Lecture 9

Lecture 9

[THE TEXT] VERSE 5. So Jonah went out of the city, and sat on the east side of the city, and made himself a booth there, and sat under it in the shadow, till he might see what would become of the city.

[Calvin] Here it may be doubted whether Jonah waited until the forty days had expired, or whether he went out beforehand. For if we say that he went out of the city before the fortieth day, another question arises: how could he know what should afterward come to the city? For as yet we see that he was not instructed of this by any oracle — rather, the words we read here sound otherwise: that it was made known to him by the very outcome and issue of the matter, that God had delivered the city from destruction. For he said, in the last lecture, that God repented of the word he had spoken, and did not do it. It appears, therefore, that Jonah went out of the city only after the forty days were fully past.

But now there arises a contrary question: what need had he to sit near the city, seeing it was already evident that either God’s determination had changed, or at least that the sentence he had uttered had been altered? He ought not, then, still to sit by the city as though he yet doubted.

But I willingly accept this conjecture — that Jonah departed and went out of the city after the fortieth day — and the words seem to lead us to this. As touching the question of why he still doubted what would become of the city, seeing that he saw the time already expired and past, the answer is easy. For although the forty days were past, Jonah, notwithstanding, remained hard pressed in mind, because he could not fully persuade himself that the very saying which he had uttered at God’s own commandment should come to nothing and take no effect. I do not doubt, therefore, that this thought troubled him, as he reasoned thus with himself:

“Thou hast pronounced nothing rashly. Now how can it be that the thing which God willed to be published in his own name and by his own commandment should now come to nothing, and that the outcome should not correspond to it?” Since, therefore, Jonah had regard to the commandment of God, he could not straightway rid himself of all this perplexity. This, therefore, was the reason why he still waited beyond the appointed time, as though the matter were still in doubt.

But now, that the matter may be made plainer, we must note that the counsel of God was more hidden than Jonah could understand, even in the very matters of his own calling. For God, when he threatened destruction to the Ninevites, spoke conditionally — for what would have been the purpose of the word, unless that condition were attached to it: that if the Ninevites repented, they should be spared? There would have been no need of a prophet at all, but that God intended, by this means, to provide for their safety — for God could, without any prophet, have executed that condemnation which the Ninevites had deserved.

If any man should reply that a preacher was sent to them so that they might be the more inexcusable, this would be a very cold argument — for God had executed all his other punishments upon profane nations without any such prior warning. For it was the peculiar gift of the Church that the prophets denounced the punishments that were at hand — but as concerning other peoples, God, by the very event itself, declared himself their judge, without sending them any prophets to warn them beforehand.

Therefore, as touching the counsel of God, when he commanded the Ninevites to be terrified by that so precise a preaching, a condition was surely included. But Jonah was too literal a teacher, if I may so speak —because he did not fully grasp what he ought, namely, that there was still room for repentance, and that the city should be spared if the Ninevites turned from their wickedness. Since, then, Jonah had grasped but half the matter, it is no marvel that he remained of a doubtful mind, and dared not yet determine what would come to pass — God had not revealed to him what he intended to do, for Jonah had nothing before his eyes but the immediate outcome of his own preaching. Now let us proceed.

[The Text] Verse 6. And the Lord God prepared a gourd, and made it come up over Jonah, that it might be a shadow over his head, to deliver him from his grief — and Jonah was exceedingly glad of the gourd.

Verse 7. But God prepared a worm when the morning rose the next day, and it smote the plant, so that it withered.

Verse 8. And it came to pass, when the sun did arise, that God prepared a vehement east wind; and the sun beat upon the head of Jonah, so that he fainted, and wished in his heart that he might die, and said: It is better for me to die than to live.

[Calvin] Before I come to touch the matter itself, I will say a few words concerning the Hebrew word kikayon, for there was in times past no small controversy over this word. Some read it “a gourd”; others prefer to read it “a cucumber” — since guesses and conjectures are free enough in matters obscure and uncertain. But the first translation was the one generally received.

Augustine says that a disturbance arose in a certain church when the bishop read out Jerome’s new rendering, where he translated the word as “ivy.” But certainly those men were rash and foolish who were so offended over so trifling a matter, for they ought rather to have diligently enquired which translation was the better and truer one. Augustine, too, did not behave very wisely in this matter, for such a superstitious attachment took hold of him that he would not have the common translation of the Old Testament altered. He was content that Jerome had translated the New Testament out of the Greek, but he would not have the Old Testament meddled with — because there was a suspicion regarding the Jews, that, being always deadly enemies of the faith, they might have set about to corrupt the whole of the Law and the Prophets. Since, therefore, there was this secret suspicion of Jewish tampering, Augustine preferred, for that reason, to keep to the common translation.

