Working for Mercy?

sermon by Torin Eikler
Matthew 20: 1-16 Jonah 3:1-4:4

Ahh … the story of Jonah.

Several weeks ago when I took an afternoon to look at the scriptures coming up for this quarter, I have to admit that I was excited that Jonah was on the list. It’s one of my favorite books in the First Testament … and even in the whole bible. And, I know I’m not alone because when I sat down with Cindy to plan hymns for today’s worship, she said it was one of her favorite stories too. I don’t think I would be too far off in saying that it is well-loved among most of us.

And why not, it has all the makings of a great fairy tale – a rebellious hero, an angry god, a monstrous fish, and a long journey with more than a few twists and turns. We hear the tale from the time we are young and we remember it because it’s just a little bit scary, but everyone comes out okay in the end. It’s even been immortalized in the children’s movie Pinocchio where the little wooden boy meets his Geppetto in the belly of a whale and helps him escape. Less well known is the story “The Adventures of Baron Von Munchousen” which I grew up listening to on an LP along with “The Three Little Pigs.” I especially like the end of the story with the bush that “magically” grows to shade Jonah and the worm that comes along and kills the bush overnight with a few well-placed bites.

All in all, it’s a story that we tend to carry with us, and as we grow and mature, the story changes and develops accordingly. Not long ago, in fact, one of the young people in this congregation made a point of asking me about the nature of the beast that swallowed Jonah and how he survived.

A: Do you think Jonah really could have survived if he was eaten like that?
T: Well, whales have really big mouths. So, maybe he just sat on the whale’s tongue.

A: But it doesn’t say it was a whale. It says a big fish.
T: That’s true. It could have been a fish, but at that time, whales were considered fish.

A: Okay, but wouldn’t he have drowned anyway. I mean the fish or the whale or whatever was underwater all that time.
T: Well, when whales have the mouths closed; there is actually a lot of air inside along with the water. You know like in the movie “Finding Nemo” when the fish are in the whale’s mouth, they are kind of in a puddle.

Well, the conversation went on a little longer, but you get the picture. And that’s how it begins for us, raising questions when it doesn’t stand up to the logic of the world we learn about in school. But it doesn’t stop there.

When I was in my three-week orientation for Brethren Volunteer Service we had a bible study almost every morning, and one morning our visiting leader chose Jonah as the subject. That morning, we didn’t talk about the fish/whale controversy or the repentance of Ninevah or even the mercy God showed them (mercy that doesn’t seem to extend to the innocent sailors if you think about it). We talked about Jonah’s effort to run away from God’s calling, and ended up in pairs talking about which projects in the list might be our Ninevah. It was probably the only bible study that I went into eagerly, but I came out of it feeling challenged and full of new questions.

The more we spend time thinking about the story of Jonah, the more questions seem to come up.

Questions about the nature of discipleship – what does God actually require of us? Will we have to go to dangerous places and do things we don’t want to do?

Questions about the nature of God – will we be protected even when we choose against God’s will?

Questions about the world we live in – are the laws of nature set and stable or will God “play around” with nature to make a point?

Questions about the nature of grace - is God vindictive and changeable or is God merciful and slow to anger? Is grace free for all or does grace at least require the worship of Christ?

The piece of the story we heard today answers some of those questions – at least partly, and it brings a few of them to the fore. It doesn’t deal with the “fun” parts of the plot … no ships, no storms, no whales, no miraculous worms, no slinking off in the middle of the night. This is the part that deals with real people and, particularly, with the gritty messy part of Jonah’s humanity and his relationship with God.

It’s the hard part of the story for us because it casts Jonah in a petulant, belligerent light … and in that light, Jonah looks an awful lot like we do.


Have any of you ever been on the interstate, cruising along but only going the speed limit because you are stuck in the middle of a pack of trucks? Finally an opening comes and you move out into the passing lane and you’re relieved to get back up to 71 or 72 (because you know that extra 5 or 6 miles per hour will make all the difference right?). You pass one truck … then two. And all of the sudden, someone else comes flying up behind you in an SUV and sits right on your bumper, honking and flashing the head lights. You think, “Well you can just wait until I’ve passed the next three trucks because I’m not getting over!” But, you can’t keep it up. That sense of relief you felt melts into anxiety, frustration, and anger because that stupid jerk behind you just won’t back off! So, you move over in that almost-too-small space just before the last truck to let the car pass only to discover that about ten other cars have backed up. Then another truck or two join the queue, and you’re stuck in the middle again, fuming at that one speedster who ruined your drive.

