Jonah

IN those days there were prophets in Israel. They lived in the desert, beyond the Jordan, in caves and in rude huts made of clay and mats. There were many holy men among them, whose ears had been pierced by the sweetness of God’s voice and whose eyes had been dazzled by the fiery appearance of His angels. They were like the saints to whom in later times the Virgin Mary used to come with eyes melting with tenderness, and who used to perform such astonishing miracles in the desert near Thebes. Theirs was an holy and severe life, made anxious by the sins of the Jews, whose punishment they prophesied in tones of great bitterness and haunting sadness.

Surrounded by gloomy rocks, they beheld visions, and conversed with angels. They shared their meals with the lions of the desert, with such birds and beasts as foxes, gazelles, snakes, mice, and ravens. Many of these were holy beings; more than human, but less than divine, they were obliged to eat, and devoured with shy and reverent looks the food set apart for Jehovah.

It was a life of poverty, of danger, and of glory. In the silence of the desert the prophets drew together in an austere community. Those returning from lands across the Jordan brought back news to the Schools. It was said that Amos of Tekoa had spoken at Bethel; standing in the presence of King Jeroboam, surrounded by the proudest nobles, he had prophesied the doom of Israel. Two angels attended him while he spoke, and collected the drops of moisture which fell from his brow.

Thereafter an earthquake, followed by a drought, destroyed the crops of Israel and Judah.

When Jonah, the prophet, heard this news, he left his hut in Golan, and taking his stick and a gourd filled with water, set his face southward toward the Land of Tob. He walked from dawn to dusk; his thoughts were grave, and his expression serious. As evening fell he found himself beside a little pool in the desert; here he sat down to rest. The sky was green with early night; the evening star, smaller than the moon and silver as a distant sea, sailed above Sharon. Before him lay the desert, heavy with silence, drenched with the cold dew of evening. Jonah shivered, and drew his cloak closer about him.

As he sat there, his head bowed upon his hand, a fox came out of a hole and, seeing Jonah, exclaimed,

“There is the man of God.”

Touched and astonished at this mark of recognition, Jonah offered the little animal some meal with which he had expected to make his own supper. Then the fox lay down beside Jonah and remarked,

“I am not a theologian. So I do not understand the wars of Judah and the other tribes. However, I would like to ask you something. When I go down into my hole, God goes down after me. What I want to know is this: is He a Jew, or a fox?”

Jonah answered as he had been taught in the Schools: “God has the appearance of a man. From His beard, which extends to His feet and is divided into thirteen portions, fall drops of gracious balm; and from His mouth proceed the names of all things. His angels also appear as men, with long white wings, and faces shining with light.” And he gazed at the little animal in a kindly manner.

“Well,” said the fox, “a beard or a tail, that is merely a matter of direction.” So saying, he put his head down between his paws, and fell asleep. Jonah also slept, watched by the stars, and by an angel, who said to him just before dawn:

“Arise, Jonah, and hasten to Bethel. Say to King Jeroboam, ‘Against the insolence of Hamath, Israel shall prevail once again.’”

Jonah immediately awoke, and gave thanks to God. Then he took leave of the fox, who said to him, “I dreamed that God was a raven, and was giving me some sharp pecks with His beak.”

In the gray light of dawn Jonah started toward the hills which guard the Jordan. He breathed the pure air of the desert, sweet with desert flowers, fresh and cold as water; he lifted his face to the western sky, into which night was retreating like a storm; and his heart sang.

“God will redeem Israel through me,” he thought.

At noon he entered the valley of Jezreel, on the other side of the Jordan. There the fig trees were in blossom, and their scent mingled with almonds in the air. At every village he saw roadside altars above which were erected rude copies of the golden bulls of Tyre. The afternoon sun cast sinister shadows behind them, and Jonah averted his face as he went by.

He stayed that night near Joseph’s Well, in the cottage of a poor herdsman. A faint and holy glow illuminated one corner of the kitchen where the prophet lay, while the wide wings of seraphim, like slow birds, beat overhead through the darkness. In the morning the herdsman, who had not slept all night, hurried out to purify himself in the river from such close contact with divinity.