Jerome likewise relates that he himself was brought before the authorities at Rome because he had rendered “ivy” instead of “gourd” — but Augustine answered him too sharply, and almost as an enemy. And very bitterly did Jerome, in turn, inveigh against one Cornelius (I know not who he was) and another, Asinius Pollio, who had at Rome accused him almost of sacrilege for having altered this passage. But I do not excuse them here, if they stubbornly refused what was, in fact, probable.

But as touching the matter itself, I would rather, in this place, leave it as either “gourd” or “cucumber,” than stir up any further trouble over a thing of so little consequence. Jerome says that it is not ivy at all, but a kind of small tree, which grows everywhere in Syria. He says that this small tree is held up by its own stalk, which cannot be said of ivy — for ivy, unless it clings to a wall or a tree, only creeps along the ground; it could not, therefore, have been ivy, and so he thought it wrong to translate it so.

He excuses his choice by saying that, had he simply given the Hebrew name untranslated, many readers would have imagined it to be some kind of beast or serpent — he wished, therefore, to set down some known name instead. But he might just as easily have raised many doubts of his own, such as this: how could “ivy” have grown up over the head of Jonah, and given him shade, in so short a time? Now I marvel that Jerome, in one place, says that this kind of tree was called, in his own time, kikion in the Syriac tongue, and yet, in another place — in his commentaries — he says it was called, in that same tongue, elkeroa, a word quite different from kikion. And when he answers Augustine, I do not doubt that he was mocking him, for he knew that Augustine did not know Hebrew, and so he jests with him as with a child on account of his ignorance of that tongue. He seems, on the spur of the moment, to have invented some new word for his own convenience, and I do not doubt that he devised it hastily, simply to make some resemblance between the words kikayon and kikion.

But however the matter stands — whether it were a gourd, or some small tree — it is not worth contending greatly over how it might have grown so quickly to such a size. Jerome says it has broad leaves, and grows to the size of a vine branch. Be it so — but such a plant does not spring up in one day, nor in two, nor even in three. It must, therefore, have been something extraordinary — for neither ivy, nor a gourd, nor any small sprout, nor any other plant, could grow so quickly as to cover the head of Jonah. Nor did this one plant alone shade Jonah’s head — it is rather likely that this was added to the booth which he had already made for himself. Jonah, then, did not shelter himself under this plant alone, but, when he could not sufficiently defend himself from the heat of the sun by the booth alone, he was given this further help. God, therefore, added this small plant to the shade of the booth, that Jonah might thereby be refreshed — for we know that, in those regions, the sun burns fiercely, and this, moreover, was an extraordinary heat, as we shall see.

This is what I intended to say concerning the word “ivy,” and I have spent longer on it than I had planned — but because there was such wrangling over that word in times past, I thought it worthwhile to run through those points which might satisfy even the more curious reader.

Now I come to the matter itself. Jonah declares that a gourd, or cucumber, or ivy, was “prepared” by the Lord. There is no doubt that, contrary to the usual course of nature, this plant suddenly sprang up so as to cover Jonah’s booth — this is my judgement. But we know that, as often as God works contrary to the ordinary course of nature, he still, in a sense, comes back to nature itself. This is not always the case, but we shall find, for the most part, that God so works that he exceeds the course of nature, and yet does not depart from it entirely — even as when, in the desert, he would gather together a great heap of quails and give flesh to his people, he raised up an east wind. How often have winds blown, and yet never brought together such a multitude of birds? This, therefore, was a miracle — yet God did not wholly set aside the ordinary means of nature, for he made use of the wind, even though that wind could not, by its own natural power, have brought those birds with it.

So, in this place, I do not doubt that God chose a plant which could quickly grow to such a height, and yet, in causing it to do so, went beyond the accustomed course of nature. In this sense, therefore, it is said that God “prepared” the kikayon, and made it grow up over Jonah’s head, that it might be a shade for his head, and deliver him from his discomfort. But that afterward it is said that “a worm was prepared” — here also we see that even those things which seem to happen by fortune or chance are, notwithstanding, governed by the secret providence of God.

