Third Sunday before Advent (Remembrance Sunday) 2018

Jonah 3:1-5, 10 and Hebrews 9:24-28 and Mark 1:14-20

The tale of Jonah is a satirical short story for our times. Like Jesus’ parables, it is a work of fiction, not reportage; and like Jesus’ parables — indeed, all good fiction — its purpose is to slip past our defences. The story covers a lot of ground, beginning in Israel before heading west across the Mediterranean Sea towards Spain, and then turning back on itself and heading east to Syria. But really it is a mapping-survey of the geography of the human heart, ahead of an invasion.

Jonah himself was a known historical figure, anchored in turbulent time. King David and then his son Solomon had between them ruled for eighty years of relative peace and prosperity, but following Solomon’s death the kingdom divided in two, Israel to the north declaring independence from Judah to the south. Israel was ruled from Samaria, and Judah from Jerusalem, by two parallel lines of kings in uneasy truce with each other. Meanwhile, off-stage, other empires were rising. Assyria would lay successful siege to Samaria, and unsuccessful siege to Jerusalem. Later, the Babylonians would swallow the Assyrians — like a great fish swallowing a man whole — and lay successful siege to Jerusalem. Later still, the Persian empire would swallow-up the Babylonians.

Jonah, as I said, was a known historical figure. He was a prophet, a messenger from Yahweh, the Lord God, sent to the northern kingdom of Israel to proclaim the message, ‘Repent, or you shall be overthrown!’ Turn back to the God who brought your ancestors out of slavery in Egypt, or you will find yourselves in captivity again! But the people did not listen. The line of kings sitting in their palace in Samaria kept leading the people away from God, not back to God. And in the end the Assyrian army came and led them in the direction they had so determinedly chosen: away.

At the time of Jonah, the Assyrians were the very worst sort of people imaginable. The term Ninevite refers to the residents of their capital Nineveh; but it was synonymous with cruelty. All of which makes Jonah the perfect candidate for our story, and Nineveh the perfect destination. The word of the Lord came to Jonah, saying, ‘Go at once to Nineveh, that great city, and cry out against it; for their wickedness has come up before me.’ But Jonah sets out in the opposite direction, to the nearest port, in search of passage to the furthest edge of the world, where the Mediterranean joins the Atlantic Ocean. Fair enough, one might surmise: why go kicking a hornets’ nest? But it will transpire that Jonah does not run away because he is afraid of the Ninevites. Rather, he runs away because he is afraid that God intends to show mercy on them.

Jonah runs away to sea. God hurls a great wind upon the sea, causing a mighty storm, which is only calmed when Jonah persuades the sailors to throw him overboard. But God does not want Jonah as a dead sacrifice. God wants him as a living sacrifice. So, God sends a large fish to swallow him up, and, after three days and three nights, spew him up on dry ground. Self-chosen exile, and divinely-ordered return.

This is where we picked the story up. The word of the Lord came to Jonah a second time, again calling him to go and proclaim the message he had been entrusted with to the people of Nineveh. And it is, essentially, the same message that Jonah had been entrusted with to proclaim to his own people. But here is the satirical irony [in verses the Lectionary misses out, for no good reason]: the king of Nineveh, of these the worst people imaginable, the great enemy, rose from his throne and led his citizens in repentance.

And so, God, too, repents — that is, changes his mind, in the light of new evidence, of new circumstances, and takes a different course of action. And this — to continue with the satire — was very displeasing to Jonah. How dare the enemy of his people be more-godly than his own people!? How dare God care for the people of Nineveh on an equal footing with the people of Samaria!? The mask slips, and Jonah admits that he ran away because he did not want God to be who God had always claimed to be: a gracious God and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, and ready to relent from punishing. In this moment, in these circumstances, Jonah would rather die than serve such a God.

Jonah is not alone. He isn’t a bad guy, he is a human being. And in common with all of us he is a sinner. That is not a moral judgement — you can be a righteous sinner or a wicked sinner — but, rather, it is a theological statement meaning that we are separated from God, from our neighbour, and from ourselves; and need reconciliation. That separation is expressed in our running away from God, but it is also expressed in our running to keep up with God. When Jonah runs away, he experiences the wrath of God — more theology, not irrational anger, as some fear, but that felt weight of God resisting our plans. This is as much an aspect of divine mercy and grace as is rescue and shelter. No matter how far we run away from God, when we can go no farther, we discover that God is right there.

Now, Jesus was sent with the same message as Jonah: “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe the good news.” That is: this is a moment of crisis that demands an urgent decision, God is about to judge the nations; turn back to him, and embrace a way of relating to others that is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love, ready to relent from punishing.

There is an urgency to the proclamation, and to the called-for response. In the verses we heard read, Mark uses the word ‘immediately’ in relation to both Jesus and his first disciples. But it isn’t rushed. There is deliberate intention at work. Mark emphasises this when he tells us that Simon and Andrew were casting a net into the sea ‘for they were fishermen’. They weren’t simply filling time, until something more interesting or exciting comes along; and their following Jesus is just as purposeful, to fish for people. In the following verses, we discover that those people were — as in the days of Jonah — the worst sort imaginable: the demonised, the sick, those considered unclean, those paralysed by their (withheld) need for forgiveness, tax collectors, sinners. And there are some upright religious people who are deeply perplexed that God should long to show mercy to people like that.

You see, in Jesus, God went to the end of the age in hope of reconciliation with humanity (Hebrews 9:26). That is, Jesus brought to its end the age of earthly empires and ushered-in the age of the kingdom of God. In his followers, sent to all peoples, Jesus goes to the ends of the earth to proclaim and act-out that reconciliation. There is something deeply poignant to the young men being called away from home, a Pal’s Battalion recruited in the cause of peace.

Here we are, once again, on Remembrance Sunday. We remember the cost of enmity in the cycle of friends-become-enemies-become-friends-again-become-enemies-once-more. We also come, as followers of Jesus, to help one another to remember ourselves, to turn from all that divides us from our neighbour, and to commit ourselves to work for peace. In this centenary of the 1918 cease-fire, the call is as urgent and clear as it was in the days of Jonah and of Jesus. Go in peace, to love and serve the Lord. In the name of Christ, amen.