Fish tales
Commentary
I had a colleague in graduate school about whom another friend in our doctoral program in New Testament studies once remarked that he had "a healthy irreverence about the Bible." Whether it was because of our colleague's younger age, the fact that he had come to the program by way of a one-year, academic master's degree in religion and so not been put through the longer, more church-oriented seminary training we had, or just a quirk of his personality, he was always able to find humor in biblical texts that others might miss because they were reading "sacred scripture."
We all need a bit of "healthy irreverence" when it comes to reading the biblical story about Jonah. Despite the earnestness of many religious literalists through the centuries, the fact is that the story of Jonah is told as a comedy, pure and simple. Whatever else one might say about the film Jonah: A Veggie-Tales Movie, the producers certainly did not stray from the biblical author's intent when they chose this story to present as slapstick. There probably was nothing like our notion of "sacred scripture" at the time this book was written, and it was certainly the case that the storyteller who crafted this book never considered that people would be reading it alongside the ancient traditions about Moses or Israel's great prophets as part of a "Bible." No, the author was determined to play up his story for laughs. If we sometimes fail to see the humor, it is probably because we are too far removed from the time, place, and culture in which it was first told.
Recognizing the comic relief in Jonah can be fairly easy, once we give ourselves the permission to read the Bible in that way. But what about the story of the response of the first men Jesus called to be his disciples? Could it be that their almost inexplicably earnest response to a call from an apparently total stranger to follow him is also -- at least at some secondary level -- meant to be comic? After all, the Gospel of Mark can be quite harsh with the disciples, and it certainly does not end in 16:1-8 by placing them in the best possible light. Maybe we should see here in the Old Testament and gospel lessons appointed in the lectionary for this Sunday two fish tales, with all the exaggeration and fun-loving relish that genre entails in our literature.
Jonah 3:1-5, 10
The decision by the lectionary committee to include only these six verses from the book of Jonah, and to do so apart from a sequential reading of the whole story over several weeks, is difficult to understand. Surely Jonah's obedient response to God's call to preach to the people of Nineveh here corresponds neatly with the first disciples' response to Jesus' call in the gospel lesson, but it does so at tremendous expense to the context not only of what has come before in the book of Jonah but of what comes afterward as well. After all, Jonah initially tries to avoid this call and then subsequently regrets having answered it. And the omission of 3:6-9 even strips the comic elements from this reading. Preaching on this text requires preaching on the whole Jonah story, and playing up the comedic aspects. Consider how the story opens: "Now the word of the Lord came to Jonah, son of Amitai, saying, 'Go at once to Nineveh ...' And Jonah immediately ran off to Tarshish" (1:1-3). If you don't get the joke, it is because you don't know the geography. Suppose we were to paraphrase it in terms of American geography: "Now God said to Jonah, who was living in Sacramento at the time, 'Go at once to Chicago.' And John immediately ran off to Hong Kong ... He went down to San Francisco and found a ship going to Hong Kong, paid the fare and went on board, and set sail for Hong Kong." Wouldn't you laugh if someone told you that a prophet who had faithfully served a king of Israel (see 2 Kings 14:23-27) had acted that way?
But the storyteller is just getting warmed up. God is not at all pleased with Jonah's response, so in something of a pique, "The Lord hurled a great wind upon the sea ..." and the next thing you know, things are being "hurled" left and right. The storm hurls the ship. The sailors hurl the cargo, and then they hurl lots to see why this is happening. The storm finally stops when they hurl Jonah overboard, and the first act of our story only concludes when the fish hurls Jonah out on dry land (2:10).
The second act commences with our scripture reading for today: "The word of the Lord came to Jonah a second time." A now somewhat wiser Jonah heads to Nineveh. He proclaims the message given to him by God, and not a word more: "Forty days more, and Nineveh shall be overthrown!" Not a word that God will bring this destruction as an act of judgment for the city's wickedness, or even a hint that repentance might avert the disaster. Nevertheless, repent they do, from the king all the way down to the smallest animal. The description of the scene is, well, comical. Not only do the people believe God, fast, and don the traditional garments of mourning, but the king doesn't think that is good enough. He decrees that even animals are to participate. Animals -- fasting, wearing sackcloth, and begging to be forgiven for their wickedness? Yes, animals! It is laughable, but also effective, for God does have a change of mind and decides not to destroy the city.
Frankly, such repentance in response to such a scant message is unbelievable. That is not just my opinion, but appears to be Jonah's as well. You see, Jonah apparently had gone out of his way in a deliberate effort not to persuade the people. He was, in fact, angry about God's change of mind. "O Lord, didn't I tell you this would happen from the very beginning? That's why I fled to Tarshish. I knew you were gracious and looking for any excuse not to punish these wicked people. So God, just kill me now!" (4:2-3). Apparently Jonah hoped his little temper tantrum would once again change God's mind, for we are told he went out some distance and watched to see what would happen to the city.
As he sat there having his little pity party, God "appointed" a bush to grow rapidly over him to shade him from the blistering heat. That bush was the only thing that made Jonah happy. But during the night, God "appointed" a worm to attack the bush so that it withered, and the next day God "appointed" a hot, dusty wind to blow in off the desert. Again, Jonah responded, "Just kill me now!" God responds by asking Jonah why he was so concerned about a bush perishing but was apparently unconcerned about the thousands of people living in Nineveh who would perish, "... and also many animals" (4:11).
