Les Miserables - Feed the Hungry

I’ve met more than a few devotees of Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables in my lifetime. Seeing as how I’m only in my twenties, this statement might not amount to much; and there are certainly less people in the world who’ve made it through all 1400 pages of the book than there are fans of the musical adaptation, the most pious of whom call themselves “Mizzies.” 

Nonetheless, there exists a breed of reader who thinks that all truths about humanity can be found within this French novel from 1862. And, typically, these people aren’t too fond of the musical. If you ask them why, they’ll tell you that lines like “To love another person is to see the face of God” (the lines sung just before the show launches into the closing number) are too sappy and simplistic to do the book justice. 

Harsh as this sentiment might seem (what’s so objectionable about love?), there is a certain logic to this position. Just like its more famous descendent, the novel is consummately interested in mercy and redemption. After all, it would be pretty hard to open a novel with a priest performing an act of mercy for a convict and thereby saving from a lifetime of despair and bitterness without touching upon those themes. 

But attaining grace is much harder in the book than it ever was in the musical. Though many of the situations are the same (convict Jean Valjean must contrive a way to save Cosette, the daughter of a victimized sex worker, against the backdrop of the social upheaval seething through 19th Century France), it’s much harder to figure out what the right thing to do is. 

One of the most famous examples is when Valjean must decide between revealing himself to the authorities (and thereby sparing a homeless man from going to prison in his stead), or remaining in the small village where he’s settled (which would allow him to keep running the factory that’s the cornerstone of its economy). Though this situation is presented as relatively clear-cut in the musical (because Valjean’s soul “belongs to God,” he is forbidden from telling a lie, and must save the homeless man), it’s more complicated in the book. Hugo notes that, because Valjean turned himself in, the factory closed and many of the villagers went hungry. How can the reader say that Valjean acted mercifully, then? Isn’t leaving hungry people in your wake the opposite of mercy? 

The reason that I (and many other readers, for that matter—though not all) would say that Valjean did the right thing is because all of us are responsible for ensuring that God’s will is “done on Earth as it is in Heaven.” A village full of hungry people is not a reflection of God’s will, it’s true. But neither is a blameless man being condemned to spend the rest of his days in prison.

Tempting as it might be to sacrifice the few for the many, stomachs that are filled because someone else is permitted to go hungry is not an example of mercy. Christ’s teachings ask us to believe that a better world—a world in which all things are reconciled, and all people dwell in peace—is possible. Scapegoating a man because of his homelessness and poverty is antithetical to this position, and does nothing to spread Christ’s message. If anything, it only enables the system that permits such things to be possible. This is the reason that, ultimately, Valjean turns himself in. 

And this, in turn, is the reason that I actually prefer the book to the musical. Reconciling ourselves to God can be a complicated process, and oftentimes have unforeseen consequences—but that doesn’t mean it’s without value.

Teresa de Mallorca is the pseudonym of a neophyte who just completed the RCIA program at Holy Name


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