Jonah & Genre

3/21/07

Murder mysteries are a genre of novel; string quartets are a genre of music. It would be a genre mistake for me to read a John Grisham thriller as a legal brief; this is the kind of mistake that many people made reading Dan Brown’s Da Vinci Code: they confused it with history, which is a completely different genre. The converse mistake would be to criticize a science textbook for its slow plotline or a history textbook for lacking sufficient character development.

A similar mistake can (and does) happen when one reads the Bible, and misreads the genre of a particular book, account, or story. A simple example would be the parable of the talents. If one of the listeners had started asking Jesus questions about the name and background of one of the servants in the parable, Jesus would have scratched his head at that person’s misunderstanding. We also see this misunderstanding when people read the book of Revelation, and start making movies about its realistic portrayal. Let’s consider in detail another example of what often appears to be a genre misreading: the book of Jonah.

This is one of the most famous stories in the Bible, and most people undoubtedly heard it first in Bible class. The most ear-catching idea is that of Jonah being swallowed by a whale (or giant fish). The fantastic nature of this account has spawned numerous explanations of what kind of sea creature this could have been, and how it would be possible to survive three days (!) within its belly. Aside from making interesting conversation in Bible class, these discussions actually miss the point: I am going to argue that the author never meant for it to be taken literally. One might object, “But Jesus referred to the ‘sign of Jonah,’ so that makes it true.” Talking about a parable in terms of literal truthfulness misses the point. Just because Jesus refers to the story does not mean he thought it was literally true either—I’ll deal with this more later; for now, I’ll make the case that the story of Jonah properly fits into the genre of a parable.

Aside from being swallowed by a giant fish, the other striking portion of this story is Jonah’s reaction to God’s call, and the dramatic struggle which ensues. What kind of prophet behaves like this? And if Jonah is determined to respond with such recalcitrance, why doesn’t God simply get someone else? There appears to be much more going on in this story than meets the eye. Let’s look at all the evidence.

One of the most notably missing elements within the book are names and dates. The “king of Ninevah” has no name, and, equally importantly, no dates of reign. This is really unheard of in any of the historical/prophetic books in the OT. Typically, those books are rife with names and dates of various kings and prophets. Not so in Jonah, and that is odd for an allegedly historical account.

Let me be clear, I do think that it can be reasonably demonstrated that Jonah was a real person who did act as a prophet. Now, some might think, “Well, of course he was.” However, if we are going to objectively determine the historical context and purpose of the book of Jonah, we must be careful in what assumptions we make. For instance, it is much more difficult to reasonably argue that Job was a real person, because there is no external evidence to support it one way or the other, so it is hard to make dogmatic pronouncements on it [NB: There are other scriptures that refer to Job, but 1) they are not external evidence; 2) even as internal evidence, they are not the same type of historical reference as Kings is with Jonah. Again, I am referring to objective types of evidence.]. With Jonah, though, we do have some clues. Jonah 1:1 refers to Jonah as the “son of Amittai”, and 2 Kings 14: 25 also refers to “Jonah the son of Amittai” within a context which was clearly meant to be historical.

2 Kings 14 refers to King Jeroboam restoring the “border of Israel from the entrance of Hamath as far as the Sea of the Arabah, according to the word of the LORD, the God of Israel, which He spoke through His servant Jonah the son of Amittai, the prophet.” Interestingly, the book of Jonah—that we have—does not contain this prophesy. Jonah probably did give such a prophesy, but it was not recorded, or that book was lost.

Even Ninevah itself is historically perplexing in the context of the book of Jonah. Ninevah at the time of 2 Kings 14 was not a great city, as the book of Jonah refers to it. Ninevah was not the capital of Assyria until the seventh century–quite a while after 2 Kings 14. By itself, this is not proof of anything, because referring to a city as “great” is subjective, but it does seem anachronistic. Another quirk is the reference to the city of Joppa, which would not have been the logical choice for Jonah to go to as a port city. Joppa, at that time, was in Philistine hands, and Tyre actually would have been much closer. Again, it’s not vital as a historical detail, if the history is not really the point of the book. Finally, on the issue of cities, Tarshish, the city Jonah tries to flee to, is symbolically significant for a parable, because it represented the “other side of the world” at that time–fitting for someone trying to flee God.