When Jonah arrived at Bethel, he went at once to the house of the High Priest Amaziah. A servant admitted the prophet, dusty with travel, into the presence of his master. And Jonah gazed proudly and without fear at the priest.

Amaziah, High Priest of Israel, was a churchman; therefore he disliked confusion. For that reason also he detested the prophets who he felt were unable to understand the problems of administration. Seated upon a bench of ivory, he gazed wearily at Jonah before addressing him in these terms:

“I do not know your name, but from your gloomy countenance covered with hair, I can see that you are a prophet from Golan, or the Land of Tob. And I suppose that you have come, like all the others, to tell me that God admires Judah more than Israel. In that case I must say to you what I said to Amos: ‘Go south, to Jerusalem, and prophesy in Judah, because what you have to say does not amuse me.’”

Jonah replied simply, “I must speak at Bethel, because that is what God told me to do.”

But he added that he did not intend to prophesy another earthquake, as Amos had done. “What I have to say,” he declared, “concerns Israel, and Hamath in the north.”

At this the High Priest looked pleased. “So,” he said; “well, that is better.” And he regarded Jonah with a kindlier expression.

But presently he burst out again in an exasperated voice: “You prophets do not understand the difficulties of my position. You imagine that because I am High Priest, I should be able to control the forms in which the people of Israel worship the Divinity. Nothing is more improbable, seeing that every one has his own idea of what is truly noble.”

To this outburst Jonah replied, with dignity: “Still, the God of the Jews does not look like a bull, or a little dove. It is a sin to worship such things.”

Amaziah gave utterance to a long sigh. “My son,” he said gently, “I see that you are like all prophets, which is to say that you are impractical. Otherwise you would know that it is impossible not to worship the Divinity in some form or other. And since He refuses to reveal Himself in His proper form, one is left to imagine Him in any form one pleases. That is a great mistake, in my opinion; but it is God’s mistake, not mine. I cannot help it if the inhabitants of Dan, who are mostly farmers, admire the dignified mien of a bull, or if the villagers of Asher, who are lazy and uxorious, choose to worship the Divine Power in the form of a dove.”

“The dove and the bull,” declared Jonah, who remembered what he had studied in the Schools, “belong to the moon and to the sun. God, having created man in His Own image, necessarily has the form of a man. He is bearded; and His face shines with wisdom and benevolence. He also created the animals, but He created them in the image of animals. That is the important thing to remember in dealing with such matters.”

But Amaziah replied that Jonah was an idealist. “You will understand,” he said, “when I tell you that idealism is something to which close attention to the disputes and duties of the Temple does not dispose me. We churchmen are obliged to be practical. The important thing is that there should be uniformity. And that is impossible where one person must be right, and the other wrong. I am not here to help men argue, but to help them agree. Many trees bear fruit upon this earth, my friend; the leaf is different, but a tree is a tree. So let us all be right, or at least as many of us as possible.”

Jonah remained silent and gloomy; he respected the Law, and did not know how to reply to Amaziah. The old priest regarded him in a more genial manner, and continued:

“However, these pastoral matters need not concern you. You are a prophet, not a priest, a messenger, not an interpreter. That is something you prophets could learn to your advantage.

“Tell me what tidings you bear the King. You speak of Hamath, and the Aramæans; is it possible that you know of some conspiracy in the north of which your rulers are ignorant?”

Jonah replied that as far as he knew, the Aramæans were peaceful, and their army was unprepared. “An angel appeared to me in a dream,” he declared. “This angel was more beautiful than I can say, and had long white wings which kept up a slow movement in the air. I could wish that the women of Israel had such wings, which lend to the figure a charm that cannot be described. The beauty of that angel caused my heart to overflow with grief and longing.”

And he remained silent, lost in painful memories. He resumed:

“In a voice of heavenly sweetness I was told to arise, and bidden to say to King Jeroboam, ‘Against the insolence of Hamath, Israel shall prevail once again.’ When I awoke I found on the ground a white feather which shone like snow. I picked it up, and put it beneath my cloak.” And he held out to Amaziah a white feather about a foot long.