If any man should say that this shows, not what commonly happens, but only what was done on this one occasion — I answer that although God, at that time, would set forth a notable and memorable example, yet this remains perpetually true: that even the very bites of worms are governed by the will and determination of God, so that neither plant nor tree can wither without his will — even as Christ says that not even two sparrows fall to the ground without the decree of the Father. And thus much as touching the worm.

Now, whereas it is afterward added that, “when the sun arose the next day, a wind was prepared” — hereby also we gather that the winds do not arise of their own accord, or by chance, but are raised up by God. There are, indeed, causes to be found in nature why the air is sometimes calm, and sometimes disturbed by winds — but all these intermediate causes are governed by the counsel and wisdom of God, so that it always remains true that nature is not some blind, random motion, but has, at all times, a law prescribed to it by the will of God. God, therefore, governs by his wisdom and hand whatsoever comes to pass. The only difference is this: that those works of his which follow their common course bear the name of “nature,” while his miracles — when God alters the accustomed course — do not retain the name of nature, though they still proceed from God as their author.

Therefore, as concerning this wind, it is to be noted that this was no ordinary or common wind — and yet the ordinary winds are no less raised daily by the providence of God than was this wind of which Jonah here speaks; God, in this case, simply worked otherwise than by the accustomed course of nature, as they say — though, daily, he ordinarily keeps a continual and steady rule in the order of nature.

Now we must see why all this discourse is set down. Jonah confesses that he greatly rejoiced when he was sheltered from the extreme heat of the sun; and when the plant died and withered, he was struck with such great sorrow that he desired to die. There is nothing superfluous here, for Jonah, both in his joy and in his sorrow, shows how tender and prone he is to either extreme — he confesses his own delicacy and softness, both when he says that he was exceedingly glad, and again when he says that he took such great grief over the dead plant that, out of loathing for his own life, he desired death. There is here, implicitly, a free confession of his own weakness — for Jonah might more simply have noted his joy alone, without mentioning his sorrow at all. But he plainly expressed his excess in both feelings, so that we might know that he was carried away by his passions —so that, in the smallest matters, he was either too angry, or, being puffed up with joy, kept no proper measure in that either. And thus much, both of his joy and his sorrow.

Now, in that he says he “prayed” — as he said a little before — he uses only that Hebrew word which signifies “to wish.” “He wished,” he says, “in his heart, that he might die.” It is credible, therefore, that Jonah was so overwhelmed with sorrow that he no longer lifted up his mind unto God at all — and yet we see that he was not, for all that, forsaken or uncared for by God. Now it follows immediately.

[The Text] Verse 9. And God said to Jonah: Doest thou well to be angry for the gourd? And he said: I do well to be angry, even unto death.

[Calvin] Here we see how God, though he kept himself hidden for a time, did not, for all that, forsake his servant — even as he often looks back upon us, that is, while we think he has forgotten us, he yet marks what happens to us, so that he may succour us in due time. And so, often, when we are on the point of falling, he withdraws us and sets us upright again, before we even suspect that he is near us. Such was the case here, when he began to speak to Jonah — for, as we have said, grief had so choked the mind of the holy prophet that he could no longer lift himself up unto God. He now desired, within himself, to die — and yet God does not forsake him. This is a rare example, and a display of the inestimable mercy which God grants to his people, even when they cast themselves down headlong — even as Jonah here rushes into despair, and takes no care for any remedy.

But God did not wait until he was sought, but forestalled that miserable Jonah — yea, even the very destruction which he had begun to bring upon himself — saying: “Doest thou well to be so angry for the gourd?” As if he should say that Jonah was too vehemently troubled and disquieted over so small a matter.

And this manner of speaking is always to be noted, as we treated at length yesterday — because God does not simply chide Jonah merely for taking it grievously that the gourd had withered. For what, then? Forsooth, it is because he was angry — for in anger there is always excess; since, therefore, Jonah raged without any measure or moderation, God rightly chastises in him this great vice.

Well — I will not now repeat what I said yesterday, how the fault was made the greater, because Jonah not only murmured over the loss of the plant, but also gave himself over wholly, boiling with anger beyond measure — a thing which Jonah’s own answer confirms, when he says: “I do well to be angry, even unto death.” Here we see how boldly the holy prophet repels that very admonition of God, whereby he ought rather to have been recalled to a better frame of mind. He is not ignorant that it is God who speaks — why, then, is he not immediately struck with fear? Why is he not moved by the authority of the one speaking, so as at once to lay down that cruelty of mind?

