You know, when most people hear the readings for today, they go straight for the “fishers for people” image. They skip right over the fact that Simon and Philip aren’t the FIRST fishers for people we heard about today. And that’s because our snippet from the Hebrew scripture provides a tiny fragment of a story that too often gets abbreviated to an image—the image of a prophet getting swallowed by what is usually depicted as a purple whale, and we don’t even hear THAT today.
Nonetheless, we don’t get the whole story, and perhaps we are left puzzled about what this story has to do with our Epiphany message of Jesus as the light of God for all people and nations. I think that’s a shame. So I thought I might tell you a little story right now-- the story of the first fisher for men: the story of the fish who caught a man and swallowed him whole at God’s command (1). And why that story matters.
So….
Once upon a time, long ago, the word of Yahweh came and whispered in a sleeping prophet’s ear. “Get up, Jonah, and go north to your enemy, to their great city Nineveh, and call them to repent, for I see their evil ways.”
The words shook the prophet awake—and he fled from God’s word as far as he could in the other direction. Go to the enemy’s great city? Never! So he went down to the port city of Joppa and booked passage on a boat heading toward the eastern limits of the sea.
Jonah went below-decks, lay down, and went to sleep as the ship set sail for deep waters, because sailing was not a favorite thing for Hebrews to do, since the sea symbolized the home of chaos, tempests, undercurrents, and death. Jonah figured he could just wake up when it was all over, and they were on dry land again.
But God was not about to be thwarted. So no sooner had the ship reached deep water but a mighty storm brewed up at God’s command. And the ship started to lie heavy in the waves that swamped over the side. In desperation, the sailors and even the merchants who were passengers started throwing everything overboard that they could, even cargo they hoped to sell; each praying to any small-g god they could think of that might help: storm gods, sea gods, wind gods. Nothing worked.
The captain started counting heads and noticed that that wild-haired holy man was missing. As the ship bucked and rolled under his feet, he went into the hold and found Jonah back in a corner, sleeping like a rock despite the turmoil. The captain shook Jonah awake. “Are you drunk? Get up! Pray to your god, whoever he is, that we can be saved, because this ship is coming apart!” The captain’s words made Jonah uneasy, even somewhat guilty. Jonah had a feeling he knew what was going on.
Once Jonah got on deck, he saw that the others were terrified. Nothing was working, and when nothing works, people often fall back on superstition and magic to try to help. So they decided to draw straws to see who was responsible for this terrible storm. Even before Jonah took his turn he knew what he would see when he chose.
Sure enough, when everyone opened their fists, Jonah’s fingers clutched the short straw, and his ship-mates turned on him with faces contorted by fear: “What did you DO to bring this on all of us?” And he told them he had run away rather than obey God’s command. His words turned their hearts to stone. “What can we do?” the other men cried. And the wind howled louder, and the boat sank even lower, and one of the masts broke off with a loud crack and swept over their heads.
Jonah next words astonished them. “Toss me over the side,” Jonah said, resignedly. Now, some considered for a moment—they knew gods who demanded human sacrifice. But most of them were afraid to curse themselves further by putting his blood on their hands. So they hesitated—and a huge wave nearly knocked the boat over. As soon as it righted itself, they moved with one accord, and with a prayer for forgiveness to the prophet’s God, they plopped Jonah over the side.
The sea instantly stilled, and the remaining sail filled with wind, and the boat darted away. The last sight the sailors saw was an enormous fish, big as a mountain, its mouth swallowing Jonah whole, and then the green flash of a tail as it swooped under the waves. The sailors shivered, touched their amulets, and immediately added Yahweh’s name to their prayer lists, promising a sacrifice at the nearest available altar once they were safely ashore.
For three nights and three days, Jonah sat stewing—yes stewing-- in the bouillabaisse of half-digested seafood platters and slime and gastric juices in the belly of that fish. It was dark, cold, smelly, and painful. Jonah was stubborn—three days and nights worth of stubborn—but, eventually, he gave up.
He prayed a lament psalm to God, admitting his guilt, as the cold and stench of that fish’s innards pickled his very soul. He threw himself on the mercy of Yahweh, and swore a grudging vow of obedience. Immediately the fish tacked sharply and rose to the surface of the waves, spitting him out onto dry land at God’s silent command.
The coating of slime and fish barf Jonah wore as he rested on the sand did nothing to dim the sound of the word of God speaking to him again. “Get up, and go north to your enemy, to their great city Nineveh, and call them to repent, for I see their evil ways.” And without a word, Jonah pushed himself up and stalked off, stiff-legged, to Nineveh. A deal’s a deal.
He arrived days later, covered in crusty dried slime—he wouldn’t give Yahweh or Nineveh the satisfaction of a fresh-smelling prophet. And what a contrast he made: the city itself was dazzling, one of the biggest in the world, so big it took three days to walk across, they say. It was the center of the Assyrian Empire, which owned --and oppressed-- just about everything at one time or another. Including Israel. So Jonah decided he would do as he was told—but he wasn’t going to get spiffed up for the occasion.
