Jonah’s
Dilemma
The sun is already beginning to set in the western
sky. As the precious final minutes of the holiest day of the year slip away, we
reach one of its celebrated high points – the haftorah reading which relates
the story of Jonah and the whale.
This famous yet thoroughly baffling story opens
with Hashem sending Jonah as a divine messenger to the huge Assyrian metropolis
of Ninveh. The city had descended to a level of decadence that was simply
intolerable, and destruction was imminent. Only immediate repentance would
bring about a reprieve. Jonah, however, does not want to undertake this
mission, and he attempts to flee from Hashem. He books passage on a ship which
will carry him far away from Ninveh, but a sudden storm threatens to tear the
ship apart. The sailors cast lots, and Jonah is tossed into the sea, where he
is swallowed by a whale.
From the belly of the whale, Jonah cries out to
Hashem in anguish and despair and pleads for deliverance. Hashem answers
Jonah’s prayer. The whale spits him out onto the shore, and he sets off at once
for Ninveh, where his message is greeted with consternation. The people don
sackcloth and repent, and the city is spared.
The obvious question leaps at us from the
page: Jonah was undoubtedly a very holy man if Hashem granted him the gift of
prophecy. How then did he have the effrontery to refuse to serve as the
messenger of Heaven?
Our Sages tell us that Jonah was concerned for
the welfare of the Jewish people who, at that time, were also guilty of
grievous sins in spite of the repeated warnings of the great prophets. They
explain Jonah feared the people of evil Ninveh, a nation of degenerate pagans,
would heed his prophetic warning and repent, causing the Jewish people, the
custodians of the Torah, to suffer by comparison. They would stand indicted
before the bar of Heavenly justice with nothing to say in their own defense.
Therefore, Jonah chose to flee rather than bring down retribution on the heads
of his people.
But the questions still remain: Did Jonah think he
could frustrate the divine plan by fleeing on a ship? Did he think Hashem would
find no other way to offer Ninveh the option of repentance? And even if he
thought his flight could somehow benefit the Jewish people, what right did he
have to suppress the prophecy entrusted to him?
Furthermore, what lesson are we meant to derive
from this story in the climactic moments of Yom Kippur? Is it only meant to
present us with another example of disaster avoided through timely repentance?
Or is there also a deeper significance in the central theme of the story, which
revolves around Jonah’s attempt to extricate himself from his mission?
The commentators explain that Jonah certainly had
no illusions about thwarting the divine plan. If Hashem wanted to warn Ninveh
that only repentance could save them, He undoubtedly would. However, Jonah had
such an overpowering love for the Jewish people that he could not bear to be
the agent of their misfortune. In desperation, he resolved to flee so that
Hashem’s will would be fulfilled through some other channel. He was fully aware
of the magnitude of his act and the dire consequences he would probably suffer
for his disobedience, but the alternative was unbearable.
Hashem, however, chose not to send a different
messenger to Ninveh. Instead, He sent storms and whales to force Jonah to
return and accept his mission. The message to Jonah was very clear, and it
resonates down through the ages to reach us every Yom Kippur. Jonah had no
right to weigh the pros and cons of obeying Hashem’s command. He did not have
the option of deciding whether or not to obey. If Hashem commanded him to go to
Ninveh, then that was what he was obliged to do, and no amount of
rationalization could change it. A person has to subjugate himself completely to
the divine will, to obey without question, reservation or rationalization.
Hashem undoubtedly knew of Jonah’s love for his people, and if He nevertheless
sent him on his mission, Jonah had no choice but to obey.
In our own lives, we sometimes bend the rules to
suit our convenience. We fall into the trap of “situation ethics,” seeking a
middle ground between our desires and the dictates of our Creator. We
rationalize. We equivocate. We compromise. Like Jonah, we seek to escape the
strictures imposed on us by our innermost conscience. But in actuality, as
Jonah discovered so painfully, it is not for us to make value judgments about
the divine will. Total acceptance may indeed be difficult from time to time,
but overall, it is the only path to spiritual tranquility and fulfillment.
Text Copyright © 2007 by Rabbi Naftali Reich
and Torah.org.
Rabbi Reich is on the faculty of the Ohr Somayach Tanebaum Education Center.
Your
Personal Inner Sanctum
Posted on September 28, 2017 (5778) By Rabbi Berel Wein |
Series: Rabbi Wein | Level: Beginner
Though on Yom Kippur our prayers and thoughts are
directed heavenward, the real Yom Kippur must take place within us. It is far
easier to confess one’s sins and shortcomings to an unseen G-d than to confess
them truly to one’s self. The Torah teaches us that the High Priest of Israel
entered the holy sanctuary – the inner sanctum – of the Temple on Yom Kippur.