But certainly this is how it always is, once men’s minds have been blinded by some perverse passion — although the Lord thunder or send lightning from heaven, they will not hear; or, at the very least, they will not cease from running violently on, as Jonah does here. Seeing, therefore, such an example of stubbornness in so holy a man, how much more ought each of us to fear? Let us, therefore, learn betimes to restrain and quench our passions, and to bridle them from the very beginning, lest, if they be allowed to burst out unchecked for any length of time, we too become, even to the last hour, obstinate and unreformable.

“I do well,” says Jonah, “to be angry, even unto death.” God had objected to his servant Jonah only the vice of anger — but now Jonah goes so far in his own madness as to claim that even despair is without sin: “I,” he says, “do not offend, even though I despair — yea, even though, in a raging fury, I give myself over to death, yet I do not offend.”

Who would have said that such a thing could have come to pass, or been found, in that holy prophet? But by this so notable an example we are warned what furious, brutish creatures the passions of our flesh are. Nothing, therefore, is better than to restrain them before they gather more strength than they ought — for whenever a man has cherished his sins, this stubbornness and obstinacy will always follow. But to be so wrathful or angry, even unto death, is so to loathe life that we, of our own accord, give ourselves over unto death. Yet it was not Jonah’s purpose actually to kill himself — but although he refrained from such outright violence, he nevertheless, with a settled mind, worked toward his own death, because he did not submit himself unto God, but was carried away by a blind passion or impulse. Now it follows.

[The Text] Verse 10. And the Lord said: Thou hast had pity on the gourd, for which thou hast not laboured, neither made it grow, which came up in a night, and perished in a night.

Verse 11. And should not I spare Nineveh, that great city, in which are more than six score thousand persons that cannot discern between their right hand and their left, and also much cattle?

[Calvin] Here God reveals for what purpose he had suddenly brought up the gourd, and then caused it to perish and wither away by the biting of the worm — namely, that Jonah might learn how unnaturally he had behaved toward the Ninevites. And although we see that the holy prophet fell into so horrible a passion, yet, in a manner, God, having gently mocked him, admonished him of his folly. For, under the figure of the gourd, he showed how ungently Jonah had desired the destruction of so populous a city as Nineveh.

But this comparison may seem, in some respects, not entirely fitting —for Jonah did not grieve for the gourd itself, but had regard only for himself; and therefore he took it grievously that the comfort in which he delighted had been taken from him. Since, therefore, it was his own personal discomfort that provoked Jonah to anger, the comparison may seem poorly applied, when God reasons thus: “Thou wouldst have the gourd pitied —and should not I spare this great city?” For, in truth, he had no real regard for the gourd itself — had every gourd in the world withered, he would never have been troubled by any sorrow over it — but because he felt himself in extreme discomfort, being scorched by the excessive heat of the sun, he was, for that reason, angry.

I answer that, although Jonah’s concern was, privately, only for himself, yet this comparison agrees very well indeed — for God keeps men to the use for which he has appointed them. Jonah grieved over the loss of the gourd precisely because he was thereby deprived of its shade. But God does not create men in vain, and therefore it is no marvel that he should wish them to be preserved.

We see, therefore, that Jonah was fittingly taught, by this figure, how unkindly he had dealt with the Ninevites. For he himself was but one man alone — and yet, while he had so great a regard for himself and for the gourd alone, how could he cast off all care for so great and populous a city? Ought it not to have come into his mind that it is no marvel if God has care for so many thousands of men, being their Father and maker? For although the Ninevites were estranged from God, yet, inasmuch as they were men, God, being wholly the Father of all mankind, acknowledged them as his own, at the very least to this extent — that they might live, and enjoy the other comforts of this earthly life.

Now, therefore, we understand the reason for this comparison: “Thou,” says God, “wilt pity the gourd — and should not I pity this great city?” By this it appears how frivolous is that notion of Jerome’s, that Jonah was not angry over the sparing of the city, but rather because he foresaw that his own nation would perish as a result of the conversion of the Ninevites. For the Lord here again repeats that Jonah’s mind was set otherwise — namely, that he took it grievously that the city should be delivered from destruction. And it is the less tolerable that Jerome should thus excuse Jonah, seeing that Jonah himself plainly and boldly answers God that he does no wrong in being angry, even unto death. That fellow surely dares, without any shame, notwithstanding all this, to lend a false colour, so that he might excuse such a shameful stubbornness.

