In the aftermath of the outrageous gift that the bishop gave Valjean in the face of his theft we find Valjean in a state that can only be described as a crisis. He is completely undone. His nineteen years in prison had left him with a hardened unfeeling shell of protection and an orientation toward self preservation at all costs - even if that meant taking from others before they could take from you, or harming others before they could harm you. But now, on the receiving end of this grace, he is thrown into a crisis of identity and is quite literally fleeing from Digne with no clear destination, and as a result he’s running in circles.
He encounters a young boy and in this terrible and terrifying state he ends up stealing a coin from the boy. Not by force, but after the boy drops it he stands on it, refusing to move his foot.
When the boy flees Valjean realizes what he has done, and framed by the grace he has received he sees himself as a wretch. He panics. He tries to find the boy, but alas, he can’t find him anywhere. The chapter closes out with him seeing a vision of two very different men - himself as “the wretch” in contrast to the bishop in all of his gracious generosity, and feels as though there is no moving straight ahead here. His path has hit a harsh fork and he will either harden himself and become the wretch in full, or he will repent and be changed, as terrifying and uncomfortable as it is.
The aftermath of grace here is not soft, or freeing, or warming, or comforting. In one sense this grace has terrorized Jean Valjean and left him in this liminal state where the stakes feel almost too high. Yesterday I made mention of the podcast Poetry Unbound, which is hosted by the poet Pádraig ó Tuama. I’ve long been a fan of Pádraig’s work, and this chapter reminded me of a poem in the form of a benediction that he once gave. I’ve shared it below, it’s called “Go In Pieces”:
the task is ended
go in pieces
our concluding faith
is being rear-ended
certainty’s being amended
and something’s getting mended
that we didn’t know
was torn
we’re unraveling
and are traveling to a place
of
new-formed-patterns,
with delusion as a fusion of
loss, and hope, and pain and beauty
so
the task is ended
go in pieces
to see and feel
your world.