So into the city he marched. Looking and smelling like a human garbage dump, he thundered out his eight-word sermon in the streets as the people skidded to a stop at the sight (and probably smell) of him and gaped: “Forty days more, and Nineveh shall be overturned!” he thundered, and man, he couldn’t WAIT to see that happen.
There was a pause. Then bedlam broke out. People were wailing. Children were calling for their mamas. Dogs stopped chasing cats and dropped to a halt before them, and the cats didn’t even slash them. They heard the warning, and they BELIEVED. They tore their clothes. They declared a fast. They prayed to God—yes, even to this God of this pipsqueak people they had crushed to dust long ago.
Never has a prophet had such success with such a piece of prophecy and performance art. The king himself heard about it—second-hand, mind you—but even that second-hand prophecy scared the bejabbers out of him, and that king instantly sat down in the ash heap in rags and poured ashes over his head. He even ordered the animals of the kingdom to fast and wear sackcloth as a sign of mourning—and they DID. Chickens... in sackcloth—pigs... fasting. And God was appeased by their repentance, and had mercy, and turned aside from destroying them.
And, in the center of the pandemonium, there stood Jonah. Here he was, the most successful prophet ever—he’d just set a world record for prophecy that would have made Moses and Elijah WEEP tears of jealousy.
Was Jonah happy? NO HE WAS NOT. He looked around, felt the cool breeze of forgiveness and reconciliation blow through those pagan, enemy streets, and-- he SEETHED. He KNEW IT. He knew God, being God, would have mercy on these jerks—and he wanted to see some smiting instead. He wanted to see the place wiped from the map! Whose God was God, anyway? The Ninevites had made his people’s lives miserable for generations. And now they got off, Scot-free?
“Oh my GOD, God!!!” he muttered furiously. “Of COURSE you are a God of mercy, slow to anger, abounding in kindness, and ready to forgive! But this is too much! I’d rather be dead than live to see this! Kill me now!”
And in a silky, what to Jonah was a frustratingly calm voice, Yahweh replied, “You good and angry, Jonah?” And Jonah actually felt something snap in his head.
Grinding his teeth in impotent rage, Jonah stalked off again on his stiff legs, until he could get outside the city walls. He built himself a shelter, and sat there glaring at the city to see what would happen. Maybe they’d screw up and return to evil—seemed likely, with their track record.
But nope. That repentance seemed real. So just like when he was in that fish’s belly, Jonah stewed, while the sun beat down and he squinted toward Nineveh’s shiny, palatial walls with revulsion. And God caused a beautiful thick vine to grow up and it lent its shade to shield his head, but Jonah was having none of it. "Nice try, God,” he thought, but part of him had to admit that that shade sure was nice.
The next day, God sent a worm, who ate that plant straight across the stem like a buzzsaw. And just as Jonah was coming to grips with that, a red-hot wind blew out of the desert, hotter than an oven, and Jonah keeled right over in a faint. When he came to, he grabbed the sticky hair on both sides of his head and yanked handfuls out in fury like a deranged Elmer Fudd. “And now the vine? REALLY?? I’d rather be dead than live to see this! Kill me now!” Jonah shrieked at God.
And again came what sounded to Jonah like a silky, frustratingly calm voice from God, leaning in over his shoulder like the butler on Downton Abbey, murmuring, “You good and angry about that vine, Jonah?”
“You bet I am, God!” Jonah snarled. “Angry enough to die.”
“Why are you angry, Jonah?” God asked, as smooth as butter, reasonably, and everyone knows the most infuriating thing when you’re furious is to be met with someone reasonable. “You didn’t do anything for that vine—I put it there out of mercy. It was here for a day and gone in a day. You should be glad it was there at all. But even when it’s gone, what’s it to you?”
“You promised Nineveh would be overturned, God!” shouted Jonah. “And now they’re better than ever!”
Jonah thought he heard a small chuckle. “Why, they ARE overturned, Jonah,” replied God. “They overturned their hearts, and they overturned their evil ways. You did it!”
Jonah stared up at the sky with his mouth hanging open. “Really, God? That’s your loophole?? A play on words? A PUN??? JEEZ! This is why I tried to run away in the first place!” And Jonah was speechless, and a little ashamed, because he was lying. He certainly didn’t know God’s plan at the start, and now he felt like a total fool, and traitor, too, helping the enemies of his own people like that.
God’s voice got softer. “You yourself said it, my son. I AM God, slow to anger, abounding in mercy—unlike you, that’s for sure. And that’s lucky for you, too, dear Jonah. And I will have mercy on whom I choose—you don’t get to decide, especially since right now YOU seem to be lacking in mercy, compassion, and loving-kindness.”
