Theo and Monseigneur Welcome

I’m reading Theo of Golden, a novel by Allen Levi. I’m relishing each chapter, short but punchy, leaving me with a sense of lightness and hope. I first learned about Allen Levi through Russel Moore’s podcast. Dr. Moore calls that interview his favorite. I remember driving from Marbel to Gensan, engrossed by their conversation being broadcast through Apple Carplay. I resolved to get a copy of the novel right away – that is, I ordered an ebook through Kindle. Since then I’ve treated myself to one or two chapters at a time.  

Theo, born and raised in Portugal, visits a quiet town called Golden. I’m almost halfway through the book, and I don’t want to give spoilers here. But let me just say that Theo is a old, rich man whose presence transforms the neighborhood and reminds readers of what kindness looks like.  

Interestingly, I’m also reading Les Misérables a by Victor Hugo, a masterpiece that I’m half ashamed to admit that I have only started reading this month. That gem of a novel is in my Kindle. (FYI, the Kindle is a great device to help with insomnia – not that I have issues with sleeping – according to the New York Times Wirecutter review.) 

A remarkable character who has moved me is called Monseigneur Welcome (Bienvenu), the bishop who allows Jean Valjean, the thief and pardoned prisoner, to enter his house and sleep. I know from the musical that Jean Valjean proceeds to steal from his house; the bishop forgives him anyway. How is he able to do that? 

I suppose part of the answer comes from an earlier chapter, where Victor Hugo writes about the bishop:

“A moment later he was in his garden, walking, meditating, contemplating, his heart and soul wholly absorbed in those grand and mysterious things which God shows up at night to the eyes which remain open.”

I love stories that give me, or remind me of, hope.

 

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Here's Paul occupying my reading nook. There's my Underwood typewriter and Romalyn Ante's poetry collection, Agimat, given to me by another poet, Prof. Marj Evasco. The tennis racket? That's a mosquito killer.