That is the punch line in this whole, comical story. The storyteller uses our willingness to laugh superiorly at the misadventures of this prophet to expose our own biases and judgments about people. We, too, have a tendency to worry more about things in which we have little or no investment -- not to mention those things in which we have invested much time and effort -- than we worry about people. Perhaps, like Jonah, we glibly think they are just getting what is coming to them. Why should we get in the way of divine judgment? But God's concern for the people of Nineveh, and yes, "also many animals," calls us up short just like it did Jonah. And we are left to sit uncomfortably in the silence.
1 Corinthians 7:29-31
The pairing of this short epistolary passage with the day's gospel lection is not difficult to understand. In the reactions of Simon, Andrew, James, and John, we have modeled exactly the attitude toward life and possessions for which Paul advocates with the Corinthians. They, like the later apostle, recognize that "the appointed time has grown short ..." and exhibit a total disregard for family and economic demands. Indeed, that they immediately forsake every aspect of their lives and begin to follow Jesus only makes any sense at all within the context of such a worldview. Yet the limits of the lectionary reading completely separate it from its context within Paul's letter. Seeing his call to radical commitment to the cause of God's kingdom over and against all other aspects of life, within its context in 1 Corinthians, underscores how far removed that worldview is from our own.
This chapter of 1 Corinthians is the first of a series of responses Paul offers to questions that have been put to him in a letter he has received from the Corinthians. They are seeking clarification from Paul about what one's attitudes should be about intimate, marital relationships in light of what they believe is the likelihood that Christ could return at any moment. Should couples engage in sexual relationships? (Probably the concern relates to the responsibilities that come with the children who would be born.) Should spouses divorce partners who do not share their faith? Should those who have been widowed remarry? Should parents allow their mature children to marry?
In each instance, Paul's overriding concern is how to maximize one's ability to devote one's self to the work of God's kingdom (vv. 32-35). Attachments and responsibilities to this world are to be avoided or at least subordinated, because "... the present form of this world is passing away" (v. 31). Notice especially the present tense: "... this world is passing away." If this world system is already passing away, then one should not further encumber one's self in its responsibilities. Even the most apocalyptically minded of modern Christians can no longer relate to this world view. They continue to start families and plan for the future education and marriages of their children. How much more foreign is it, then, to the thinking of Christians in mainline denominations? Certainly the expectation of Paul and his contemporaries that Christ would return at any moment was not borne out by the course of history, and so his admonitions must be tempered by that fact. But that Paul may have been over-zealous in this regard does not itself prove that we have hit upon the proper balance. How often does our responsibility to engage in bringing about the reign of God's justice and the passing away of this world's injustice, at all factor into our considerations about family and possessions?
Mark 1:14-20
If Jonah is the poster child of those who actively avoid responsibility for others, then Simon, Andrew, James, and John are the poster children for those who eagerly embrace those same responsibilities. Jesus is just "passing along" the lakeshore of his native Galilee when he comes upon Simon and Andrew attending to the routine maintenance of their fishing business. He says to them, simply, "Follow me and I will make you fish for people." Mark tells us, "Immediately they left their nets and followed him." Jesus continues along the shore a short distance, and then the scene is repeated with James and John, two sons of Zebedee, with the same results. Things -- even the essential tools of their trade and livelihood -- are not worth a moment's attention when compared with the needs of people.
But let's face it: if you bring the same "healthy irreverence" to this story as we brought to Jonah, then you have to concede that this story is no more plausible on its face than the story of someone surviving three days in the belly of a fish. A total stranger walks up to these rough and tumble fishermen, tells them to drop everything and come with him in pursuit of some metaphor. That is hard enough to swallow, but that they actually do it is almost inconceivable. We quickly start filling in details from the presumed back-story to make it more plausible. Surely these fishermen had already met Jesus. Surely he had already demonstrated to them some special knowledge or power that would have convinced them to follow him even before he called them. It all makes sense, except Mark doesn't provide even a hint of such explanations. A stranger, an enigmatic call, and an immediate positive response: those are all that Mark provides.
To the extent that Mark provides any unspoken explanation for the behavior of these fishermen, it most likely resides in the fact that Jesus is the one on whom the Spirit has descended, the beloved Son with whom God is well pleased (1:10-11). Intuitively they know what the reader has already been explicitly told: to hear the call of Jesus is to hear the voice of God. They don't respond to some as yet barely known itinerant preacher from Nazareth; they respond to the call of God's Spirit through him.
How would you respond to receiving a call like that offered to Simon, Andrew, James, and John? Most likely by some more or less polite version of "Get lost!" But don't be too hard on yourself. Mark did not expect you or anyone to respond to God's call in just the way that these first disciples do. They are ideal characters, not real flesh and blood humans. They are every bit as much caricatures as Jonah was -- positive caricatures, to be sure, but caricatures nonetheless. And like the caricatures drawn by cartoon artists at theme parks, each of these portraits takes something that is true about us and exaggerates it almost beyond recognition.
Application
Just as we are all at least a bit like Jonah, we are also a bit like these disciples. If Jonah caricatured our tendency to avoid or even resist involvement, these disciples caricature our willingness to respond to God's call to help others. None of us is as eager as these disciples, but then we are probably not as resistant as Jonah, either. The truth of most of our lives is captured by a spiritual condition similar to what psychologists call "approach-avoidance syndrome." God calls us to "fish for people," to draw them in by the net of God's love so that divine grace can bring healing and wholeness to their lives. It is an image that warms and entices us. But the closer we come to fulfilling this call, the more we are confronted by all the things that give rise to our biases and prejudices. People who really need God's healing in body, mind, or spirit may not be that pleasant to be around. Such "an approach-avoidance conflict is the most difficult of all to resolve, for in this case one is both attracted and repelled at the same time by the same prospect."1
But the reason that Mark tells us the story in this way is to emphasize that we do not resolve this conflict by ourselves. Just as the unnatural response of these fishermen is implicit proof of the supernatural Spirit in their lives, neither does God expect us to embrace his call fully in our own strength. The same divine love and grace that extended to the people of Nineveh -- and even to Jonah -- will likewise extend to us as well. Our response to God's call may be faltering and uneven, but then the same is true as the story unfolds through the remainder of the Gospel of these first disciples who responded "immediately." Let God's love empower you to overcome your avoidance and answer God's call, whatever it may be.________
