One of the books I read in the course of my mountain sojourns was Victor Hugo's Hunchback of Notre Dame.  Although I had read bits and pieces of it in previous years, along with his more famous Les Miserables, this was the first time I had read it all the way through.  I found it to be even more remarkable than I had imagined.
     
     In addition to providing an insightful look at the history and structure of the famous cathedral, Hunchback also presents, in the manner of Beauty and the Beast, a compelling tale of redemption.  Poor Quasimodo, so named because he was considered to only be part human, struggling with identity, meaning and, most significantly, love:  what would his destiny be?  Somehow, he had to set himself free.

     
     Yet as Beauty and the Beast demonstrates, genuine redemption is not necessarily something we create or plan.  It is rather something that comes upon as we live to love.  When the Beast loved, he experienced love in return.  So did Quasimodo, when, in his fractured way--like the Beast--loved, he found love in return.  Not until, however, he died.

     In this, however, is the deepest shape of freedom:  only as we love to our death, the death of what we know, the death of what we think, the death of all to which we cling, will we be genuinely free.  We must let go of our present freedom to find the freedom which we can never lose, be it now or at our earthly passing.