Les Misérables—the greatest musical ever written—turns 40 this year. I first saw it when it premiered in Australia a couple of years later, on a year 10 elective music excursion with my now-wife. And in a few days, the anniversary “arena spectacular” opens in Sydney. Yes, I have tickets. 

The reason it has maintained its place at the top of my ranking for the past four decades is that I don’t just appreciate it on a musical level. And before you make your own judgement on that, ensure that it’s the original 1980s score you’re listening to, not the insipid arrangement of the 2012 movie that robbed it of much of its character, and that the part of Javert is at least 30-odd foot away from being grunted by Russell Crowe. Yes, I have strong opinions.

It’s not just the music that makes it great; it’s the theology of the story. So I thought I’d mark the 40 year anniversary with three posts about how the gospel is central to the plot of both the musical and the Victor Hugo novel on which it’s based. Whether you’re an old fan like me, or someone encountering it for the first time, I hope it helps you appreciate the richness of some of its themes.

We begin today with the main character, Jean Valjean.

Jean Valjean: responding to grace

Interestingly, however, the novel begins with the life of a humble bishop, who we’ll see soon is the God-figure in the story—reminding us that grace begins with God. But in the musical, the story opens with Jean Valjean being released from prison after 19 years. And as is the case today, it’s hard for someone on parole to get work, so he ends up travelling from town to town as he faces rejection after rejection.

Finally, the bishop takes him in, graciously providing him with food and shelter. Yet during the night, a bitter and desperate Valjean steals some of the silverware and runs off. The police catch him with it, and they take him back to the bishop’s residence to confirm the theft ready to send him back to prison.

It’s here that the bishop does something quite remarkable: instead of being outraged that Valjean repaid his hospitality by stealing from him, he tells the police the silver was a gift. In fact, he even tells Valjean that in his haste to leave he forgot to take the best items—and proceeds to give him even more silver. 

When the rather puzzled police leave, the bishop turns to Valjean and says (sings) to him:

“But remember this, my brother, see in this some higher plan; 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 bought your soul for God!”

What Valjean deserved was to go back to prison for stealing while still on parole. The just thing for the bishop to do would have been to say “yes, that ungrateful criminal stole my silver, take him away.” But the bishop wasn’t just; he was merciful. He let Valjean go—with even more silver than he stole. He showed him what the Bible calls “grace”: undeserved favour. The only condition he gave was that Valjean should from now on live in light of that grace he’d been shown. He should take hold of the second chance he’d been given and turn from his old ways.

This is the song that Valjean sings while still astounded at the mercy and grace he’s just been shown (read the lyrics and/or listen to the song):

What have I done? Sweet Jesus, what have I done?
Become a thief in the night, Become a dog on the run
Have I fallen so far and is the hour so late
That nothing remains but the cry of my hate
The cries in the dark that nobody hears
Here where I stand at the turning of the years?
If there’s another way to go
I missed it twenty long years ago
My life was a war that could never be won
They gave me a number and murdered Valjean
When they chained me and left me for dead
Just for stealing a mouthful of bread
Yet why did I allow that man to touch my soul and teach me love?
He treated me like any other, he gave me his trust, he called me brother
My life he claims for God above, can such things be?
For I had come to hate the world, this world that always hated me
Take an eye for an eye, turn your heart into stone
This is all I have lived for, this is all I have known!
One word from him and I’d be back beneath the lash, upon the rack
Instead he offers me my freedom, I feel my shame inside me like a knife
He told me that I have a soul: How does he know?
What spirit comes to move my life? Is there another way to go?
I am reaching, but I fall, and the night is closing in
As I stare into the void, to the whirlpool of my sin
I’ll escape now from that world, from the world of Jean Valjean
Jean Valjean is nothing now, another story must begin!

Galatians 2:20 It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.

Ephesians 4:22-24 …to put off your old self, which belongs to your former manner of life… and to put on the new self, created after the likeness of God in true righteousness and holiness.

Instead of giving him what he deserved, the bishop shows him grace: undeserved favour. In refusing to press charges, he gives him back his freedom. And in allowing him to keep the stolen silverware, he gives him the means to turn his life around. The bishop shows Valjean the grace of God. And the rest of the story is simply the outworking of this; the story of Valjean “living up to” the grace he’s been shown. He tears up his ticket of leave that marks him out as an ex-convict, changes his name, and turns over a new leaf.

We pick up the story 8 years later, where we find Valjean has risen to become a factory owner and local mayor—but one who doesn’t exploit his workers, caring for them and showing the same kindness he was shown. He risks his life rescuing a man trapped by a runaway cart. He cares for a dying prostitute, then adopts her now-orphaned daughter, Cossette, as his own. He responds to the grace he’s received by showing it to others.

However, his new life starts to come apart when his true identity is uncovered by a police inspector by the name of Javert (remember him for tomorrow). Initially, Javert accuses someone else of being Jean Valjean. This puts the real Valjean into a dilemma: does he stay silent, and consign an innocent man to prison? Or does he speak, and condemn himself?

At the end of the song in which he wrestles with the decision, he realises that responding to grace means he needs to tell the truth, no matter what the consequences (John 8:32). With the strength that only comes from God—and in one of the highest notes by a male singer in the musical—Valjean outs himself as former prisoner number 24601!

Is it over for Valjean? Not yet. He tries to bargain with Javert, to allow him to attend to Cossette, before returning with him to prison. Javert won’t agree to it, so Valjean overpowers him and escapes…

We’ll pick up the next part of the story tomorrow. But notice how beautifully the story illustrates the interplay of grace and works. The bishop (representing God) gives Valjean what he doesn’t deserve: forgiveness, freedom, and the means by which to live justly. Valjean, in turn, shows the same justice and kindness to others, not to earn the favour he’s been shown, but in response to it. Even when it might cost him his freedom or his life.