1. Anthony Davids and Trygg Engen, Introductory Psychology (New York: Random House, 1975), p. 242.
An Alternative Application
That Christ did not immediately return as Paul and other first generation Christians anticipated (what theologians refer to as the "delay of the Parousia") raised questions in the first century regarding the apocalyptic ethic presented in our epistle and gospel lessons. We find admonitions in 2 Thessalonians 3:6-12 that those who have ceased working (presumably to pursue some spiritual calling) are not to be supported by the Christian community, for even the apostle refused to be a financial burden on those to whom he ministered. The Pastoral Epistles contain extensive instruction about how Christian households are to be ordered in all their complicated relationships among family members and servants -- with what is to us a disturbing lack of concern for the "present form of this world" in terms of slavery and gender inequality over against God's justice (cf. Galatians 3:28).
For most of us the "delay of the Parousia" is not a problem at all, at least not in any pragmatic sense. In terms of the way we order and plan our lives, the possibility that those plans might be disrupted by Christ's return never genuinely factors into our thinking. Even those caught up in the Left Behind novel series probably only change their 401K investment strategies in light of market developments rather than a belief that they won't need a retirement package once Christ has returned.
What we need in our modern lives is to recover something of the tension that exists within the New Testament as a whole. Yes, we must be concerned with providing for the needs of our families and ourselves. Yes, we do have households to run and children whose futures we need to prepare for. But too often there is little difference between the way we attend to these secular concerns and the ways the broader culture attends to them. We need to order our lives in such a way as to bring about the passing away of the injustices of the "present form of this world." Answering Christ's call to "follow me" must mean leaving some things behind if it is to mean anything at all.
First Lesson Focus
Jonah 3:1-5, 10
Obviously, this text from Jonah is tied together with the gospel reading from Mark by the mention of repentance in both texts. Jesus, at the beginning of his ministry, announces that time has reached its climax and that the kingdom of God is at hand in his person. He therefore commands, "Repent, and believe in the gospel" (Mark 1:15). In the text from Jonah, we are told that the Ninevites turn from their evil ways, that is, they repent of the evil deeds they have done in the past and direct their lives in the opposite direction. God therefore "repents" of the judgment that he had intended to bring upon them; he changes his mind and does not destroy them.
That is a powerful lesson, for if God could forgive the Ninevites, he can forgive anyone. The city of Nineveh was the capital of the Assyrian Empire in the 8th century B.C., and it was famous for its cruelty toward defeated enemies and captive populations. "Upon whom has not come your unceasing evil?" asks the prophet Nahum of Nineveh (Nahum 3:19). The policy of the Assyrians was to deport captured populations to exile in Mesopotamia and to replace them in their homeland with aliens. For example, when the northern kingdom of Israel was captured by the troops of Assyria in 722-721 B.C., the 10 northern tribes were deported and were never heard from again. They were replaced in Palestine with the people who came to be known as the Samaritans, one of the reasons the Samaritans were so hated in New Testament times.
According to the story of Jonah, God forgives the evil ways of Nineveh, and that is what causes Jonah such distress in the book bearing his name. When he is first commanded by the Lord to go to Nineveh and to warn the inhabitants of God's coming destruction, he tries to escape God by going in exactly the opposite direction, toward Spain. But God pursues him and forces him to fulfill his mission. Jonah has to go to Nineveh and warn the population that in 40 days Nineveh will be overthrown. Then when the Ninevites and their king all heed that warning and repent of their evil ways, Jonah is so upset that he wishes he could die. He does not want God to forgive Nineveh. He wants God to destroy Nineveh, and if God will not do that, then Jonah thinks that there is no structure of justice in the world. Evildoers are not getting what they deserve. And so life is not worth living, as far as Jonah is concerned.
But God does forgive Nineveh, according to our text. What does that say to us? That God can forgive even the most evil regimes and persons on the face of the earth, if they turn from their evil ways? That God could forgive a repentant Hitler or Osama bin Laden? That God can receive back into his company the cruelest, most vile perpetrator of wickedness if that one turns from his evil way? Is it true, then, that the Lord has no pleasure in the death of anyone and desires that all persons change and live? (Ezekiel 18:32).
That is comforting to us on this third Sunday of Epiphany, isn't it? To be sure, we have not done the vile deeds that Nineveh or Hitler or Osama bin Laden or other despots did. But we know in our hearts that we have some pretty awful deeds and words of which to be sorry. Maybe we wrecked a marriage with unfaithfulness, or misguided a friend or neighbor, or aborted a child or did some other evil, and the guilt for that burdens our sleep and consciences. But the message of Jonah is that the Lord can forgive even the most grievous of our sins and accept us back into fellowship with himself, if we truly turn around and decide to lead a new and different life. As Jonah himself states, using that ancient creed that is found so often in the Old Testament, God is a gracious God and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love (Jonah 4:3), and God's ever-present will for us is that we turn and live, or, in the words of Jesus, that we repent and believe in the gospel.
