Jonah and the Cost of Forgiveness
Sometimes less is more, but in the case of Jonah 3: 1-5 and 10, less is definitely less. That excerpt from the Book of Jonah relates an abbreviated version of the reluctant prophet whom God sent to preach repentance to the people of Nineveh. In this shortened form, which was the first reading for the 3rd Sunday in Ordinary Time, many of the bits that make the story so engaging failed to make the cut. What we’re left with is a spare version that leaves us a lot less to mull over.
What’s excised is what gives the tale such color. Jonah, like most of the Israelites, despised the people of Nineveh. So determined was Jonah to keep their impending doom a secret that he fled in the opposite direction of where God intended him to be. That’s when he boarded a boat, was thrown overboard by his fellow passengers, swallowed by a great fish, and then spat out on the shore. There he stood facing in the direction of Nineveh.
To his discredit, Jonah neglected to point out the possibility of reform, and instead only preached impending doom. We can only imagine his disgust when the residents connected the dots, took to heart the warning, repented and were spared destruction. For Jonah this was the worst possible outcome, and he made no bones about saying so.
Whatever this may suggest about the people of Nineveh, the larger version of the story says more about Jonah. Jonah could not accept that God might forgive people whom he despised. Worse still, even after their repentance he likely saw no good in the people of Nineveh. They still deserved annihilation.
The lesson for me seems more than obvious. God can and does forgive other people, whether I think they deserve it or not. Worse still, there may be people whom I care not a fig for, but is it really right to rejoice when they can’t seem to turn their lives around or lament when they do? There’s no virtue in either course, and it eats away at my own integrity.
Jonah’s is a cautionary tale. What happens to me when I doubt God’s wisdom or resent when flawed people get back on their feet and put their lives together? That’s when I have some serious self-examination to do. Sometimes the best course is to take up my proverbial mat, get up and get on with life. After all, my neighbors were also created in the image of God, and Jesus came to save even the least of them. Who am I to resent his success? Who am I to stand in the way of Jesus? It’s an awkward spot to be, and the failure to forgive can be costly.
NOTES
+On January 17th we celebrated the feast of Saint Anthony Abbot, a 4th-century Egyptian monk who became an icon of the monastic way of life. He was particularly popular in the later Middle Ages, and artistic renditions of him abound. At the top of the post is a panel by Neroccio de’ Landi, showing Saint Anthony to the left of the Madonna and Child, with Saint Sigismund on the right. Painted ca. 1490, it is now in the National Gallery in Washington. Below that is a panel showing Saint Anthony on the left, with Saint Bernardino of Siena on the right. Painted by Jacobo Bellini ca. 1459, Venice, it is also in the National Gallery. The third panel, painted ca. 1440 by Fra Angelico, now hangs in the Art Institute in Chicago. At bottom is the Madonna, with Saint Anthony to her left. Created by Puccinelli de Simone and Allegretto Nuzzolese, (Florence, mid-14th century), it is now in the National Gallery in Washington.