But let it suffice us to hold to, and understand, the plain and true sense of the prophet’s meaning. For here, under the person of God, Jonah declares that his own cruelty was rightly condemned, in that he so eagerly wished for the destruction of that populous city. The parts of this comparison are also to be marked, when he says: “Thou hast pitied” — there is, in the pronoun “thou,” an emphasis, or force. For God compares himself with Jonah, as if to say: “Who art thou? Certainly, a mortal man is not so naturally prone to mercy and pity as I am. Thou allowest thyself this rule —that thou wilt insist on pitying the gourd — thou, who art made of clay, wouldst do this. Now this gourd,” he says, “is not thy own handiwork —thou hast not laboured for it, that is, it did not come forth by thy own tilling or labour; again, thou didst not make it grow, or bring it up out of the earth; thirdly, it was but the growth of a single night, and in a single night it perished — it was but a small, withering plant. Therefore, if thou consider the nature of the gourd, or if thou consider thyself, and add together all these other circumstances, there is no cause for thee to be angry. And now I, who am God, in whose hand are all things — should not I have pity? I, whose continual property it is to bear mercifully with men, and to suffer them, even though they be worthy of destruction — should not I have pity? Again, this is a great city” — for here there is now no dealing merely with a plant, but with a vast multitude of people.

Lastly: “in which there are,” he says, “a hundred and twenty thousand persons who cannot discern between their right hand and their left hand.” Well — now we see how emphatic each part of this comparison is. But although God’s purpose was to reprove the foolish and perverse grief of Jonah, yet here we may gather a general doctrine, if we reason thus: we ourselves are moved to pity one another, even though we are wicked and cruel persons — if, therefore, by a certain secret instinct, mortal men are thus prone to pity, what is not to be hoped for from the incomprehensible goodness of God, who is both our Father and the maker of the whole world, and the fountain of goodness and mercy? Should not he have pity on us?

Now, as touching the number — here Jonah sets down twelve times ten thousand persons, which is a hundred and twenty thousand, as we have already said. Here God shows how fatherly a care he takes for mankind. Each one of us is nourished by him with a singular, individual care — but here he sets before us this great number, that it may the more evidently appear that he has such great regard for mankind that he does not rashly thunder out his vengeance against any one people.

And where he adds that they could not discern between their right hand and their left, I do not doubt that this refers to the young age of these particular persons — an opinion which is also almost universally received. Nevertheless, one commentator was afraid of making the city seem too large if he supposed that whole number to consist only of infants, and therefore includes in that number, taken together, old men, men of middle age, and infants alike, saying that they “could not discern between their right hand and their left” because they had not been instructed in the school of God, nor perceived the difference between good and evil — as we know that unbelievers wander in their own errors. But this interpretation is too much strained, and there is, besides, no good reason for this device — for we know that this city was not merely comparable to other great cities, such as are found today in Europe, but even surpassed those which are, at this day, the most prominent. We know that Paris alone holds more than four hundred thousand souls, and the like is true of other cities. Therefore I reject that notion, that Jonah here means, by that number, all the Ninevites without distinction — for God would rather here declare that, although there was most just cause why he should utterly destroy that city, there were yet other reasons which might mitigate so terrible a punishment — namely, that there were, at that time, many infants there, who had not yet, by their own offences, deserved such destruction.

God, therefore, here declares to Jonah how cruelly he had been carried away by his zeal — although that zeal, as was said, arose from a good beginning, yet Jonah was carried away by too violent an impulse. This God shows, in that he spared so many innocent infants. He also adds, along with the infants, the dumb beasts — for certainly oxen excel, and are of greater worth, than mere plants. If Jonah, therefore, rightly grieved over one small withered plant, certainly it would be far more harsh and cruel that so many innocent creatures should perish.

Therefore, we see how fittingly all things agree with this comparison —that Jonah might be ashamed and grieved at his own foolishness, in that he would seem so to run ahead of the secret determination of God, and govern himself, in a manner, by his own will — refusing to spare the Ninevites, even though they had striven to forestall God’s vengeance and judgement by true repentance. Let him, therefore, pray against this sin.

[The Prayer]

Grant, O almighty God, seeing that thou hast, in so many ways, testified and declared — and dost daily and evidently manifest to us — how dear and precious mankind is to thee; and seeing that we daily enjoy so many notable proofs and evidences both of thy goodness and thy mercy: grant, I say, that we may learn to rest wholly upon that goodness of thine, whereof thou showest us so many tokens and examples, and which thou vouchsafest continually to make known to us — so that we may not only pass through this earthly and transient course, but also, with reverent fear, aspire unto the hope of that blessed and heavenly life which is laid up and reserved for us in heaven, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

THE END.