Part 1: Introduction  | Part 2: Jonah, for the First Time | Part 3: Exemplary Pagans | Part 4: A Psalm | Part 5: More Exemplary Pagans  

Jonah’s story closes with a second conversation with God (the first being chapter 2). It begins by showing us Jonah’s heart, and it ends by showing us God’s heart. The contrast is instructive for our thesis. 

Jonah’s Heart 

The chapter starts with the word “but.” Following God’s forgiveness of the repentant people of Nineveh at the closing of the previous chapter (Jon 3.10), Jonah is deeply unhappy. God is pleased; the prophet is displeased. He wanted to deliver the message of judgment, but he did not want the evil ones to be forgiven. 

And now we learn why he sailed for Tarshish—the ends of the earth—when God first commissioned him: 

O Lord, was not this my saying, when I was yet in my country? Therefore I fled before unto Tarshish: for I knew that thou art a gracious God, and merciful, slow to anger, and of great kindness, and repentest thee of the evil (Jon 4.2). 

“I knew you’d do this!” he rants. “I knew you were just the sort of person who would forgive them!” 

How did he know that? He knew it because that is how God has revealed himself throughout the Hebrew Scriptures, beginning with Moses at Sinai (Ex 34.6-7) and continuing through Israel’s entrance into the Promised Land, and the Psalms, and on the return from Babylon, and (after Jonah) in the prophet Joel. Here Jonah is essentially quoting God’s words to Moses some seven centuries earlier. 

And Jonah didn’t want that. 

And this despite the fact that he had just been delivered from a destruction (Jon 2.10) that he completely deserved (Jon 1.12). Grace for me, he thinks, but not for thee. Because I hate you. You’re my enemy. I’d rather die than see grace come to you (Jon 4.3). 

As at the very beginning of his story, Jonah’s will is at cross purposes with God’s. 

Some prophet. 

God’s Heart 

God asks Jonah a simple question—“Are you doing right?” (Jon 4.4), and then the conversation pauses while God gives the rebellious, blindly angry prophet an object lesson. 

This is the Mesopotamian desert. It’s barren, except just along the banks of the Tigris River, and it’s really, really hot. Jonah hikes up a hillside for a good view of the city, in desperate hope that God will nuke the Assyrians just as he did the Sodomites. He builds some kind of rudimentary shelter for shade from the sun—using whatever materials he can find in this desert—and he waits (Jon 4.5). 

And God, the Teacher, causes a vine to grow up in just a day, a vine with good-sized leaves to give Jonah further protection from the sun (Jon 4.6). 

Aaahhh. Thank you, Lord. You are so kind. 

But the next day the vine withers and dies. And then a hot, dry desert wind, like a scirocco, arises and just saps the life out of everything, especially Jonah (Jon 4.8). Now he’s thirsty; he has sand in his throat and in his eyes and in his ears and he’s more miserable than he’s ever been, and on top of everything, the sandstorm is so thick that he won’t be able to see anything even if God does destroy Nineveh. 

And now the conversation resumes. 

You feel bad about the vine, do you? An insensate, transitory vine? (Jon 4.9-10). 

What about all these people, who do live and feel and suffer? Including 120,000 children, too young to know left from right? (Jon 4.11). 

What about the children, indeed. 

And here the story ends. 

We don’t know how Jonah answers, or whether he answers. We don’t know how or whether the conversation continues—is this a rhetorical question that God tosses over his shoulder as he strides, so to speak, out of Jonah’s life forever? 

We know that at some later time Jonah writes the story down, or he tells it to someone else who writes it down, and that the account finds its way into the Israelite literary corpus and eventually the Hebrew Scripture. That gives us some hope that the old bigot came to his senses; perhaps he realized that at core, he too was an Assyrian. Or, as pastor and hymnwriter Chris Anderson has preached, “I am the Samaritan woman.” 

But leaving the speculation aside, what do we learn from this prophet about how to think about our enemies? 

Our first principle:  

God loves our enemies just as much as he loves us. 

Perhaps that’s why he tells us to love our enemies (Mt 5.44), and also to be like him (1P 1.16). 

If you want your enemies destroyed, you’re doing it wrong. 

If you would be pleased to see them judged, you’re doing it wrong. 

Next time, we’ll begin our look at Nahum. 

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Part 1: Introduction  | Part 2: Jonah, for the First Time | Part 3: Exemplary Pagans | Part 4: A Psalm 

Act II of this morality play, as we’ve noted, follows the same structure as Act I. It begins with God’s command to Jonah to go to Nineveh and prophesy (Jon 3.1-2). In chapter 1 the command was the same, but it was accompanied by a reason: Nineveh’s wickedness. The explanation obviously isn’t necessary the second time. 