But another question arises out of our text. As 3:10 reads, it appears that the Lord decides not to destroy Nineveh because the Ninevites, from the least of them to the greatest, have repented. That is, it looks from the text as if repentance automatically causes God to turn aside his judgment -- God's hand is forced by what the Ninevites do. Does that mean, therefore, that if we repent and turn from our sinful ways, God will always forgive and accept us? I once had a student in a preaching class who stated that such was the case. If we repent, he declared, God is forced to forgive us. We, in a sense, can manipulate God's attitude toward us.
But the Ninevite king, in the story of Jonah, knows differently. In 3:8-9, he commands, "Let every one turn from his evil way and from the violence which is in his hands. Who knows, God may yet repent and turn from his fierce anger, so that we perish not?" God might forgive us, or he might not. In other words, the Ninevite king knows that the Lord God is not coerced by any action of human beings. God is the Lord, free to do as he wills. As the Lord tells Moses much earlier, "I will be gracious to whom I will be gracious, and will show mercy on whom I will show mercy" (Exodus 33:19). But the decision is up to God! If we repent of some evil we have done in the past, and vow to do differently in the future, that does not necessarily mean that God accepts us back. For one thing, God knows our hearts, and he knows if our repentance is real or not. He also knows what he has planned for our futures, and if there is some future happening that will lead us into far deeper and more sincere repentance and trust in him. God may have planned a far more comprehensive transformation of our lives than any repentance on our part here this morning brings about.
You see, the Christian life finally consists in absorbing into our hearts and minds the fact that God is truly Lord of our lives. Our existence, our future, our destiny rest totally in his hands. He is not a God who can be manipulated by our prayers or even by our faith. He is not a Lord whom we can command to do anything, not even by our repentance. He is not a servant nor a puppet, subject to our desires. And really, the only prayer that you and I have in his lordly Presence is, "Lord, be merciful to me, a sinner."
The amazing fact is, however, that as Lord and ruler and sole owner of our lives, this God of ours, made known in Jesus Christ, is also the God of infinite love and forgiveness, who listens to our prayers, who cherishes our trust and who wills that not one of us be lost to him and his joyful household. So, yes, good Christians, repent and believe in the gospel. For the Lord is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love. And he told us that "there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over 99 righteous persons who need no repentance" (Luke 15:7).
The Political Pulpit
Jonah 3:1-5, 10
Jonah did not want to go to Nineveh, to the land of his Assyrian enemies. Although the book of Jonah was not written until the 5th or 4th century B.C., well after the Assyrian Empire had conquered the northern kingdom of Israel's capital of Samaria, any reader in that era would have known that a northern Jew (like Jonah) would regard Assyria and its capital Nineveh as the great Satan. Jonah's unwillingness to go there and to aid the people with prophetic proclamation made perfect sense. No one wants to help the enemy. Even nations are not inclined to aid and comfort the enemy, not even their former enemies.
The book of Jonah tries to undo these human inclinations with a message of forgiveness and inclusivity for us and for our nation (4:10-11). As God sent Jonah to proclaim a Word of judgment and repentance to his peoples' enemies, so he sends our nation and us as individuals to minister to our (former) enemies.
There are rich precedents in American history for this sort of national ethic. One thinks of Lincoln's strategy of a generous reunion with the South as well as of the post-World War II Marshall Plan and its profound impact on the economic life and present prosperity of much of Western Europe and Japan. We have not implemented such a strategy in full with more recent former enemies, only partially building bridges to Vietnam and Afghanistan, and not at all with Cuba and Iraq. Why not? This text affords an opportunity for a sermon that can at least provide an occasion for you to help the citizens of your town raise questions about our foreign policy, questions around which some public consensus could emerge.
The "peacenik" in me sees this as a text about reconciliation with the enemy. But it is not that simple. The book of Jonah reflects some sound political realism along with its Word of reconciliation. If we read the three omitted verses of the lesson (vv. 6-9), we observe that there was not just a general consensus among the people of Nineveh that Jonah's preaching mandated repentance. The king was moved and eventually issued a proclamation to implement the repentance in the city as a whole. This serves as a reminder that public opinion alone is not sufficient if peace and national well-being are to reign. The political leaders must get on board for it to happen.
Apply this insight to present policy and past successes achieving international reconciliation. The aforementioned Marshall Plan and Lincoln's somewhat aborted strategy were predicated on the unconditional surrender of the former enemies. We clearly do not have that in the case of Vietnam or Cuba, which remain Communist and continue to propagate their share of anti-Americanism at official levels of power. Perhaps the Cuban-American community has a point in warning us against complete normalization of relations with the motherland. Unlike the case of ancient Nineveh, the ruler (Castro) is not calling for repentance. Neither public consensus among the Cuban masses, nor economic relationships which seem to ignore their government may be sufficient to reconcile us with Castro.
This brings us to the pressing situations in Afghanistan and Iraq with regard to today's war on terrorism. These nations' links to Osama Bin Laden and his al Qaeda terrorists are enemies (which the Jonah story entails) that warrant our care and concern. But while the new Afghan government is working for healing and repentance, and so warrants our going to its Ninevahs for reconciliation, Iraq's leader Saddam Hussein stands defiantly against us. As long as he is in place, peaceful sojourns to his Ninevah are likely to create little more than some popular Iraqi discontent. For Hussein has actually violated the terms of the 1991 Gulf War surrender, requiring him to end the development of nuclear, biological, and chemical weapons. Nineveh, recall, did not complete its repentance without the king's decree.
