I recently lived in the town of Charlottesville, Virginia. In the center of our wonderful little city, there was a ten-block stretch of downtown lined with wonderful shops, boutiques, theatres, and eateries. Closed to traffic, this wonderful brick-paved mall was marked on one end by the luxurious Omni hotel and, on the other, a pavilion and free-speech monument decorated with quotes from favorite native Thomas Jefferson. Strolling through this Downtown Pedestrian Mall, with friends or alone, was one of my favorite things to do in Charlottesville. Many others felt the same way so the mall was frequently crowded. It attracted the attention of some interesting individuals including street musicians, panhandlers, performers, tourists, solicitors, political candidates, and some rather talented young jugglers.
And, on at least a half-dozen occasions during my five years in Charlottesville, preachers. I found it most interesting to see, in the middle of this busy and bustling mall, a man standing on a soap box shouting the “Word of God.” Being naturally curious, I wanted to learn about what others believed and how they expressed those beliefs, but I never really got the chance because every time I happened to pass a preacher, I was with someone who was less curious than I and pulled me away, or I was in a hurry for an appointment or a film showing.
I never got to hear more than a minute or so of their speech. But one curious thing that I did notice was that, by far, I was not the only one who wasn’t listening. Hundreds and hundreds of people walked right passed the preacher as if he wasn’t there. Once or twice, there was one person who had stopped and was watching the preacher; the other times, there was not a single listener. But that did not stop the preacher; he shouted to the crowd as if hundreds were wrapped up in every word he said.
It turns out, this is not at all uncommon in our society. If you go to Times Square in New York, you could witness pretty much the same thing, except that there would be thousands rather than hundreds of people who were ignoring the street preacher. Another example is a news story from a few months back that perhaps you heard about: a man named Camping predicted the world would end on May 21. Hardly anyone paid any attention to him; most of those who did regarded him as a curious freak rather than taking him seriously.
You see, most people don’t listen to street preachers despite how powerful and timely their message might be. Most of them are not very successful at what they do. And yet, from time to time, there are some who are very successful. One of the most successful was Jonah, the prophet whom we read about every Yom Kippur. Jonah convinced the entire city of Nineveh, which was so wicked God had decreed its destruction, to change its ways. Jonah was so persuasive that the people repented and fasted. And when the King of Nineveh heard Jonah’s word, he decreed by law that everyone—even the animals—must fast and put on sackcloth. God was so impressed by the conversion of the Ninevites that he rescinded his decree of destruction.
Now that’s a successful street preacher! How did Jonah do it? What did he say to the Ninevites? Well, according to the text, in Chapter 3, verse 4, Jonah said, “Forty days more and Nineveh will be overthrown!”
That’s it. That’s all he had to say. At least according to the text. Really? Can this be so? Is it possible that, century after century, preacher after preacher can go on and on and have little effect but all Jonah has to do is say, “In 40 days, your city will be destroyed,” and suddenly all the sinners repent?
Quite frankly, I don’t buy it. It’s just way too easy to be believable. First of all, most prophets can’t get away with such a brief speech. Take Isaiah, for example, one of the greatest prophets. He goes on and on in great detail, with lots of specifics, about what the people are doing wrong, how God will punish them if they don’t change their ways, and what they must do to change to avoid the punishments.
Secondly, in literature, film, and real life, most sinners need some big, negative event to shake them and make them change their ways. I knew an alcoholic who wasn’t convinced anything was wrong with his lifestyle until he was in a car accident. And Hollywood movies are filled with stories of repentant sinners, but they are never convinced to change their ways simply by listening to a preacher on the street.
For example, just last week, Natasha and I watched a movie called “Holy Rollers” about a young Hassidic man who becomes a drug dealer and slides into a very dangerous world full of sin. Lots of people try to warn him and bring him back—his rabbi, his father, his best friend—but he won’t listen to any of them. When his partner double-crosses his boss, he knows he’s in dangerous territory, but he doesn’t do anything about it. Not yet. Then there is another scene where he is approached on the street by a Lubavitcher who helps him lay tefillin; it begins to awaken a consciousness inside him, but it’s still not enough. Not until those immediately next to him are arrested is he finally shaken enough to repent and turn from his ways.