This second time, in stark contrast, Jonah obeys immediately. No doubt his experience of disobedience has motivated him to behave himself. So off he goes to Nineveh (Jon 3.3). 

There’s considerable discussion about the statement that “Nineveh was an exceeding great city of three days’ journey.” That sounds at first as though it took three days to get there; but following the Fertile Crescent, which was the only way anyone could survive the trip, Nineveh was over 500 miles from the nearest part of Israel, a distance well over “three days’ journey.” Some scholars think the city was so large that it would take someone three days to travel through it, preaching along the way (cf. Jon 3.4). Others have held that it would take three days to travel its circumference. I’m inclined to agree with a recent theory that on official visits to highly important cities, diplomats would spend three days there:

“On the first day a state visitor (ambassador, visiting royalty, etc.) would arrive, get settled, locate the appropriate government officials and present credentials to them. On the second day the visitor would be received by the official(s) in charge and the desired business would be conducted. On the third day an official send-off would be provided, with any responses to the government of the visiting state handed over to the emissaries at that time” (New Bible Commentary). 

Thus it’s a measure not of distance, but of geopolitical significance. 

Makes sense, but I note that Jonah didn’t follow that procedure. 

At any rate, it’s safe to say that nobody’s really sure at this point what the phrase means. 

When Jonah arrives, he gets right to work, going directly downtown, so to speak, and delivering his exceedingly brief message: 

Yet forty days, and Nineveh shall be overthrown (Jon 3.4). 

And once again, the pagans respond better than the prophet does. They repent and believe (Jon 3.5). I note that those two actions are the very definition of conversion. The author seems to say that this repentance was universal in the city. Even the king repented (Jon 3.6) and proclaimed citywide repentance (Jon 3.7-8). 

And he gives his reason: perhaps this foreign god will show them mercy (Jon 3.9). 

I suppose we could question whether everyone was completely sincere; when an ancient Near Eastern potentate issues a proclamation, it’s wise to do whatever he says if you value your life. But God does respond favorably to this remarkable mass repentance (Jon 3.10); apparently it was good enough for him. Centuries later, Jesus would use their repentance as an example of what God wanted from his own chosen people (Mt 12.38-41). 

Now, that raises a question. God didn’t say his threat was conditional, did he? Jonah, the prophet, had simply promised judgment. Did God break his threatening promise? 

There are hints even in the prophecy that it might not be literally fulfilled—that God was offering them a chance at deliverance. First, he sent a prophet. Second, he gave them forty days to think about it. Both of those facts imply that mercy was available. And apparently the Ninevites didn’t need the whole forty days to make up their minds. 

Why did they respond so quickly and decisively? 

Assyrian inscriptions indicate that the Assyrians viewed certain omens as calling for fasting: invasion, eclipse, famine, and flood. One commentator notes, 

“Before Jonah arrived at this seemingly impregnable fortress-city, two plagues had erupted there (in 765 and 759 B.C.) and a total eclipse of the sun occurred on June 15, 763. These … may help explain why the Ninevites responded so readily to Jonah’s message, around 759” (Bible Knowledge Commentary). 

So did God change his mind (Jon 3.10)? I’ve written on that here before. 

This account makes it clear that God responds with mercy to people who genuinely seek it. We know that judgment did indeed come to a later generation of Ninevites, but to those who pled, God was kind. 

That’s part of what we’ll learn here in this series about how to think about our enemies. 

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Part 1: Introduction  | Part 2: Jonah, for the First Time | Part 3: Exemplary Pagans 

The disobedient prophet now finds himself dramatically rescued from drowning, but still in a difficult state: he’s in the belly of a great fish. He responds by praying, but not in the usual sense; he doesn’t ask God for anything, even though his circumstances are unpleasant. Instead he offers thanks to God for delivering him. We’re tempted to think that this means he has repented of his resistance to God’s will; but as we’ll soon discover, he has not. He’s apparently just relieved—very greatly relieved—that he’s not drowning anymore—as, I suppose, any of us would be. 

This prayer of thanksgiving is actually a psalm. One commentator notes, “Thanksgiving psalms have usually five elements: (i) an introductory statement of appreciation for rescue; (ii) a description of the misery rescued from; (iii) a description of the appeal for rescue; (iv) an indication of the rescue itself; and (v) a testimonial or vow to continue to show gratitude via future worship. The psalm of Jonah includes all five elements, in the order listed above” (New Bible Commentary). 