The Talmud called that entrance of the Kohein Gadol, the High Priest, as
entering “Lifnai u’lfanim.” This phrase meant entering deep within. The rabbis
of the Talmud were not only referring to the physical entering into the chamber
of the Holy of Holies in the Temple in Jerusalem but they were obliquely
referring to entering our own very most inner chambers of heart, mind and soul.
All of us are bidden on Yom Kippur to enter “Lifnai u’lfanim.” For without true
self-examination and true commitment to self- improvement, Yom Kippur can, G-d
forbid, be an exercise in futility if not even a meaningless charade. That is what the prophet
Isaiah warns us of in the great haftorah of his that we read on the morning of
Yom Kippur: “Is this the fast day that I ask of you? That you should bend your
head to Me like a reed or that you should beat your breast with your fist?” All
such public contrition is meaningless if it is not accompanied by a heartfelt
conviction for self-improvement and for better behavior towards G-d and man
consistent with such convictions and self-analysis.
Yom Kippur allows for such a deep entrance into
one’s inner self. It is a day of abstinence from food and drink and from other
physical activities. It is an escape from the stress and pressures of our
everyday lives and their attendant problems and frustrations. We always are
concerned about others – family, friends, Israel, the world, the economy, etc.
Yom Kippur gives us a chance to be concerned and preoccupied about ourselves –
not in a selfish way but in a meaningful and positive fashion. It is the one
day of the year that we are able to enter deep into ourselves and find meaning
and purpose to our existence. This is not a simple manner. It may very well not
be achieved in one day – even if that one day be the holy day of Yom Kippur.
But Yom Kippur at the very least focuses for us the necessity of attempting to
reach deep within ourselves in order to make our lives more meaningful and
serene. The prophet Isaiah describes evil people as being tossed about in a raging
sea of their desires and frustrations. The Lord wishes us to sail on calm
waters of serenity, belief, commitment and holy behavior. The day of Yom Kippur
can mark the beginning of that journey of tranquility and godly purpose. The
day should not be squandered only in external behavior of piety and contrition.
It should help us reach deep within ourselves to touch and polish our souls and
be the day of repentance and renewal that G-d intended.
Gemar chatima tova.
Rabbi Berel Wein Text Copyright © 2004 by Rabbi Berel Wein and Torah.org
‘Sin…
Don’t Laugh!’
We find ourselves this week in the midst of the
Ten Days of Repentance, the days from Rosh HaShana to Yom Kippur.
An interesting idea – ten days for self-examination, reflection, and (we hope)
self-improvement. But do we understand “repentance?”
The world today almost laughs at “sin” and
“repentance.” Almost? Let me rephrase that: the world does laugh at the whole
idea of “sin.” Part of that is denial – if I laugh at something, I don’t have
to take it seriously. Another part, however, comes from the non-Jewish
conception of sin and repentance – which, because of the society we live in,
has become quite pervasive in Jewish minds.
Many who no longer go to church describe
confession as “going on Sunday to confess what we did Friday, and plan to do
again on Tuesday.” I don’t know if that’s accurate; I’m Jewish. I only know
that this could not be further from the Jewish idea of repentance.
So instead of these terms, let us use
“transgression” and “return,” words which correspond more closely to a Jewish
understanding of these concepts. Indeed, while we may translate “Teshuva”
as repentance, it comes from the infinitive LaShuv: to return.
We know certain things to be right, and others to
be wrong, and we cross the line. We go where we should not have gone – and in
doing so, we move away from G-d. But in His great kindness, He leaves the door
open for us to come back to Him, and restore our connection. That is the
purpose of return – to come back to G-d.
If so, is it not obvious that Teshuva must
happen in our hearts, and not in our mouths? Maimonides, in his codification of
Jewish Law, says this explicitely (Hil. Tshuva 2:3): “One who confesses with
words, but has not decided in his heart to abandon [his transgressions], is
like a person who goes to a ritual bath while holding something unclean in his
hand: immersion in the bath will not help him until he throws the item away!”
Repentance is an activity of the heart – a
decision to change our behavior, and to abandon a path that has led us away
from G-d instead of towards Him. And to make it easier for us, G-d gave us a
certain time of year when He comes close to us, and invites us to go in the
right direction. The Talmud in tractate Rosh HaShana says that the
verse, “Seek out HaShem when He can be found, call upon Him when He is
close” (Isaiah 55:6) refers to these Ten Days. Maimonides also says (2:6) that
“Even though return and crying [over our errors] is always beautiful, during
the ten days between Rosh HaShana and Yom Kippur it is
exceptionally so, and is accepted immediately” – and he refers us again to that
same verse.
It is as if G-d is right here in the neighborhood,
and all we need to do is drop in! It is that easy for us to use this time for a
rebirth, for making new beginnings in the right direction. Should we wake up in
two weeks, feeling as if He left without us? Let’s take advantage of this time
of year, and come away from the season feeling closer to G-d.
Text Copyright © 1995 Rabbi Yaakov Menken and Project Genesis,
Inc.
The author is the Director of Project Genesis.
