jean Valjean, known only by his prisoner number, “24601,” for so long. When he became able, he gave coins to those
begging on the streets but soon found that the coins were not enough – he had
to move toward another, even at risk to his own life.
For me, like Valjean, slipping a few coins to a beggar is
not enough, for redemption must be played out in relationship. For some, that
relationship comes in the adoption of an orphaned child, or is revealed in the
care for an elderly neighbor. Some work for social justice, in the fight
against human trafficking or for job development with living wages. In our
community, one of those relational connections comes through the Ashland County
Churches Emergency Shelter Services (ACCESS), providing powerful support for
people who have slipped into homelessness.
Yet the hands that have lovingly lifted up so many are tired
and need others to hold up their arms. Could it be that there is another church
or two in our community to come alongside? Could it be that another voice will
be lifted at the homeless coalition? Could it be that we are being drawn to
help another to weather the storm, to dream a new dream? Could it be that the Jean
Valjean in you, the Jean Valjean in me, is called to stop looking down and to step
closer to our Fantine, to our Cosette?
No comments:
Post a Comment