Every once in awhile, when that happens to me, I am just pleased as punch to discover, a few miles down the road, that an attentive state trooper has pulled over that very same SUV. A satisfied smile spreads across my face, and I think to myself, “Well, that’s what you get for speeding.” (never mind the fact that the flashing lights in the distance made me hit the brakes so that I didn’t cruise by at the extra fast speed I was hoping would make up for lost time.)

Most of us have little experiences like that from time to time – moments when we feel that injustice has been appropriately redressed. When a reckless driver gets a ticket or when a fellow student is finally caught cheating or when it finally comes to light that one of our leaders lied to us in order to get an unpopular policy pushed through. It feels so good to be the righteous one in those moments whether we really are or not. And, when it doesn’t happen, we grumble about the unfairness of the situation. We get particularly angry when we realize that the powers that be know about the injustice and choose to overlook it or forgive the perpetrator.

It comes as no great surprise, then, that Jonah is angry when Ninevah is spared the wrath of God. They had been living “the good life” while Jonah and all of his friends and family – all of the faithful – had been towing the line and following the commandments. They were the cheating, reckless, unfaithful jerks that everyone wanted to see get what was coming to them. And, they were let off the hook. Even worse, Jonah himself was the one who had to show them the way out. Even though he knew, as we know, that mercy and grace are wonderful things that we all need and that we are supposed to offer to everyone, deep down inside, we all wish that some people would be spared forgiveness and just get what they deserve.

And that’s not even the whole of it. Our fixation on justice and fairness even makes us resentful when people get more than we think they should or, perhaps more accurately, when we don’t get as much as we think we should compared to others. When other people take the credit for something they didn’t have any part in (or perhaps even tried to ruin), it gets our hackles up. And when we do all the work on a group project and everyone gets equal credit, we get frustrated.

That’s what the parable of the vineyard is all about. Everyone who worked on that project got the same credit – no difference between those who worked a full 12-hour day and those who only worked the last couple of hours. It’s not that the amount was unfair or unreasonable. It was the standard wages for day workers. The issue was that not everyone did the same amount of work and so it feels unfair to pay everyone the same amount. Even when we get exactly what we expected – what we normally think is right – we just can’t be happy if other people get more for less.

But that’s not the way God’s grace and mercy work – thank God. It’s not about justice and injustice. It’s not even about what we think we deserve for what we have done. If it really did work that way, either we would all reap the rewards of our living – which is never perfect enough to earn salvation - or we would have to live in fear of a God who really does just sort of spin the wheel and zap whoever loses with the proverbial bolt of lighting.

So, why do we get so angry sometimes or feel so cheated when others receive what we would hope for ourselves? Is it because we still believe the message of our culture – a message born of the “Protestant Work Ethic?” In some part of our selves, do we believe that we get what we deserve for the work we put in? Perhaps we have made our peace with the gift of grace by saying, “Sure grace if free. Of course it is, but once we have it we have to work to keep it. That’s discipleship, right?” Maybe, being bounded, finite people, we just can’t get our heads all the way around the idea of unlimited, unmerited grace. Or maybe just like our Jewish brother we like to see a good stoning coming the way of those who deserve it – as long as it isn’t us.

Yet, God’s mercy and grace are limitless, and they are freely given. They cannot be bought through the sweat of our brow or the work of our souls. There is no condition put on them – no requirement except that we accept them. Everyone is offered the same thing – a gift that is beyond our imagination, a gift that could never be made or earned or purchased. And each of us in our own turn has found the joy and freedom that came when we received that gift with eagerness and gratitude.
So, let us hear the words of our God echoing down the centuries and right into our own lives – “Is it right for you to be angry?” Let us hear those words and embrace the answer so completely that our peevish, belligerent hearts melt with compassion for everyone we meet. Let us accept, once again, the grace that we cannot earn – the merciful grace that frees us from anger and worry so that we can offer the same hope to others and rejoice in what they receive.