Last week I took my daughter to see Les Miserables, the movie. While both of us enjoy musicals, neither of us had seen this one before. The movie is very well done, but like all adaptations of stage musicals, it made me want to see it live.
For those who haven't seen it, Les Mis is based on the novel of the same name, written by Victor Hugo. Set in France during the French Revolution, it depicts a kind of hell on earth. Jean Valjean, we are told, has served a 19 year sentence in prison for merely stealing a loaf of bread. When he is finally released, he jumps bail and steals some silver from a kindly archbishop. Valjean is caught, and brought to the archbishop so that he can press charges. But he refuses; in a gesture symbolic of God's enormous grace, the archbishop refuses to pres charges, and gives him even more valuable gifts--a pair of silver candlesticks. This act of kindness changes Valjean forever.
Later, when Valjean (under an assumed name, because his former jailer has become a bail bondsman, searching relentlessly for him) has made an honest living, he is the owner of a factory which employs many under-privileged women. One of those women, Fantine, sends all of her earnings to her beloved daughter, Cosette, who is being cared for by others. Through an unfortunate event involving gossip and lies, the factory foreman fires Fantine. She finds herself out on the street, and fends for herself as best she can. She sells her hair, her teeth, and eventually her body in order to continue providing support for her daughter. When Valjean discovers this, it is too late--Fantine has died. With the sherriff hot on his heels, Valjean swears to redeem himself for Fantine's untimely death by finding and caring for Cosette.
Cosette comes to love Valjean like a father, although she doesn't understand why he is always looking over his shoulder, always on the move. When Cosette falls in love with one of the young revolutionaries, Valjean gives her away, and retreats to a monastery, where he literally gives himself to God, as he draws his final breath. It is a story of the fall and redemption, of grace and mercy at odds with justice.
I left the theater thinking of my favorite verse in Scripture, Micah 6:8: "He has showed you, O Man, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God." There are those, like the jailer turned bounty hunting bail bondsman, whose world revolves around justice. But since sin has entered the world, justice is imperfect. No one has ever said, "Perfect justice drives away fear." If there were perfect justice, we would all be dead.
It is a fact that no one in this life gets what he deserves, either good or bad. Valjean's punishment did not fit the crime. And his living the rest of his life on the lam was, in a way, no better than living in a prison: the only benefit of it was his ability to share goodness with others. Similarly, we read of Old Testament heroes, such as Moses, who was raised in the palace of Pharaoh, but who saw the plight of his fellow Jews and killed a man. He lived in exile 40 years, but returned to lead his people away from slavery in Egypt and toward the Promised Land.
We make justice appear very noble by thinking of her as blind--she only exacts what is owed, without regard to a person's race, creed, gender, appearance, wealth or station in life. But her illegitimate children are retaliation, vindictiveness, and revenge.
In fact, we humans need mercy. It is what allows us to live with ourselves and with others. It is what allows us to overlook one another's faults, and to love. It is within us a reflection of our Creator, the gracious God who provided a sacrificial Lamb. It is why, I think, that the verse in Micah says we "know" justice, but we "love" mercy. The perfect mixture of justice and mercy is God, who can truthfully say, "Vengeance is mine." The human combination of justice and mercy produces humility. If we are honest, the most humbling thing we can hear is "I love you, and I forgive you" when we know we deserve punishment.
Today in my Scripture reading, I came across the passage in Mark chapter 11 where Jesus cursed the fig tree. Many times in the Old Testament, the destruction of the fig tree is associated with judgment. Hosea 2:12 says, "I will ruin her vines and her fig trees, which she said were pay from her lovers; I will make them a thicket, and wild animals will devour them." Jesus said in Luke 3:9, "Every tree that does not bear good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire." The symbolism of the passage in Mark is often at odds with people's thinking about Jesus and His nature. Why would he curse the fig tree? Didn't He know that it was not the season for figs? Didn't He have the power to heal the tree, or to make it produce figs out of season? Yet when the disciples asked him about it later, when they saw the fig tree withered from its very root, Jesus used it as an object lesson about faith.
Jesus, as a member of the Trinity and one of the Godhead, knows about justice as well as mercy. He is the Good Shepherd, but in the end He will be there when the sheep are separated from the goats, and the "goats" are cast into hell. Yet it was He who laid down His life for the sheep. How vast and how deep is the mystery of God!
I am grateful for grace and mercy. I can see it in my life every day--in my job, in my marriage, in my entire life. I can even see it in a movie musical.
No comments:
Post a Comment