The voice grew more tender. “I am God. You are my messenger, and you know I love you and have mercy on you. And right now I also have mercy on Nineveh, and its 120,000 people and thousands of animals.”
And there the story ends.
_________________________
Now, there are a quite a few interesting lessons here.
The story of Jonah reminds us that God cannot be used for our own purposes. We were created in God’s image, not the other way around, as writer and essayist Anne Lamott says her priest friend Tom reminded her: “You can safely assume you’ve created God in your own image when it turns out God hates all the same people that you do.”(2)
I love the story of Jonah—because I have been Jonah SO many times, wanting to see those I’ve decided are my enemies not just fail but get crushed. I stubbornly holding on to grudges as if they were life-preservers. My mother says I was born stubborn.
Jonah helpfully models for us exactly what God is NOT: vindictive, retributive, discriminatory. Sometimes our own heard-heartedness and stubbornness put us in the belly of the whale. Even when Jonah grudgingly did as he was asked, he still tried to impose a theology of vengeance and retribution upon God. Even though he could quote scripture identifying God’s essential characteristics as being gracious, merciful, slow to anger, and eager to forgive, in practice he thought that only applied to his own people.
Yet, if God can help us to imagine marvelous works of forgiveness and reconciliation through a messenger as reluctant and resentful as Jonah, imagine what God can do among those whose hearts have been transformed by the abundant grace of Christ’s gospel of love and healing. As we hear throughout the season after Epiphany, God is not just a God for a few, but God’s love and mercy are available for all.
Part of the beauty and power of scripture is the fact that the people whose stories we hear are folks just like you and me. Jonah is not a bad person—he is a human person, with human reactions. Most of us don’t want to see our enemies prosper, and many of us like to see those who do evil get punished.
The power of the Hebrew and Christian scriptures is that we see pictures of real people—warts and all. That helps us know that this conversion of life that God calls us toward is possible, even for rigid, judgmental people like Jonah, or impulsive, enthusiastic people, like Peter, and or self-righteous, long-winded people like Paul, to name just three examples.
Our gospel reminds us that Jesus’s inner circle was filled with common folk—fishermen—who had no special training, who were just mending their nets by the sea when they heard the voice of God calling them. God doesn’t call the perfect- God helps perfect the called, which is certainly hopeful for you and me. It’s comforting to me, at least, in all my flaws.
God is the God of second chances—even when that may frustrate our own plans for vengeance and retribution. Instead, Jesus becomes incarnate to show us that we are capable of following the path of God in our everyday lives: through Christ, God invites us to seek reconciliation and healing even against those we see as enemies.
But the lessons we learn from Jonah carry over into the message we hear from Jesus, who also preaches mercy, grace, and healing in a world devoid of it far too often—much like our own world today. A world in which far too many people suffer want, neglect, and poverty as we will be reminded in our prayers of the people in a few moments. We will be called to consider working to heal the economic divisions that cause very real suffering in our country and around the world.
The story of scripture is God’s capacity and tenacity in loving us in all our follies and flaws while being able to see beyond those things, and call us to something better. Here’s where we still hear God’s call to each of us to overturn our own hearts, our own complacency. The life of faith is a life lived in community, and inevitably hurts will arise, deliberately or carelessly. But our sins and carelessness toward each other are not the end of the story. Mercy and forgiveness and grace ARE the last words.
As our gospel makes clear, God also calls us to follow God’s Son, Jesus, and to emulate that grace, love, mercy, and reconciliation in our own relationships with each other, especially when it’s hardest—when we are in times of crisis, and when wounds are fresh. And that’s true not just when we are angry, but when we are anxious and unsure or even just a little tired. Made in the image of God, we too are called to be both individuals and communities of mercy, slow to anger, abounding in kindness, and ready to forgive.
Because that is what God’s justice looks like—like mercy and healing.(3) And thanks be to God.
Amen.
Readings:
Jonah 3:1-5, 10 (Jonah chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4)
Psalm 62:6-14
1 Corinthians 7:29-31
Mark 1:14-20
Preached at St. Martin's Episcopal Church, Ellisville, MO, on January 21, 2018, at 8 and 10:15 am.
Photos:
(1) Jonah and the Fish, anonymous, Asia; (2) Illumination from the Kennicott Bible; (3) Jonah and the Fish (Islamic); (4) Jack Baumgartner, Jonah and the Gourd Vine (1999); (5) Duccio di Buoninsegna (1308-1311), The Calling of the Apostles Peter and Andrew (National Gallery of Art)
Notes:
(1) In my retelling of the Book of Jonah, I am indebted to Robert Alter's new translation in Strong as Death is Love: The Song of Songs,
Ruth, Esther, Jonah, Daniel: A Translation with Commentary, pp. 135-154
(2) Anne Lamott quote from Bird By Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life (1994), p. 22.
(3) The Rt. Rev. Jake Owensby, "Healing Justice," at https://jakeowensby.com/2018/01/19/healing-justice/