Naturally, there are sceptical scholars who question whether anyone could compose such a literary work under Jonah’s circumstances, and then remember it later to write it down. I readily confess that I couldn’t do it, but then, I’m not a prophet working under divine inspiration—and neither, I observe, are the sceptics. 

We have what we have, and we have no sufficient reason to reject it as spurious. So let’s allow the psalm to reveal its standard form. 

Statement of appreciation 

Jonah 2.2 is a declaration of his rescue and a strong implication of his gratitude (“He answered me … You heard my voice”). He emphasizes this by saying the same thing twice in slightly different words—what scholars call “synonymous parallelism.” He described his state as being rescued “from the depth of Sheol,” or the place of the dead. Interestingly, it was a common belief in those days that the journey to Sheol took the soul three days and three nights. The last verse of chapter 1 reports that that was how long Jonah spent in the fish’s stomach—an experience, then, of death itself. 

Misery Rescued From 

Jonah turns to describing the condition he was in before his rescue (Jon 2.3-6). 

Note that he says that God, not the sailors,  “cast [him] into the deep.” He recognizes the sailors as simply the agents of divine providence. 

“The deep” or “the roots of the mountains” may not mean literally the very bottom of the Mediterranean; its average depth is nearly a mile, and of course no one could hold his breath for the time needed to reach that depth. Hyperbole is one of many figures of speech commonly used in poetry. But he was in way over his head—literally—and he had no hope of survival apart from God’s intervention. 

Appeal for Rescue 

His appeal covers just one verse, Jonah 2.7. 

Jonah the rebellious prophet did what anybody of any spiritual state would do facing death: he prayed. And God heard him, and he suddenly found himself no longer drowning. How long it took him to figure out where he was we can’t know. He knew the place smelled bad, but he also knew he could breathe. To a drowning man, that is literally the only thing he wants. 

Rescue 

He describes the rescue itself in the last line, or stich, of verse 6 and in verse 8. God has “brought up [his] life from the pit.” Verse 8 describes those who “forsake their faithfulness,” reminding us that God and his people are in a relationship that expects commitment. By describing others this way, Jonah implies that God, unlike them, has been faithful to the relationship that they share. This is that great Hebrew word hesed, steadfast loving loyalty to a committed relationship. 

Gratitude 

Jonah expresses his gratitude and, like the sailors before him, promises to offer sacrifices of thanksgiving to his rescuer (Jon 2.9). 

Deliverance 

As many have noted, the fish was more obedient than the prophet (Jon 2.10). 

Chapter 3 will surprise us again. This psalm sounds as though Jonah is fully repentant. But he’s not. He’s happy for the deliverance, of course, but his heart still resists the call and will of God. 

More to come. 

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Part 1: Introduction  | Part 2: Jonah, for the First Time 

Though the book of Jonah is unusual among the Prophets, as we’ve noted, it does begin in the usual way, with a call from God to a prophet to deliver a message. God calls Jonah to deliver a message of judgment to Nineveh for its great wickedness. 

So far, so good. 

But verse 3 slaps us in the face with surprise. Jonah not only refuses the call (can prophets even do that?!), but he boards a ship bound for Tarshish, all the way at the other end of Mediterranean Sea, about as far as anyone of that day could get from Israel—or Nineveh. Does he think he can distance himself from God? 

And why does he run in the first place? We know that Assyria, of which Nineveh was the capital, was the imperial power of the day, and that it was unspeakably cruel as well. Assyrian soldiers would pile the heads of their conquered enemies in a pyramid at the front gate of the conquered city; they would cover the city walls with the skins of their victims; they would torture men, women, and children in ways that I choose not to specify. (This is a family-friendly blog, after all.) Further, both Hosea and Amos, who prophesied at roughly the same time as Jonah, warned that Israel would one day go into captivity in Assyria. All Jews, including Jonah, hated the Assyrians. Why would he hesitate to deliver a message of judgment? 

Well, we’re going to find out later, but until then we’ll have to be patient. 

Remember my earlier assertion that this book is not about Jonah, but about God? We see that demonstrated clearly in the rest of this first chapter, where the actor in chief is God himself. 

First God sends a great storm (Jonah 1.4)—literally, he “flung a powerful wind.” The sailors, likely Phoenicians, call out to their gods for help (Jonah 1.5); they do seem genuinely religious, not something we would expect of sailors—but then this is an unusual storm. 

Sidebar: I’ll note in passing that this account parallels in many ways the story of Jesus calming the Sea of Galilee. I’m not sure why, but it’s interesting to think about. 

