Earlier this week, I was out walking with Edward, and we were listening (together) to Disney’s soundtrack, The Hunchback of Notre Dame. It was such a beautiful day, until we got to the second song where the sanctimonious judge, Claude Frollo, sings to the hunchback: “You are deformed, and you are ugly, and these are crimes for which the world shows little pity.”
Last week, I interviewed a 40-year-old man with Down syndrome who shared his experience of unfair judgement. He didn’t talk about himself, he spoke about the pain of his disabled brother. I found it so compelling. Recalling his passion, I wondered if Edward had ever felt the pain and devaluation of being so superficially judged. But Edward is so innocent, I thought, perhaps he doesn’t notice. Or maybe I’m just naïve. As we walked, I kept looking over at Eddy, basking in the bright sunshine of the day, wondering.
A few Hunchback songs later, another outcast/character, the gypsy Esmerelda, prayed/sang these words:
“I don't know if You can hear me
Or if You're even there
I don't know if You would listen
To a gypsy's prayer…”
And then her song took a beautiful turn, where instead of focusing on herself, she prayed for those less fortunate than her:
“I ask for nothing, I can get by
But I know so many, less lucky than I
Please help my people, the poor and down trod
I thought we all were, the children of God…”
In the beauty and humility of Esmerelda’s words I thought about Edward again. I know that he prays for a lot of people every night. And I know that he means it. But in that lyrical moment, with Esmerelda modeling a profound selflessness and other-orientation, I was reminded of how Edward often does the same. Even when he is unfairly judged, stereotyped, and culturally locked away, he never seems to focus on it. It's as though he's not that self-conscious (in the best sense). Life is not about him. Because he's so other-oriented, he is quick to accept and move on. To me, this facet of his human nature is a gift—imaging God in a very gracious way.
As I continue to write my newest book (about Edward and the theology of disability), this is how it happens—I go for a walk and part of a chapter plays out. This story will fit in nicely with my chapter on Disney stories (and how God has used them to convey the gospel to Edward in a way that he can understand). What's beautiful about this book writing process is that I can't make any of it happen. The Spirit of God shines light on a moment and I write it down. This seems to be happening often lately.
And this Spirit-led way of finding my way continues for me in this vocational-experimenting year. Podcast-wise, people keep saying yes to my interview requests. I'm talking with a woodworker and a lifeguard later this month. Next month, I'll be in the office of the CEO of the Drop-in Centre. In each of these conversations I hope to catch a glimpse of the image of God in that unique person, and perhaps name where God is as work through the work they do. My hope is that my new podcast will launch later next month. Stay tuned.
(Every other week I send an update to those on my allthings ( ) email list. If you'd like to be on that list, let me know. This was this week's email)
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