Proper 20 2014

Proper 20, 2014

Jonah had a problem. Not only did he find himself out in the heat of the sun—but more than anything else, he had an attitude problem.

Now, to be fair, Jonah had been through quite a lot, and those of you who know his story will agree that he had some reason to be a little out of sorts… I mean, here we have a prophet, called to serve the kingdom of Israel. This would be the Northern Kingdom, after the united nation of Israel had split into two separate kingdoms: Israel and Judah.

Anyway, after this split, we know that one of the major political powers of the time, the Assyrians, had come and sacked Israel, taking people from the ruling class into Exile, and up-rooted them from the land that was promised to them as a sign of God’s Presence with them.

However, if this wasn’t enough of an insult, Jonah, a prophet called out of Israel, was called by God to preach repentance to the people of the city of Ninevah—the capital city of the Assyrians…the very people who had conquered Israel.

Well, as many of us know, it’s not an easy thing to run away from God—especially when we’re called to some difficult task. And things were no different for Jonah, either.

After chartering a ship, he made his way toward Tarshish—the opposite direction from Ninevah. Apparently, because of Jonah’s disobedience, a nasty storm came up, and threatened to sink the ship. Knowing that it was because of him, Jonah told the crew that the storm was because of him, and that they should throw him overboard.

After off-loading cargo, and all that they could, they finally came to the decision that they must do as Jonah suggested, and throw the prophet of God, overboard. If this wasn’t a slap in the face—again he was called to preach repentance to Ninevah, the capital city of the conquers of Israel—if the storm and being thrown overboard weren’t enough; Jonah, we’re told, was eaten by a giant fish…(at least it’s kosher).

Well, after three days and nights in the belly of the fish, Jonah had a miraculous change of heart, and went to Ninevah to preach repentance. Actually, the fish spit Jonah out to go preach repentance to Ninevah.

Jonah, then, fresh from the fishes tummy, went to Ninevah, and made the three-day walk from end to end in the city, and preached repentance. In the end, in spite of Jonah, perhaps hedging things a bit, the people of Ninevah repented, and God blessed them.

In our Old Testament reading today, then, we find Jonah moping after all of this had happened, and he’s understandably a little put-out. After all, he’d been called to be a prophet of God—to Israel, no less. He should have been calling the people of God back to a more holy, more connected life in God. However, instead, what he got was a mission trip to Ninevah, a nasty storm, eaten by a giant fish, and finally (perhaps for the worse) a positive response from the people of Ninevah… It seems Jonah couldn’t win, and in our reading we find him in an ill temper, trying to rest. Yet, even after all that’s happened, the bush that miraculously grew to give him shade gets eaten by a worm and withers away in the heat of the day.

Jonah says he’s angry enough about this to die, but we know that Jonah is probably only suffering from something like Irish Alzheimer’s. This is a condition, in which, a person can’t remember anything but the grudge. And although Jonah’s not Irish, we can see that he cannot let go of his anger toward Ninevah; toward the Assyrians; and the fact that God would allow such an obviously unholy and evil people to receive God’s love and forgiveness.

I suppose in its context, the story is easy to laugh at—Jonah comes across like Archie Bunker, while those of us reading the story just laugh and nod because we know that this is exactly how God works. God finds ways to draw the lost and wayward back. That’s the whole point and power of the Gospel, after all: God longs for reconciliation of all people.

However, this belief doesn’t become difficult until we put ourselves in the place of Jonah. In other words, when we begin to think of the difficult people that we know who might very well need the same grace and forgiveness extended to them, that we ourselves have found in the love of God…well, we might begin to understand Jonah’s reticence to go to Ninevah.

After all, it’s hard to think that someone who has done wrong to us might be given a free pass in God’s eyes, yet still remind us of all the wrong they’d done to us. However, as we know, this longing of God for reconciliation is far greater than any of us. In fact, it’s so great, that God even sent his own Son to teach us through his life, death and resurrection that God is serious about reconciliation.    

After apartheid had ended in South Africa, Archbishop Desmond Tutu says that the leadership of the country knew that reconciliation needed to happen. Somehow, the black majority, which had gained independence, had to confront the oppressive minority, which had made them second-class citizens of the country. Somehow, the oppressors needed to be held accountable, yet, somehow the people of South Africa (black and white) had to find a way forward to be a nation.

So, rather than throwing their oppressors out of the country, or putting them in prison, the South African government went through a long process of reconciliation, and they did this using a philosophy known as Ubuntu.

Ubuntu is effectively a philosophy that is understood as human-ness, and it considers that all of us are inter-connected. So, just as the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. said that “None of us are free until all of us are free,” Ubuntu understands that the plight of any of us affects the quality and value of all of us. In other words, it’s difficult to speak honestly about the sanctity and value of human life so long as we remain unmoved by the suffering and need of people throughout the world.

Archbishop Tutu has said, “A person with Ubuntu is open and available to others, affirming of others, does not feel threatened that others are able and good, based from a proper self-assurance that comes from knowing that he or she belongs in a greater whole and is diminished when others are humiliated or diminished, when others are tortured or oppressed (No Future Without Forgiveness).”

Now, understandably, when we hear these sorts of things, we probably think that these sound like wonderfully, impossible sentiments. But, then, if forgiveness and reconciliation were an easy thing, the world would be a much different place. And if we didn’t need forgiveness and reconciliation, I suppose we wouldn’t take three Sundays in the Lectionary to talk about it.

Besides, we also have to remember that this philosophy of Ubuntu was at the very heart of what made the transition from apartheid, to what South Africa is now, possible… So, maybe, reconciliation and forgiveness is possible—as much for individuals as it is for countries in transition.

The point is, when we’re unable to forgive and let go—or, even if we’re unable to accept that a particular person may have had a change of heart—we tangle ourselves up in all of the negativity that we perceive in that other person. We allow ourselves to be bound-up with the wrongs and hurt that defined the wrongs done to us, and, because we can’t let go, we allow them to define us… So, this idea of Ubuntu is correct when it says that we’re all inter-connected. The wrong that you have done to me will affect others so long as I am affected by it, because it will shape how I behave with others. And, if I allow such hurt to really get a deep hold on me, I will likely hurt others in turn, in an attempt to alleviate my own feelings of hurt.

But, just as the story of Jonah reminds us—for as silly, and like a situational comedy it may seem—forgiveness is important, necessary and divine work (sometimes in spite of us). Forgiveness is Godly work that all of us who bear Christ’s own name are called to in baptism, and through that call, we’re invited to continue in the work of reconciliation set forth by Jesus in his own ministry.

So, the work of forgiveness and reconciliation—even inviting others to experience forgiveness—is work that is much bigger than all of us; yet it begins with each of us, in our individual context. Because we understand that the grander work of God’s plan of salvation includes the work of all of our little moments—and is perhaps why this work is enough to drive a prophet of God into fits of rage.

It’s no secret that it can be difficult at times. However, when we really do the requisite soul searching that’s needed for the work of forgiveness and  reconciliation, I think we find that we can do it, because we, ourselves, need it as much as anyone else.