Then they cast lots to see who’s to blame for the storm. The Mosaic Law condemns the use of various devices of divination, but these pagans do what comes naturally. And what do you know: here the lots are reliable. So here’s a second thing that God “throws” into the account. 

The lot identifies Jonah. By interviewing him, they learn where he’s from and can thereby identify, in their minds, which god is angry (Jonah 1.9). They ask the prophet how they can best appease his god (Jonah 1.11), and he tells them (Jonah 1.12). 

Initially they don’t want to throw him overboard; they try to row to shore. But since their efforts are to no avail (Jonah 1.13), and since Jonah has already told them what to do, they throw him overboard (Jonah 1.15)—they too do some throwing—but not before asking Jonah’s God to forgive them (Jonah 1.14). And they demonstrate reverent respect for the God of Israel (Jonah 1.16). 

How much better were the pagans than the prophet? Though he had nearly cost them their lives, they treated him with kindness and grace. And how was Jonah treating his enemies? Even worse than it initially seems; as I’ve noted, the full explanation will come later. 

There’s a third thing that the Lord sends. He sends a great fish (Jonah 1.17), who swallows the drowning prophet, thereby protecting him from the raging sea. 

Now, this is a mixed bag. He’s no longer drowning—he can still breathe—but what he’s breathing is pretty unpleasant; we’ve all learned what stomach contents smell like when they show up uninvited. 

This first of the two narratives in the book will end, as I’ve noted, with a conversation with God. We’ll look at that next time. 

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Part 1: Introduction 

We all think we know the story of Jonah and the whale.

Well, clearly, we don’t.

It wasn’t called a whale, but a “great fish.” Now, the word fish can refer to anything that looks like what we think of as a fish, so I suppose the creature could have been a whale. Back then, biological taxonomy wasn’t what it is today.

But the book of Jonah is not about the fish. It really isn’t even about Jonah; Jonah is the foil for God, who is the real protagonist.

In the first verse we learn that Jonah is a son of Amittai. That’s also noted in 2 Kings 14.25, where we also learn that he was from Gath Hepher, a village in Galilee, just 3 miles northeast of Nazareth. So he was from the Northern Kingdom of Israel. The Kings passage also places him in the reign of Jeroboam II. Scholars note that Assyria and its capital Nineveh were weak around that time, a fact that might explain the Ninevite king’s apparent humility and call for repentance.

Before we get to the theology, we ought to ask a basic question: Is the story true?

There are elements of the story that, though not technically miraculous, are remarkable evidences of providence—most especially the fish, of course, and the rapidly living and dying vine. Sceptics would reject anything smacking of the miraculous. But scholars have noted that this story doesn’t have the typical characteristics of allegory, or parable, or fable. There’s no known fictional form into which the story robustly fits.

If there is a God, and if he acts, then there is no reason to reject the story as fictional. And since the 2 Kings passage is historical narrative, not historical fiction, a reader would have to reject more than just the fish to call the whole account unhistorical.

Of course Jesus referred to Jonah (Mt 12.39-41). Now there is such a thing as literary allusion, and if I refer to Ebenezer Scrooge as a stingy old miser, that doesn’t mean I think he actually existed. But Jesus referred to Jonah as a prophet, not merely a fictional character, and he cited the conversion of Nineveh as an example for Israel—a fact that would make little sense if the Ninevites’ repentance never happened. Further, in the same discourse Jesus cited the Queen of Sheba (Mt 12.42), whom the Scripture presents as clearly a historical figure.

Jonah is a unique book among the prophets, in that it contains almost no prophecy. His entire prophetic message consists of a few words in Jonah 3.4; the rest is narrative. Further, most other prophets don’t engage in dialogue with God (Habakkuk being the most notable exception). And Jonah, of all the prophets, is simply a bad guy. He’s a bigot who refuses God’s command and complains when the prophecy is fulfilled.

Maybe there’s hope for some of the rest of us to be prophets.

I’m kidding, of course.

The book is structured* around two times that God called Jonah (Jon 1.2; 3.1-2). He disobeys the first call, but a group of pagans, the sailors, demonstrate more piety than he does. He obeys the second call, but only reluctantly, and again, a group of pagans—this time the Ninevites—demonstrate more piety than he does. In both halves of the book, Jonah ends up in a private conversation with the Almighty, and there we get to the meat of the book: who God is with respect to his enemies—and by implication, who we should be as well.

* I’m indebted to the Holman Concise Bible Commentary for this structural analysis.

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