The message of this text, then, urges a twofold strategy in our present international context. American Christians are right to encourage our political leaders to go to Nineveh, to make every effort to meet with our enemies. But we must never forget how the book of Jonah reports the impact of having our former (and present) enemies' rulers repent. In that sense the internal struggles between Bush's hawks like Rumsfeld and Cheney versus Powell and the other cautionaries is a healthy dialogue to be encouraged.
We all need a bit of "healthy irreverence" when it comes to reading the biblical story about Jonah. Despite the earnestness of many religious literalists through the centuries, the fact is that the story of Jonah is told as a comedy, pure and simple. Whatever else one might say about the film Jonah: A Veggie-Tales Movie, the producers certainly did not stray from the biblical author's intent when they chose this story to present as slapstick. There probably was nothing like our notion of "sacred scripture" at the time this book was written, and it was certainly the case that the storyteller who crafted this book never considered that people would be reading it alongside the ancient traditions about Moses or Israel's great prophets as part of a "Bible." No, the author was determined to play up his story for laughs. If we sometimes fail to see the humor, it is probably because we are too far removed from the time, place, and culture in which it was first told.
Recognizing the comic relief in Jonah can be fairly easy, once we give ourselves the permission to read the Bible in that way. But what about the story of the response of the first men Jesus called to be his disciples? Could it be that their almost inexplicably earnest response to a call from an apparently total stranger to follow him is also -- at least at some secondary level -- meant to be comic? After all, the Gospel of Mark can be quite harsh with the disciples, and it certainly does not end in 16:1-8 by placing them in the best possible light. Maybe we should see here in the Old Testament and gospel lessons appointed in the lectionary for this Sunday two fish tales, with all the exaggeration and fun-loving relish that genre entails in our literature.
Jonah 3:1-5, 10
The decision by the lectionary committee to include only these six verses from the book of Jonah, and to do so apart from a sequential reading of the whole story over several weeks, is difficult to understand. Surely Jonah's obedient response to God's call to preach to the people of Nineveh here corresponds neatly with the first disciples' response to Jesus' call in the gospel lesson, but it does so at tremendous expense to the context not only of what has come before in the book of Jonah but of what comes afterward as well. After all, Jonah initially tries to avoid this call and then subsequently regrets having answered it. And the omission of 3:6-9 even strips the comic elements from this reading. Preaching on this text requires preaching on the whole Jonah story, and playing up the comedic aspects. Consider how the story opens: "Now the word of the Lord came to Jonah, son of Amitai, saying, 'Go at once to Nineveh ...' And Jonah immediately ran off to Tarshish" (1:1-3). If you don't get the joke, it is because you don't know the geography. Suppose we were to paraphrase it in terms of American geography: "Now God said to Jonah, who was living in Sacramento at the time, 'Go at once to Chicago.' And John immediately ran off to Hong Kong ... He went down to San Francisco and found a ship going to Hong Kong, paid the fare and went on board, and set sail for Hong Kong." Wouldn't you laugh if someone told you that a prophet who had faithfully served a king of Israel (see 2 Kings 14:23-27) had acted that way?
But the storyteller is just getting warmed up. God is not at all pleased with Jonah's response, so in something of a pique, "The Lord hurled a great wind upon the sea ..." and the next thing you know, things are being "hurled" left and right. The storm hurls the ship. The sailors hurl the cargo, and then they hurl lots to see why this is happening. The storm finally stops when they hurl Jonah overboard, and the first act of our story only concludes when the fish hurls Jonah out on dry land (2:10).
The second act commences with our scripture reading for today: "The word of the Lord came to Jonah a second time." A now somewhat wiser Jonah heads to Nineveh. He proclaims the message given to him by God, and not a word more: "Forty days more, and Nineveh shall be overthrown!" Not a word that God will bring this destruction as an act of judgment for the city's wickedness, or even a hint that repentance might avert the disaster. Nevertheless, repent they do, from the king all the way down to the smallest animal. The description of the scene is, well, comical. Not only do the people believe God, fast, and don the traditional garments of mourning, but the king doesn't think that is good enough. He decrees that even animals are to participate. Animals -- fasting, wearing sackcloth, and begging to be forgiven for their wickedness? Yes, animals! It is laughable, but also effective, for God does have a change of mind and decides not to destroy the city.
Frankly, such repentance in response to such a scant message is unbelievable. That is not just my opinion, but appears to be Jonah's as well. You see, Jonah apparently had gone out of his way in a deliberate effort not to persuade the people. He was, in fact, angry about God's change of mind. "O Lord, didn't I tell you this would happen from the very beginning? That's why I fled to Tarshish. I knew you were gracious and looking for any excuse not to punish these wicked people. So God, just kill me now!" (4:2-3). Apparently Jonah hoped his little temper tantrum would once again change God's mind, for we are told he went out some distance and watched to see what would happen to the city.
As he sat there having his little pity party, God "appointed" a bush to grow rapidly over him to shade him from the blistering heat. That bush was the only thing that made Jonah happy. But during the night, God "appointed" a worm to attack the bush so that it withered, and the next day God "appointed" a hot, dusty wind to blow in off the desert. Again, Jonah responded, "Just kill me now!" God responds by asking Jonah why he was so concerned about a bush perishing but was apparently unconcerned about the thousands of people living in Nineveh who would perish, "... and also many animals" (4:11).
That is the punch line in this whole, comical story. The storyteller uses our willingness to laugh superiorly at the misadventures of this prophet to expose our own biases and judgments about people. We, too, have a tendency to worry more about things in which we have little or no investment -- not to mention those things in which we have invested much time and effort -- than we worry about people. Perhaps, like Jonah, we glibly think they are just getting what is coming to them. Why should we get in the way of divine judgment? But God's concern for the people of Nineveh, and yes, "also many animals," calls us up short just like it did Jonah. And we are left to sit uncomfortably in the silence.
