Les Miserables

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 19^th 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?

 

Sleeping with Bread

If you’re like me, your memories of elementary school may be hazy. I do remember bringing yellow roses from the bush outside our kitchen window to my beautiful third grade teacher, Miss Kramer. I also remember being devastated when the handsome, single fifth grade teacher moved to Canada to avoid the draft. And I remember being deprived of a field trip in second grade because a couple of kids in the class were behaving badly. Instead of punishing the instigators, the teacher decided to punish the entire class. Boo hiss! My budding sense of justice was sorely tried that week.

That sense of justice reared its head this week as I read the recent Times-Gazette articles that told of a woman who requested and received services from social service agencies here in Ashland under a false identity, with a fictitious story of an abusive husband and imaginary pregnancies.  I’d read about her in the East Liverpool Review while doing some interim work at the Salvation Army there, and lo and behold, she shows up in my community. It’s a small world.

Larry and I heard our share of shaky stories and met some shady characters over the course of 34 years of Salvation Army ministry, and I can’t quite figure it out. Why would someone fabricate a hard-to-believe story in order to stay in a homeless shelter? Why would someone want to sign up for 5 turkeys at Thanksgiving?

What saddens me most about these types of situations is that, just like those hooligans in my fourth grade class, a small percentage of people cast a shadow on the legitimate needs of individuals and families that seek help from churches and United Way agencies.  I know that good-hearted, hard-working people give, often sacrificially, so that others can have a hot meal or a winter coat. In our community, someone stays up all night – every night – so that those without homes have a warm place to stay through the ACCESS program. I don’t want their generosity of spirit to be abused.

It also saddened me because in my work I found myself listening with one ear to make sure that I wasn’t being scammed, while using the other ear to offer compassionate care. Not a good way to operate. In the end, I had to figure it out – would I be like the teacher and punish the whole class because a few kids were knuckleheads? Would I look at all poor people, all homeless people, all hungry people, as being out to get as much as they could, as being out to beat the system? Or would I see them as my struggling sisters and brothers, some with mental health issues, some working very hard to make ends meet, and some genuinely afraid that tomorrow they won’t have enough to eat or that one day they will lose their home or kids?  

Dennis, Sheila and Matthew Linn wrote a beautiful book entitled Sleeping with Bread. In it they tell the following story:  “During the bombing raids of World War II, thousands of children were orphaned and left to starve. The fortunate ones were rescued and placed in refugee camps where they received food and good care. But, many of these children who had lost so much could not sleep at night. They feared waking up to find themselves once again homeless and without food. Nothing seemed to reassure them. Finally, someone hit upon the idea of giving each child a piece of bread to hold at bedtime. Holding their bread, these children could finally sleep in peace. All through the night the bread reminded them, ‘Today I ate and I will eat again tomorrow.’”

The soup kitchens, pantries, shelters and the committed churches of the ACCESS program provide valuable support to those in our community who need their services. Here’s hoping that we can also offer the employment opportunities, the mental and emotional support, and the spiritual sustenance that will allow all of our neighbors to sleep without fear, to “sleep with bread” tonight.