Hyperbole is one of the main elements of this story. The word “great” appears an inordinate amount of times in various descriptions. One of the most obvious, and problematic historically, is the description of the city itself. It states that the city was a “three days’ walk across,” which is approximately 60 miles. Either Jonah was a very slow walker, or this city was larger than many modern cities (and, no, I don’t think you can argue that it refers to how long it took him to preach through Ninevah). Excavations of Ninevah give a circumference of 7 and 3/4 miles–nowhere near a three days walk. Some Bible dictionaries state that the reference could be to a larger collection of cities in the area. This is possible, but in the context of the rest of the story, it is rather speculative. Another example of the use of hyperbole is after the city repents, the king orders everyone–including the animals!–to dress in sackcloths. Why? To exaggerate the point of repentance—the satirical humor would have been evident to ancient readers.

Now, for the whale or fish. You can find a lot of ink, both actual and virtual, spilled on this subject. This seems an unnecessary complication. For a man to survive three days in the belly of anything would require a miracle. It’s possible it was a miracle, but is that really the point? Christians tend to be somewhat fickle about their miracles: some we just take at face value, and others we make elaborate attempts to “explain” in naturalistic terms or matters of timing such as the plagues, the Red Sea crossing, Sodom and Gomorrah’s destruction, etc. Which miracles get which treatment?

Jesus’ reference to the sign of Jonah—being three days in the belly of the whale—means that he understood this book as a parable. We make it a major point to tell other Christians about the first verse of Revelation stating that it is a book of signs—not literal events. Jesus’ reference is to the significance of the sign of the whale, not the event of the whale.

So what is the point of the book of Jonah, and the whale and these other historical incongruities?

The book of Jonah is a satirical parable criticizing the nation of Israel for its exclusivist and bigoted attitude towards other peoples.

Jonah, by the tradition of 2 Kings 14, was respected as a worthy prophet, but in this story, he comes to symbolize all that had begun to go wrong about the nation of Israel. Jonah is portrayed as disobedient, obstinate, and bigoted. The sailors on the boat—crying to their various gods (an obvious comparison)—show more fear of God than Jonah does. He claims that he worships the God of the land and sea: how, then, did he expect to escape him? When he is finally thrown overboard, he is swallowed by a fish for three days; once again, the satirical humor of this situation—it’s humiliating preposterousness—would not have been lost on the book’s readers. The God of the sea hand delivers Jonah by a fish and vomits him onto the land to complete his mission. Jonah is seemingly humbled by the experience, as evidenced by his prayer in the belly of the whale, but apparently not changed in his attitude of scorn for other peoples.

The moral lesson to be gained from this book is dramatically brought out in the last chapter. At the start of chapter 3, Jonah, astoundingly, chastises God for the Ninevites’ repentance! Remember how readily the Ninevites repented?—even the animals—this fact galls Jonah. He even quotes Exodus 34:6—about God being compassionate and gracious, slow to anger—as the justfication for why he fled, as if he did so to save God from himself!—and his lack of self-control in showing mercy.

The final nail in Jonah’s coffin is the incident of the plant. While Jonah sits outside the city pouting and waiting for a brimstone show, God provides a shade plant. Jonah is ecstatic. Then, God takes it away and Jonah wishes for death he is so vexed. At this point, the story reaches its moral climax: God marvels at Jonah’s lament over a worthless plant, and his callousness towards fellow human beings. The fact that this story ends with a moralistic, rhetorical question should make it obvious that it was never intended to act a documentary. Jonah, as a character, represents all that is wrong in the exclusivist attitude of the Israelites. Incidentally, why Jonah—why not some other prophet? One reason could be his name, which means “dove”—a symbol of compliance and peace. The irony is remarkable.

Finally, Jesus uses two specific incidences from this story to create a parallel lesson. First, as already noted, is the reference to the sign of Jonah and second, is the incident of being asleep in a boat during a storm. Jesus uses these references to rehabilitate the small-minded bigotry of Jonah towards outsiders into a wonderful symbol of inclusiveness: who was Jesus criticized for meeting with?—the publicans and sinners—the ultimate outsiders in Jewish society at that time. Jesus became the Jonah who would lead all mankind back to God, and he foreshadowed Paul’s inclusiveness of the other outsiders: Gentiles.

So what is the broader significance of these points? Well, consider how many other portions of the Bible contain difficult to understand events, stories, etc., and how often these passages are misread according to genre. For instance, the creation account in Genesis is misread by fundamentalists as literal 24 hour days; on the other hand, it is completely dismissed by many scientists, because they do not understand the genre either. The Genesis creation is primarily an account demonstrating the sovereignty of a single God, as opposed to multiple Gods. Without this context, the significance would be missed; it really should not be read as a scientific account, nor a historical account, but as a theological account. This is also evidenced by the fact that Genesis 2 and 3 represent (on contextual and linguistic evidence) a separate account of creation that is intended to, again, present a theological explanation of man’s place in creation, the role of women, and the origin of sin. The fact that Christians and scientists argue so vehemently about the scientific merits of Genesis 1, 2, and 3 shows that neither side has fully considered the historical, cultural, and literary context of these accounts.

