Hunchbacks. We stare. We cringe. We shudder. We think: the poor guy; glad that’s not me. Whether we’ve read, heard of, or have seen The Hunchback of Notre-Dame in one of its many adaptations, the ineluctable image of the “monster with a good heart” is a window on a life not tethered to concerns of fashion, status, and power. Victor Hugo liked to turn the world on its head, much as the Parables of Jesus do. Appearance, be it physical, social, or the unquestioned acceptance of the unexamined priest, ultimately misleads. Things aren't what they seem. Good turns out to be bad. Bad turns out to be good. On another level Hugo posits the inevitable conflict between the order imposed from above to placate angry gods (or God), with its concomitant benefits of power and position, versus those troublesome urges within that are not only part and parcel of life, but the very flowering of life itself. It’s hard to imagine a God who doesn’t need an army of arrogant, power-based, celibate men to keep the rabble in check. He doesn’t. And here, it’s the monstrous Quasimodo, who elevates lust to love, who shows that allowing the human to be human (as we allow “monsters” considerable freedom to be themselves) will yield an order that doesn’t require the strictures of church or state. Love, which is life, is holy, the substance of our best selves, as fully present in the babe as in the adult, no matter his or her appearance or conventional wisdom concerning same.