1 Corinthians 7:29-31
The pairing of this short epistolary passage with the day's gospel lection is not difficult to understand. In the reactions of Simon, Andrew, James, and John, we have modeled exactly the attitude toward life and possessions for which Paul advocates with the Corinthians. They, like the later apostle, recognize that "the appointed time has grown short ..." and exhibit a total disregard for family and economic demands. Indeed, that they immediately forsake every aspect of their lives and begin to follow Jesus only makes any sense at all within the context of such a worldview. Yet the limits of the lectionary reading completely separate it from its context within Paul's letter. Seeing his call to radical commitment to the cause of God's kingdom over and against all other aspects of life, within its context in 1 Corinthians, underscores how far removed that worldview is from our own.
This chapter of 1 Corinthians is the first of a series of responses Paul offers to questions that have been put to him in a letter he has received from the Corinthians. They are seeking clarification from Paul about what one's attitudes should be about intimate, marital relationships in light of what they believe is the likelihood that Christ could return at any moment. Should couples engage in sexual relationships? (Probably the concern relates to the responsibilities that come with the children who would be born.) Should spouses divorce partners who do not share their faith? Should those who have been widowed remarry? Should parents allow their mature children to marry?
In each instance, Paul's overriding concern is how to maximize one's ability to devote one's self to the work of God's kingdom (vv. 32-35). Attachments and responsibilities to this world are to be avoided or at least subordinated, because "... the present form of this world is passing away" (v. 31). Notice especially the present tense: "... this world is passing away." If this world system is already passing away, then one should not further encumber one's self in its responsibilities. Even the most apocalyptically minded of modern Christians can no longer relate to this world view. They continue to start families and plan for the future education and marriages of their children. How much more foreign is it, then, to the thinking of Christians in mainline denominations? Certainly the expectation of Paul and his contemporaries that Christ would return at any moment was not borne out by the course of history, and so his admonitions must be tempered by that fact. But that Paul may have been over-zealous in this regard does not itself prove that we have hit upon the proper balance. How often does our responsibility to engage in bringing about the reign of God's justice and the passing away of this world's injustice, at all factor into our considerations about family and possessions?
Mark 1:14-20
If Jonah is the poster child of those who actively avoid responsibility for others, then Simon, Andrew, James, and John are the poster children for those who eagerly embrace those same responsibilities. Jesus is just "passing along" the lakeshore of his native Galilee when he comes upon Simon and Andrew attending to the routine maintenance of their fishing business. He says to them, simply, "Follow me and I will make you fish for people." Mark tells us, "Immediately they left their nets and followed him." Jesus continues along the shore a short distance, and then the scene is repeated with James and John, two sons of Zebedee, with the same results. Things -- even the essential tools of their trade and livelihood -- are not worth a moment's attention when compared with the needs of people.
But let's face it: if you bring the same "healthy irreverence" to this story as we brought to Jonah, then you have to concede that this story is no more plausible on its face than the story of someone surviving three days in the belly of a fish. A total stranger walks up to these rough and tumble fishermen, tells them to drop everything and come with him in pursuit of some metaphor. That is hard enough to swallow, but that they actually do it is almost inconceivable. We quickly start filling in details from the presumed back-story to make it more plausible. Surely these fishermen had already met Jesus. Surely he had already demonstrated to them some special knowledge or power that would have convinced them to follow him even before he called them. It all makes sense, except Mark doesn't provide even a hint of such explanations. A stranger, an enigmatic call, and an immediate positive response: those are all that Mark provides.
To the extent that Mark provides any unspoken explanation for the behavior of these fishermen, it most likely resides in the fact that Jesus is the one on whom the Spirit has descended, the beloved Son with whom God is well pleased (1:10-11). Intuitively they know what the reader has already been explicitly told: to hear the call of Jesus is to hear the voice of God. They don't respond to some as yet barely known itinerant preacher from Nazareth; they respond to the call of God's Spirit through him.
How would you respond to receiving a call like that offered to Simon, Andrew, James, and John? Most likely by some more or less polite version of "Get lost!" But don't be too hard on yourself. Mark did not expect you or anyone to respond to God's call in just the way that these first disciples do. They are ideal characters, not real flesh and blood humans. They are every bit as much caricatures as Jonah was -- positive caricatures, to be sure, but caricatures nonetheless. And like the caricatures drawn by cartoon artists at theme parks, each of these portraits takes something that is true about us and exaggerates it almost beyond recognition.
Application
Just as we are all at least a bit like Jonah, we are also a bit like these disciples. If Jonah caricatured our tendency to avoid or even resist involvement, these disciples caricature our willingness to respond to God's call to help others. None of us is as eager as these disciples, but then we are probably not as resistant as Jonah, either. The truth of most of our lives is captured by a spiritual condition similar to what psychologists call "approach-avoidance syndrome." God calls us to "fish for people," to draw them in by the net of God's love so that divine grace can bring healing and wholeness to their lives. It is an image that warms and entices us. But the closer we come to fulfilling this call, the more we are confronted by all the things that give rise to our biases and prejudices. People who really need God's healing in body, mind, or spirit may not be that pleasant to be around. Such "an approach-avoidance conflict is the most difficult of all to resolve, for in this case one is both attracted and repelled at the same time by the same prospect."1
But the reason that Mark tells us the story in this way is to emphasize that we do not resolve this conflict by ourselves. Just as the unnatural response of these fishermen is implicit proof of the supernatural Spirit in their lives, neither does God expect us to embrace his call fully in our own strength. The same divine love and grace that extended to the people of Nineveh -- and even to Jonah -- will likewise extend to us as well. Our response to God's call may be faltering and uneven, but then the same is true as the story unfolds through the remainder of the Gospel of these first disciples who responded "immediately." Let God's love empower you to overcome your avoidance and answer God's call, whatever it may be.________