Consider also the account of the flood. A literal reading forces one to accept a world-wide flood which is scientifically impossible and completely lacking in geological evidence. Internal linguistic evidence makes it clear that the accounts of Genesis 6, 7, and 8 are actually two different accounts edited together into one, and that they represent a theological reinterpretation of an event so historically dramatic, that hundreds of other cultures have a shared memory of this event, as evidenced by the numerous versions of the flood in various cultures—all with overlapping elements to the story: a world-wide deluge, a favored family who were forewarned, the wickedness of mankind as the cause, and a boat of some kind. Again, rather than searching the mountains of Turkey for an actual ark, and wrangling with scientists, one’s time would be better spent trying to understand the cultural and theological significance that this event represented for ancient cultures—Israel’s in particular—and what historical evidence exists to explain this shared memory.

Finally, what of the readings of Israel’s history in the takeover of Canaan? What about the disturbing accounts of slaughter perpetrated by the Israelites with God’s alleged command and blessing? While these are often explained as demonstrations of God’s justice, and rightfully executed due to sin, this explanation fails to account for the inconsistent application. For instance, in Duet. 2:34 it states that at the battle Jahaz, “we captured all his cities at that time and utterly destroyed the men, women and children of every city. We left no survivor.” Setting aside for a moment the difficult ethical questions this action raises, consider first of all that this execution of justice was unevenly distributed. In Numbers 31:17-18, “Now therefore, kill every male among the little ones, and kill every woman who has known man intimately. But all the girls who have not known man intimately, spare for yourselves.”

Why were these children spared in this case? If it is a matter of justice, a matter of sin reaching to the full, why not kill them all as well? The context is clear—the virgins were kept for procreation. Violent destruction of one’s enemies was often par for the course in ancient societies. Israel was often no different from its neighbors in this respect. However, these accounts should most likely be understood as hyperbole, rather than disturbing endorsement of genocide on God’s behalf.

I have been increasingly intrigued by the notion that the Bible should be viewed monolithically—with one over-arching rule of interpretation. Most simply, this one rule is described by the phrase: divinely inspired and infallible. One is often asked, “Are you a Bible-believing Christian?” The implication is that if you do not see the Bible in the same way as that person, you are not a true Christian—this happens frequently at the fairbooth. This fairly modern notion (really since the time of Martin Luther) has lead to the dismaying division of Christianity into a variety of factions. Unfortunately, the majority of Christians do not fully grasp the implications of this rule. Syllogistically, it can be stated over-simply as:

• The Bible is the inspired and infallible word of God.
• I understand the Bible.
• Therefore, I am inspired and infallible in my understanding.

As I said, this is arguing to the absurd, but it is practically true. All major choices of belief have become bi-modal: you are either a person of faith or atheism, the Bible or science—make your choice. I am astounded with what confidence people who have no expertise in science on the hand, nor expertise in theology on the other hand, will easily dismiss one another as well as large bodies of evidence and insight (both spiritual and scientific), because it does not conform to their view of the Bible, or conversely, does not conform to their philosophy of knowledge.

The claim that the Bible is the inspired and infallible word of God is a remarkable claim in its breadth and depth. In fact, if I were to ask how many people here believed that claim, I would imagine almost—if not all—hands going up. Yet, if I asked how many have read the entire Bible, several hands would probably drop. That’s an interesting claim to make when one has not read the evidence. Further still, of those who have read the entire book, how many understand the entire book—probably no one. And yet, the claim is still made. For me, it gives me great pause to make claims beyond my ken.

Viewing the Bible in this forced choice manner wipes away the rich history and variety of perspectives that are evident throughout the Bible, and leads one to try and defend 24 hour creative days, or hundreds of thousands of animal species crowded onto a boat cared for by only eight people, or a God who promotes the slaughter of innocent children.

If we are to provide an understanding of God that allows us to live strongly in the face of modern challenges and viewpoints, particularly for our young people, we must engage these arguments—not dismiss them out-of-hand with uninformed disdain—or use outdated arguments that no longer apply. The Bible has stood the test of time as a document of faith, wisdom, and insight because it was viewed as a living testament to the struggles of faith and God’s workings with and through imperfect people—not merely a textbook.

The books of the Bible do sing an inspired melody, one that promulgates justice and hope for all mankind, but I believe that those books sing that melody as a chorus, not a solo.