No doubt many of you have seen the musical, Les Miserables. (Sadly, I read the other day that it will be performed on Broadway for the final time on May 18^th of this year.)

I’ve mentioned Les Miz occasionally in past homilies, because there are so many gospel themes and ideas present in it. However, one dimension of the story I’ve never focused is the relationship between Valjean and Javert as it pertains to "mercy."

But I will do that today.

Now for those among us who may not be familiar with the musical—or the Victor Hugo novel that it’s based on—let me briefly summarize the story line:

Jean Valjean spends almost twenty years in prison doing hard labor on a chain gang—because he stole a loaf of bread to feed his sister and her starving child. Not exactly what I would call "perfect justice." He comes out of prison a bitter man, determined to get even with the unfair world. When he’s released, he’s forced to carry around a yellow ticket with him at all times—a ticket that identifies him as a paroled criminal; and so no one treats him kindly, except a holy bishop. The bishop takes him in for the night, feeds him and gives him a place to sleep. Valjean responds to the bishop’s kindness by stealing some of his silver and running off. Well, Valjean was never a very good thief, and so he’s quickly caught. The police bring him back to the bishop, expecting the man of God to verify Valjean’s guilt. But the bishop claims that he gave the silver to Valjean as a gift—thus the police are forced to let him go. When they leave, the bishop tells Valjean that he must use this gift of silver to become an honest man and change his life. His final words to the thief are, "I have bought your soul for God."

Well, Valjean does change—and his transformation runs deep. His conversion is not superficial. But later on, when he breaks parole, Javert, the prison officer, begins to pursue him, determined to bring Valjean to justice. The fact that the man has reformed his life is irrelevant to Javert (who upholds the letter of the law without mercy).

One crucial moment in the story occurs when—because of certain circumstances—the tables are suddenly turned and Valjean has the opportunity to kill Javert. The hunter in a certain sense becomes the hunted—and he gets captured. But Valjean spares his life. Because he was so conscious of the fact that he had received mercy from the bishop (although he didn’t deserve it), he was willing to show mercy to someone else who also didn’t deserve it.

Javert, unfortunately, can’t understand this with his legalistic mindset. It throws him into an inner turmoil, and eventually he ends up killing himself.

Today is "Divine Mercy Sunday." It was instituted by Pope John Paul II on May 5^th three years ago.

Most of us are familiar with the origin of the Divine Mercy Devotion: Back in 1931, a young Polish nun, Sr. Faustina Kowalska, saw a vision of Jesus with two rays of light coming out of his heart. Jesus told her to have a painting produced replicating the vision, and to have it signed, "Jesus, I trust in you!"

Over the next 7 years, the Lord gave Faustina numerous private revelations concerning his merciful love. These she recorded in a diary, as Jesus had instructed her to do. Fr. George Kosicki—an authority on the Divine Mercy devotion—has said that through these revelations, "Jesus taught the young nun that his mercy is unlimited and available even to the greatest sinners. He revealed special ways for people to respond to his mercy in their lives, and he gave her several promises for those who would trust his mercy and show mercy to others."

On April 30^th three years ago, Faustina was canonized a saint by Pope John Paul II in Rome.

Mercy is something we all experience as Catholics. For example, the very fact that we are baptized is an act of God’s mercy. Perhaps we’ve never thought of that before, but it’s true nonetheless. In baptism we receive new life in Jesus Christ, and no one of us deserves it! As the Catechism teaches, no human being can merit the initial grace of salvation; it’s given to us only because of God’s love and mercy.

And as we go through life, we continually need mercy, because we are sinners—and we never cease to be sinners. And for us Catholics that mercy is so easily received—the simple act of humbly entering a confessional and honestly confessing our sins brings us the gift. That’s why it’s so fitting that this Sunday has been declared Mercy Sunday: this is the day when we read the text from John 20 in which Jesus appears to his apostles and says to them, "Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them, and whose sins you retain are retained."

If someone ever asks you, "Where do you Catholics get your biblical justification for the sacrament of Confession?" take him to this text of Scripture and read it to him.

Confession was Jesus’ idea—and he gives it to us out of his mercy.

Now if it all ended there the Christian life would be fairly easy—because it would simply be a matter of continually receiving his mercy. But there is one thing the Lord asks of us who have been gifted—and are continually gifted—with mercy. He says, "You must now show mercy to your brothers and sisters."

And we don’t like to do that, generally speaking.

Put it this way: we definitely don’t want to get what we deserve in this life, but we often want others to get exactly what they deserve!

Face it, my brothers and sisters, there’s a little bit of "Javert" in all of us! That’s because we all have our "Jean Valjeans." (Some of them may even be in our own family!) These are people whom we are tempted to exclude from the circle of God’s mercy. Because of what they’ve done—either to us or to others—we consider them to be "too far gone" so to speak (as Javert considered Valjean to be "too far gone").

Need a more current example? How about Saddam Hussein? Presuming for a moment that he’s still alive, is it possible that he could actually be forgiven for his many horrible, detestable sins? Or to put it another way, is it possible that he could experience the very same mercy that we have all experienced as Catholics? The answer is yes! But you would never know that from the way some Catholics and other Christians have talked about him in recent days. They have desired justice (and that’s good—they should desire justice!). But at the same time they have implied that mercy is not possible for this man. And yet, it is.

Contrast this with the way so many of our troops have treated their enemies in this war. I’m sure we’ve all seen pictures in recent days of our soldiers reaching out to the sick and suffering citizens of Iraq. These men and women of the armed forces have extended mercy to those in need. And think about it: some of the people to whom they are showing mercy were shouting in the streets for American blood just a few weeks ago.

"Blessed are the merciful, for they shall be shown mercy." That beatitude of Jesus should be a consoling thought for so many who have fought on our side in this war.

Let me conclude with a very practical suggestion. If you’re feeling a bit like Javert; that is to say, if you’re struggling with the temptation to be unmerciful, or the temptation to seek revenge, then spend some quality time taking an honest, hard look at your own life.

I say that because I’m convinced that most people do not have an awareness of how merciful God has already been to them. And that’s one of the biggest reasons why they have so much difficulty showing mercy to others! Remember the parable of unforgiving servant that Jesus tells in Matthew 18? As you will recall, that servant owed his master a huge amount of money—more than he could ever have paid back in his whole lifetime. But because he was so merciful, the master wrote off the entire debt. No questions asked; no strings attached! Now that servant should have been incredibly grateful to his master for this gift, but it’s very clear from the details of the story that he was not! He took his master’s mercy for granted; he was totally out of touch with how much he had been forgiven. Consequently, he refused to show any mercy whatsoever to his fellow servant, who owed him only a few bucks.