Most sinners need a real shake-up in their lives. Jonah, himself, had one. He too was a sinner. He directly disobeyed God and ran away from his responsibilities. Only after being swallowed by a big fish did he change and follow God’s orders.
Maybe this personal experience is part of what he shared with the Ninevites. But it doesn’t say so in the text. I can’t help but feel there is something missing here. I can’t help but feel that there was far more to this speech—that it was one of the greatest and most powerful speeches in history—but that it was not written down or that it was lost.
I find it extremely frustrating. I want to know what more Jonah said. How do you convince a sinner to change his or her ways?
Now maybe it is possible that there is nothing more. A number of commentators have tried to explain how this simple phrase—“Your city will be destroyed in 40 days”—had such a profound effect.
One possibility suggested by a midrash, the Ninth Century text entitled “Pirke D’rabbi Eliezer,” is that the King of Nineveh is actually the Egyptian Pharaoh from Exodus. He certainly knows what God is capable of and doesn’t need many details to be convinced of God’s power, so that when he hears of Jonah’s few words, he is quick to proclaim a fast.
While this little midrash may satisfy some people’s concern about how Jonah could be so persuasive, I can’t accept it. First of all, Jonah is living at least 300, maybe 400 years after the exodus; I can’t believe that the Pharaoh would still be alive. Nor can I find it credible that after the exodus he’d just up and leave Egypt and become King of a foreign city. Furthermore, the Pharaoh at the end of the exodus, who has lost his son and his army, is a radically changed man. (Think of Yul Brenner in “The Ten Commandments” who finally admits, with his last line, “His God is God.”) I just don’t see this man now presiding over a city of sinners.
Now it is possible that the king may not have been Pharaoh but at least been someone who was familiar with the God of Israel, as Natasha suggested to me. But that still ignores the very important fact that before the king even hears of Jonah, first the people believe Jonah. To me, their belief is primary to the king’s belief.
Another suggestion comes from a contemporary website called Baseball Chapel Dot Org. They suggest that Jonah’s appearance had a startling effect on those who saw him. They say, “his skin and hair [were] stained and bleached by digestive juices [and] sand, and [he reeked of] the smell of those juices and saltwater!” Well, it paints quite a wild image. And that may, in fact be what Jonah presented.
Of course, this assumes that Jonah didn’t have time to clean himself up after getting spit out by the fish. And maybe he didn’t. But even still, looking wild and frenetic is just not enough for me. I need more.
I spent the last several days frustrated, convinced that there was more to Jonah’s speech and, short of a sudden new discovery of a lost Dead Sea Scroll, we’d never have it.
But why was I so desperate to have a copy of this speech that probably didn’t exist? Then it suddenly hit me; I was looking for the easy way out. I wanted someone else to tell me how to convince a sinner to change his ways, rather than having to figure it out myself.
And maybe that’s what the writer of Jonah was up to. He wasn’t going to give his readers the easy answer; he wanted to challenge his readers to figure this out for themselves. In the end, the point is not so much what Jonah said or didn’t say; it’s what we, as the readers, might say.
So suppose I was confronted by a friend who had turned against the ways of God, who became self-centered and sinful. What would I say to him? Would I tell him stories of sin and redemption or sin and punishment? Why he should fear God? Or love God? Would I tell him that moral behavior is actually a practical matter of self-interest because of Karma—i.e. what you do unto others, they’ll do unto you? Would I appeal to his conscience and sense of morality; tell him about responsibility to community and the common bond of human brotherhood? Or simply talk about that wonderful rush you get from doing the right thing just because it’s right?
It’s a wonderful dialogue to have inside your head. And perhaps maybe someday a real dialogue with a real person. That’s what Jonah did and, with deep internal reflection, we can each become Jonah ourselves.
Quoting Isaiah to a sinner probably won’t get us very far. But quoting ourselves, I think, has a much better chance.