In the space of the first few notes I could see the main character in my mind's eye- an older man, a failed musician with thinning hair. I could see boys fighting in a schoolyard. I felt the approach of a headmaster who had a will like iron and a soul like ice. I grieved for the small boy with large and limpid eyes who stood off to the side as silent as a fading memory.

The boy stood in the cold shadow of the upright stones that signaled the end of his childhood. Three giant stones arched over him and formed a dark and massive doorway that opened like the mouth of a cave. The way into the boarding school for abandoned children began with darkness. Who could know what lay beyond that? When the boy's parents had died all the warmth of home left with them. Then the little boy was sent to live out his days in this looming pile of cold stones filled with hard-hearted strangers.

All this was held and conveyed in thirty seconds of music. Music written by a man who speaks French but needs no words at all to speak to the heart.

I like to watch foreign films because they speak through a sensibility different than my own. But I usually see my life in a new light as the directors of these films let me look over their shoulders into a setting unfamiliar to me. I have found that wisdom resides in the mouths of medieval Japanese samurai, in the actions of robots from the far distant future, and in a few bars of music from a French film. English is not the only tongue that speaks truth, and now is not the only time in which wisdom dwells.

Films, and their music, are one mode of conveying timeless truth. But a painting can illuminate too, and of course there is more than one way to paint a picture. Jesus often told parables, small stories sketched with words that hung in the air like cursory brushstrokes. A few simple lines were enough to evoke character, setting, conflict, wonder and illumination.

Sometimes Jesus told parables. Other times he just reached down and drew in the dirt. A thin line in the dust and a few words to the self-righteous crowd were strong enough to save the life of a woman and to buy her time to turn and see the light of a different life that beckoned her to a new beginning. This morning Jesus reached out and gathered a small wide-eyed child into his arms-a powerless child who was viewed by the disciples, at first, as mere property. In the first century women and children were chattel, things that belonged to husbands and fathers.

Children did not matter much in that society. What mattered was gaining favor with people who could reciprocate. What good was a child? What could they do for you? But by the last melodious word from Jesus' mouth the wide eyed child in Jesus' arms stood visible as one of God's beloved. "Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me," Jesus said. The disciples' eyes must have widened even further as they heard Jesus say "and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me."

The only logical way to parse these two phrases leads one to the conclusion that to welcome a child is to welcome God. And if we will let ourselves be carried by the spirit of this music rather than slavishly regarding just the notes on the page we will understand that every person is a bearer of the image of God and a potential prophet, parable or gift to those around them.

In this day and age (and in this place) we don't have too much trouble embracing children. And it is not too hard to welcome a stranger who wears what we wear and drives what we drive. Some of us in the Bread Ministry are even becoming comfortable knocking on the doors of houses that look rather like our own. Saint Paul admonished us:"Let mutual love continue. Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it."

Whether it is at the tables of the Newcomer's dinner coming up in November or at the doorways of people new to the neighborhood we are striving-as we promised in our baptism- to seek God in the face of the other. All of this is good. It is very good.

But we can't see what we don't see until something causes us to turn and look in another direction. In first century Galilee Jesus took a child and pulled the child into the disciple's line of sight. Who do we consider to be without redeeming value? Whose words do we ignore as below notice? What if that person too has come in the name of God and we are missing the word, missing the wisdom, and backing away from the blessing brought in the name of God?

Let us not be fooled by strange costumes, a difference in language or a seeming lack of similarity. Joy is joy; wisdom is wisdom; and the wound of any one is a source of pain for all. We are members of one body- children, adults, men and women- the people we see and the ones we don't.

We cannot treat anyone with disdain. We cannot ignore those who are near or those who are far. We must instead regard them all with wonder and respect. In each of us the Holy Spirit lives. Whatever our size, sort or condition we are each a temple in which God chooses to dwell- a divine spark at home in the shadows behind the facade.

Each of us is God's beloved. But even so there is something in us that craves something even better, something more. There isn't anything better. But there is still something in us that will listen to snakes in the garden and delicious whispers in the dark. The cold dark soil of self-interest is the ground from which envy, ambition and other thorny brambles grow. Disorder and wickedness are the companion plantings that rise in such a garden of evil. What we sow we shall indeed reap.

The best goal in this life is not that of gathering the most possession or accumulating the most power. It is not to be the best known or to be seen as the greatest of all. The highest goal of this life -as Jesus tells us with words, parables, a line in the dust and a child in His arms- is to love and to serve. Love is the power that overcomes all else- even death and the grave, even sin.

In the boarding school for abandoned children the failed musician teaches delinquents to sing like angels. Clement Mathieu guides and befriends the children. He protects them from the Headmaster, the Evil One who desires to punish them for the smallest infraction and seeks to make their lives a constant misery. Mathieu peaks the students curiosity and invites their participation, by loving them in spite of their bad manners and their misdeeds. He lavishes concern, attention and praise upon them… and they begin to change.

The day that Mathieu arrived the boys were like bits of waste paper in a whirlwind that flailed randomly around the courtyard- they were a sound and a fury signifying nothing. But by the time Mathieu is fired and leaves, the boys have become a chorus, their voices rising above the bleak aspect of the school and soaring in the freedom that comes from love and hope. If you heard a reprise of gospel themes of sacrifice and crucifixion in my telling of the movie, your heart is well tuned. If you rent and watch "The Chorus" you will find that the full score includes those necessary variations on the theme-resurrection and redemption. Even if you don't speak French there is no mistaking the point and the power of this movie.

Nor can we mistake the point and power of the song that Jesus is singing to us. The readings we hear from Scripture come to us from a different time and culture than our own. We might have imagined that the thoughts and sentiments of an agrarian Hebrew people two millennia ago would have no value for us today. But wisdom is wisdom, just as joy is joy. The power is not in the shape of the letters but in the spirit behind the words. Just as the power is in the music we hear, not in the shape of the notes the orchestra follows.

People of all centuries have wept when they were sad and celebrated when life was good. Emotions are timeless in their power and there is wisdom strong enough to bridge the centuries. We need such wisdom because- after all this time- we are still only human.

We are still only human-but eternally beloved by a God who loves us so much that again and again the words are spoken, the image sketched out, and the anthem sung. All this so that we might see the light and feel the warmth. All this so that we might step out of the shadows, away our piles of cold stone and away from our caves of darkness. All this so that we might step, instead, into the arms of the Master, then out into the world to serve the power of love. AMEN