“Here is the proof,” he said, “of what I have told you.”

Amaziah reverently received the angelic token, which he put to his nose and carefully tasted with his tongue, before remarking, “It does not surprise me, seeing the marvelous economy of Heaven, that the wings which support the angels should be not unlike those on which the snowy herons sail so majestically above the hills. However, as the king and his nobles might consider this feather a trifle too light to support so august a body as an angel through the air, let me place this sacred relic in the Tabernacle, and give you, instead, the feather of an eagle, which has a more important look. Do not draw back in dismay, my son; in dealing with simple minds, a certain amount of ingenuity is needed. It is a characteristic which has distinguished the Jews in the past even more than their valor. I have only to remind you of David’s treaties with the Philistines, and the manner in which the heroic Jael divorced the head of Sisera from his Canaanite body. It is upon such stratagems as these, added to the irresistible power of the Lord, that the glory of Israel depends.”

He sat for a brief space, his head sunk forward upon his breast in meditation. Presently he said thoughtfully:

“After all, there is nothing like a war to draw together a nation’s diverse elements. The trouble with Israel is that her wars have been so often civil wars. Civil wars are of no value, since they destroy uniformity; they are, besides, inclined to be a little half-hearted, seeing that the vanquished do not expect to be plundered, raped, and murdered with the same methodical energy by their own people as by strangers.”

And he added humbly, “Is it likely that God in His infinite wisdom should see this any less clearly than I do?”

When Jonah had supped on lettuce, olives, and wine, he left his host and went out to walk in the city. The night was cold, and the odor of the streets mingled with the sweet aroma of earth. He filled his lungs with the clear air of the hills, stained by the smoke of fires and the sour smell of wine; he heard about him in the gloom the lazy hum of the city, the faint, sharp chime of voices, far-off cries, the crowing of a cock, the creak of a water-wheel.

He thought, “Here is thy home, O Israel, in the land of thy God.”

And he gazed in silence and with a heart overflowing with reverence at the sky, blue with night, above the roofs of Bethel.

In the morning, pale but confident, he presented himself before the king.

Seated upon a golden throne in his palace of broadstone, his hair and beard glistening with oil, and surrounded by proud and bearded nobles, Jeroboam listened with attention to what the prophet had to say.

Then he asked for the opinion of Amaziah, who stood at the side of the throne. The old priest hesitated a moment, before replying in a grave voice:

“Who am I to question the will of the Almighty? A war against Aram is a holy war, since God Himself desires it. This prophet speaks in a voice of heavenly wisdom. I foresee that your soldiers will rush with impetuous enthusiasm upon a foe by no means prepared to defend himself. I shudder to think of such carnage. However, your commands are mine, O King.”

So saying, he withdrew. Jeroboam then passed around a large feather given him by Jonah as proof of his prophetic mission. A noble who looked after the royal falcons remarked,

“This indeed must be the feather of an angel, for it is larger than that of an eagle, which it favors in color, although it is more divine in appearance.”

The king next asked for the opinion of Ahab, who owned a great deal of land bordering on the country of Aram. This prince, whose beard curled like an Assyrian’s, spoke without hesitation in favor of war. In a dry voice he declared,

“It stands to reason that God would prefer His own people to have the pasture lands which obviously belong to them, according to geography, history, and the opinion of every right-minded person. I only wonder that He did not think of it before.”

The young prince Absalom, who had more than fifty wives, exclaimed in ringing tones,

“I am in favor of war, to teach these barbarians to know and worship the God of the Jews.” And he held up his sword, the handle of which was carved to represent the Adonis of Sidon, to whose inexhaustible vigor the prince sacrificed, every spring, a ram and a cock.

This speech of Absalom’s was received with acclaim by the nobles. The next day the armies of Israel, led by the king, and accompanied by more than a thousand priests of Adonis, Astarte, Kemosh, Melcarth, the local Baalim, and the Holy Ark, set out for the frontiers of Aram.