1. Anthony Davids and Trygg Engen, Introductory Psychology (New York: Random House, 1975), p. 242.
An Alternative Application
That Christ did not immediately return as Paul and other first generation Christians anticipated (what theologians refer to as the "delay of the Parousia") raised questions in the first century regarding the apocalyptic ethic presented in our epistle and gospel lessons. We find admonitions in 2 Thessalonians 3:6-12 that those who have ceased working (presumably to pursue some spiritual calling) are not to be supported by the Christian community, for even the apostle refused to be a financial burden on those to whom he ministered. The Pastoral Epistles contain extensive instruction about how Christian households are to be ordered in all their complicated relationships among family members and servants -- with what is to us a disturbing lack of concern for the "present form of this world" in terms of slavery and gender inequality over against God's justice (cf. Galatians 3:28).
For most of us the "delay of the Parousia" is not a problem at all, at least not in any pragmatic sense. In terms of the way we order and plan our lives, the possibility that those plans might be disrupted by Christ's return never genuinely factors into our thinking. Even those caught up in the Left Behind novel series probably only change their 401K investment strategies in light of market developments rather than a belief that they won't need a retirement package once Christ has returned.
What we need in our modern lives is to recover something of the tension that exists within the New Testament as a whole. Yes, we must be concerned with providing for the needs of our families and ourselves. Yes, we do have households to run and children whose futures we need to prepare for. But too often there is little difference between the way we attend to these secular concerns and the ways the broader culture attends to them. We need to order our lives in such a way as to bring about the passing away of the injustices of the "present form of this world." Answering Christ's call to "follow me" must mean leaving some things behind if it is to mean anything at all.
First Lesson Focus
Jonah 3:1-5, 10
Obviously, this text from Jonah is tied together with the gospel reading from Mark by the mention of repentance in both texts. Jesus, at the beginning of his ministry, announces that time has reached its climax and that the kingdom of God is at hand in his person. He therefore commands, "Repent, and believe in the gospel" (Mark 1:15). In the text from Jonah, we are told that the Ninevites turn from their evil ways, that is, they repent of the evil deeds they have done in the past and direct their lives in the opposite direction. God therefore "repents" of the judgment that he had intended to bring upon them; he changes his mind and does not destroy them.
That is a powerful lesson, for if God could forgive the Ninevites, he can forgive anyone. The city of Nineveh was the capital of the Assyrian Empire in the 8th century B.C., and it was famous for its cruelty toward defeated enemies and captive populations. "Upon whom has not come your unceasing evil?" asks the prophet Nahum of Nineveh (Nahum 3:19). The policy of the Assyrians was to deport captured populations to exile in Mesopotamia and to replace them in their homeland with aliens. For example, when the northern kingdom of Israel was captured by the troops of Assyria in 722-721 B.C., the 10 northern tribes were deported and were never heard from again. They were replaced in Palestine with the people who came to be known as the Samaritans, one of the reasons the Samaritans were so hated in New Testament times.
According to the story of Jonah, God forgives the evil ways of Nineveh, and that is what causes Jonah such distress in the book bearing his name. When he is first commanded by the Lord to go to Nineveh and to warn the inhabitants of God's coming destruction, he tries to escape God by going in exactly the opposite direction, toward Spain. But God pursues him and forces him to fulfill his mission. Jonah has to go to Nineveh and warn the population that in 40 days Nineveh will be overthrown. Then when the Ninevites and their king all heed that warning and repent of their evil ways, Jonah is so upset that he wishes he could die. He does not want God to forgive Nineveh. He wants God to destroy Nineveh, and if God will not do that, then Jonah thinks that there is no structure of justice in the world. Evildoers are not getting what they deserve. And so life is not worth living, as far as Jonah is concerned.
But God does forgive Nineveh, according to our text. What does that say to us? That God can forgive even the most evil regimes and persons on the face of the earth, if they turn from their evil ways? That God could forgive a repentant Hitler or Osama bin Laden? That God can receive back into his company the cruelest, most vile perpetrator of wickedness if that one turns from his evil way? Is it true, then, that the Lord has no pleasure in the death of anyone and desires that all persons change and live? (Ezekiel 18:32).
That is comforting to us on this third Sunday of Epiphany, isn't it? To be sure, we have not done the vile deeds that Nineveh or Hitler or Osama bin Laden or other despots did. But we know in our hearts that we have some pretty awful deeds and words of which to be sorry. Maybe we wrecked a marriage with unfaithfulness, or misguided a friend or neighbor, or aborted a child or did some other evil, and the guilt for that burdens our sleep and consciences. But the message of Jonah is that the Lord can forgive even the most grievous of our sins and accept us back into fellowship with himself, if we truly turn around and decide to lead a new and different life. As Jonah himself states, using that ancient creed that is found so often in the Old Testament, God is a gracious God and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love (Jonah 4:3), and God's ever-present will for us is that we turn and live, or, in the words of Jesus, that we repent and believe in the gospel.
But another question arises out of our text. As 3:10 reads, it appears that the Lord decides not to destroy Nineveh because the Ninevites, from the least of them to the greatest, have repented. That is, it looks from the text as if repentance automatically causes God to turn aside his judgment -- God's hand is forced by what the Ninevites do. Does that mean, therefore, that if we repent and turn from our sinful ways, God will always forgive and accept us? I once had a student in a preaching class who stated that such was the case. If we repent, he declared, God is forced to forgive us. We, in a sense, can manipulate God's attitude toward us.
