The dim, climate-controlled interior of the theater gave way to the bright June sunshine and my eyes, blinking, sought to readjust to the light of day. As the matinee crowd for Les Misérables spilled onto the Kennedy Center’s terrace, I felt myself awakening to something I had not realized in all my years of loving this show.
The musical Les Misérables, based on Victor Hugo’s 1862 novel of the same name, is a tale of one man’s redemption set against the backdrop of post-revolutionary France. The public’s fight for freedom parallels the conflict between Jean Valjean, a former prisoner, and Inspector Javert, his relentless pursuer. Above all, it is a meditation on mercy given, received, and rejected, which explores what it really means to be free.
Mercy Given
On parole after his release from the chain gang, Valjean faces rejection from all of the villagers—except one—to whom he appeals for aid. A Catholic bishop is the only one to overlook the yellow papers that speak of Valjean’s past as a prisoner. He invites the convict into his modest abode, nourishes him from his supply of bread and wine, and offers Valjean a bed for the night. Yet most astonishingly, when Valjean takes advantage of the bishop’s generosity and robs him of precious silver, the bishop gives him the greatest gift of all: mercy.
To evade arrest, Valjean claims the bishop willingly gave him the silver. Instead of contradicting him, the bishop corroborates the story, adding, “But my friend, you left so early, surely something slipped your mind.” And, brandishing two silver candlesticks, he says, “You forgot I gave these also; would you leave the best behind?”
The bishop pardons Valjean’s crime by giving him more than he deserves: forgiveness, along with a prized material possession. He withholds nothing from a man whom he has every right to prosecute. Just as “God proves his love for us in that while we were still sinners Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8), the bishop humbly chooses a better way. Justice would have Valjean return to prison for his theft, but mercy sets him free—on one condition. The bishop’s act of mercy demands a response, so he sings:
You must use this precious silver
To become an honest man
By the witness of the martyrs
By the passion and the blood
God has raised you out of darkness
I have saved your soul for God."
Having encountered the love of God in the bishop’s act of generosity, it is meant to make him new.
Mercy Received
And it does.
In my translation of the novel, Hugo’s narrator calls the bishop’s merciful act “the dawn of virtue” (p. 268) for Valjean. His new lease on life causes not merely a “transformation” of his soul, but a “transfiguration” of it (p. 146). He changes his name, becomes mayor of his town, and makes a fortune for himself in the production of jets (a kind of black glass used in the manufacturing of jewelry). In his dealings with the townsfolk, he also extends the same sensitivity that was shown to him years ago. When Fantine is fired from the factory without his knowledge, forced into prostitution to support her young daughter, Cosette, and wrongfully captured for violence committed in self-defense, Valjean intercedes on her behalf to set her free. He also promises to care for Cosette in Fantine’s stead when Fantine dies from a debilitating illness.
God’s unfailing mercy toward each of us invites the same kind of response. Receiving His kindness time and time again in the Sacrament of Reconciliation, we are meant to extend that mercy to others. This is often hard to do! But in my experience, I have found that it is easier to have patience with others’ failings when I remember how often the Lord pardons mine.
Mercy Rejected
One character who does not offer (or accept) mercy is Javert; his ruthless pursuit of Valjean over the years never wavers. Valjean is twice given the opportunity to exact revenge on his pursuer and free himself once and for all—both at the barricade and in the sewers after the barricade falls—yet he does not choose to do so. He spares Javert’s life at the risk of his own, but Javert remains unmoved. Too proud to accept compassion from this ex-convict and unwilling to drop the charges against him—maybe even considering himself to be too far along in his pursuit to change his ways—Javert chooses to uphold rigid justice over just mercy.
I have heard Jesus’ admonition against blasphemy of the Holy Spirit (see Matthew 12:31-32) explained as a warning not to spurn God’s mercy. In other words, to believe that we have done something that is beyond the scope of God’s forgiveness, to despair of His goodness, and to fail to repent of that sin is to blaspheme God’s all-merciful nature. I see in Javert’s rejection of mercy one illustration of what this blasphemy could look like. Valjean, rejected so vehemently at the beginning of the show and later exercising selflessness in his care and concern for others, is a Christ figure who gives Javert the opportunity to be saved as well. But Javert refuses.
“To Love Another Person is to See the Face of God”
There is much more I could say on the topic of mercy in Les Misérables, but I’ll end with some reflections on one of its most-quoted lines. In his final moments on earth, Valjean tells Cosette the truth about her mother’s sacrifice for her and says: “ . . . remember the truth that once was spoken: ‘to love another person is to see the face of God.’” Our ability to emulate God’s mercy toward others depends on the extent to which we see the Lord in one another. For “just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me,” Jesus tells us (Matthew 25:40). So, too, when we are forgiven by someone, let us receive that kindness as an image of God’s merciful love. Most of all, let us return frequently and fervently to the font of mercy itself, the confessional, where God longs to free us over and over by His grace.
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