But the Ninevite king, in the story of Jonah, knows differently. In 3:8-9, he commands, "Let every one turn from his evil way and from the violence which is in his hands. Who knows, God may yet repent and turn from his fierce anger, so that we perish not?" God might forgive us, or he might not. In other words, the Ninevite king knows that the Lord God is not coerced by any action of human beings. God is the Lord, free to do as he wills. As the Lord tells Moses much earlier, "I will be gracious to whom I will be gracious, and will show mercy on whom I will show mercy" (Exodus 33:19). But the decision is up to God! If we repent of some evil we have done in the past, and vow to do differently in the future, that does not necessarily mean that God accepts us back. For one thing, God knows our hearts, and he knows if our repentance is real or not. He also knows what he has planned for our futures, and if there is some future happening that will lead us into far deeper and more sincere repentance and trust in him. God may have planned a far more comprehensive transformation of our lives than any repentance on our part here this morning brings about.
You see, the Christian life finally consists in absorbing into our hearts and minds the fact that God is truly Lord of our lives. Our existence, our future, our destiny rest totally in his hands. He is not a God who can be manipulated by our prayers or even by our faith. He is not a Lord whom we can command to do anything, not even by our repentance. He is not a servant nor a puppet, subject to our desires. And really, the only prayer that you and I have in his lordly Presence is, "Lord, be merciful to me, a sinner."
The amazing fact is, however, that as Lord and ruler and sole owner of our lives, this God of ours, made known in Jesus Christ, is also the God of infinite love and forgiveness, who listens to our prayers, who cherishes our trust and who wills that not one of us be lost to him and his joyful household. So, yes, good Christians, repent and believe in the gospel. For the Lord is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love. And he told us that "there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over 99 righteous persons who need no repentance" (Luke 15:7).
The Political Pulpit
Jonah 3:1-5, 10
Jonah did not want to go to Nineveh, to the land of his Assyrian enemies. Although the book of Jonah was not written until the 5th or 4th century B.C., well after the Assyrian Empire had conquered the northern kingdom of Israel's capital of Samaria, any reader in that era would have known that a northern Jew (like Jonah) would regard Assyria and its capital Nineveh as the great Satan. Jonah's unwillingness to go there and to aid the people with prophetic proclamation made perfect sense. No one wants to help the enemy. Even nations are not inclined to aid and comfort the enemy, not even their former enemies.
The book of Jonah tries to undo these human inclinations with a message of forgiveness and inclusivity for us and for our nation (4:10-11). As God sent Jonah to proclaim a Word of judgment and repentance to his peoples' enemies, so he sends our nation and us as individuals to minister to our (former) enemies.
There are rich precedents in American history for this sort of national ethic. One thinks of Lincoln's strategy of a generous reunion with the South as well as of the post-World War II Marshall Plan and its profound impact on the economic life and present prosperity of much of Western Europe and Japan. We have not implemented such a strategy in full with more recent former enemies, only partially building bridges to Vietnam and Afghanistan, and not at all with Cuba and Iraq. Why not? This text affords an opportunity for a sermon that can at least provide an occasion for you to help the citizens of your town raise questions about our foreign policy, questions around which some public consensus could emerge.
The "peacenik" in me sees this as a text about reconciliation with the enemy. But it is not that simple. The book of Jonah reflects some sound political realism along with its Word of reconciliation. If we read the three omitted verses of the lesson (vv. 6-9), we observe that there was not just a general consensus among the people of Nineveh that Jonah's preaching mandated repentance. The king was moved and eventually issued a proclamation to implement the repentance in the city as a whole. This serves as a reminder that public opinion alone is not sufficient if peace and national well-being are to reign. The political leaders must get on board for it to happen.
Apply this insight to present policy and past successes achieving international reconciliation. The aforementioned Marshall Plan and Lincoln's somewhat aborted strategy were predicated on the unconditional surrender of the former enemies. We clearly do not have that in the case of Vietnam or Cuba, which remain Communist and continue to propagate their share of anti-Americanism at official levels of power. Perhaps the Cuban-American community has a point in warning us against complete normalization of relations with the motherland. Unlike the case of ancient Nineveh, the ruler (Castro) is not calling for repentance. Neither public consensus among the Cuban masses, nor economic relationships which seem to ignore their government may be sufficient to reconcile us with Castro.
This brings us to the pressing situations in Afghanistan and Iraq with regard to today's war on terrorism. These nations' links to Osama Bin Laden and his al Qaeda terrorists are enemies (which the Jonah story entails) that warrant our care and concern. But while the new Afghan government is working for healing and repentance, and so warrants our going to its Ninevahs for reconciliation, Iraq's leader Saddam Hussein stands defiantly against us. As long as he is in place, peaceful sojourns to his Ninevah are likely to create little more than some popular Iraqi discontent. For Hussein has actually violated the terms of the 1991 Gulf War surrender, requiring him to end the development of nuclear, biological, and chemical weapons. Nineveh, recall, did not complete its repentance without the king's decree.
The message of this text, then, urges a twofold strategy in our present international context. American Christians are right to encourage our political leaders to go to Nineveh, to make every effort to meet with our enemies. But we must never forget how the book of Jonah reports the impact of having our former (and present) enemies' rulers repent. In that sense the internal struggles between Bush's hawks like Rumsfeld and Cheney versus Powell and the other cautionaries is a healthy dialogue to be encouraged.
