Thus says the Lord God: If the wicked man turns away from all the sins he committed, if he keeps all my statutes and does what is right and just, he shall surely live, he shall not die. None of the crimes he committed shall be remembered against him; he shall live because of the virtue he has practiced. Do I indeed derive any pleasure from the death of the wicked? says the Lord God. Do I not rather rejoice when he turns from his evil way that he may live?
And if the virtuous man turns from the path of virtue to do evil, the same kind of abominable things that the wicked man does, can he do this and still live? None of his virtuous deeds shall be remembered, because he has broken faith and committed sin; because of this, he shall die. You say, “The Lord’s way is not fair!” Hear now, house of Israel: Is it my way that is unfair, or rather, are not your ways unfair? When someone virtuous turns away from virtue to commit iniquity, and dies, it is because of the iniquity he committed that he must die. But if the wicked, turning from the wickedness he has committed, does what is right and just, he shall preserve his life; since he has turned away from all the sins that he committed, he shall surely live, he shall not die. [Ezekiel 18: 21-28]
In today’s first reading, the prophet Ezekiel makes two points: On the one hand, if the man who has done evil genuinely repents of what he has done, all his sins will be totally forgiven, and his eternal life would not be taken from him. On the other hand, if the formerly good man turns to a life of sin, he will lose his eternal life. He will be punished even if he did much good in the past.
But Jonah is mad because the people of Nineveh have been spared. The compassion—the mercy—of the God he reveres is greater than Jonah’s petty need for revenge and retribution. Jonah is angry because he did not get what he wanted— God smiting the people he does not like.
The citizens of Nineveh, remember, are not even Jews. The story plays on the distinction that the Hebrews made between themselves and other nations, that they had been chosen out of all the nations of the world for a special covenant with God. That God’s covenant could be universal, and could include all peoples, was anathema to them, who claimed the superiority of their racial, ethnic, tribal, and national group over all others.
I have known people like Jonah, given to jingoistic sloganeering about their nation being the best nation on Earth; given to confirming their prejudices by quoting a scripture, chapter and verse, and who refuse to acknowledge goodness in people different from themselves.
I see in the character of Jonah something I see all the time. Like when you’re really angry at somebody who has wronged you in some way. They have done something really hurtful, and you just can’t wait until you see them because you are going to let them have it. You are going to tell them what they did and how it made you feel and what you’re going to do about it and what they should do about it and the kind of person that you think they are.
You rehearse what you’re going to say in your mind, making all kinds of brilliant points about this other person’s shortcomings and failures.
And then when you see them, before you can even get a word out, they apologize. Without your explaining it, they acknowledge what they have done. They say they realize what they did was hurtful, and they are sorry. And they ask you to accept their apology.
You don’t want them to be sorry! You want to have the fight you’ve been rehearsing in your head! You don’t want to accept their apology, you want to enumerate the ways in which they are wrong, and now you’re even angrier because they have taken that away from you.
Sometimes we do not want reconciliation or resolution. We want to be proven right. We want to triumph in victory over other people. We, ourselves, can be vengeful or spiteful and in so doing, perpetuate a conflict, continue a difference we have with others.
Maybe you have known people like Jonah, who refuse to give up their resentments, refuse to let go of a justified anger or a grudge, who seethe with bitterness at the perceived or actual wrongdoing of others. We all have known people who collect grievances.
I have known people who always must win, whether it’s a game or an argument (Wait! That’s me!). They must be right (Yes, that’s definitely me!). A wall of righteousness and arrogance and ego blocks them from acknowledging they could be wrong, that their knowledge could be partial, that there could be goodness and thoughtfulness in a person or people they designate as their opponent.
I think we all know somebody who is like Jonah, and I think that we all, in one way or another, are at times, like him.
We don’t need to look very far to find smug and self-righteous people. We are right here. We don’t need to look to other groups of people in other religions or with different politics from us to find people who are convinced that they are right. We are right here.
Jonah needed to be right. There are rules and if you don’t follow them, you are to be punished. That is the correct way of running an ordered and predictable universe. There is a moral and good way to act and an immoral and evil way to act. The good are rewarded. Wrongdoers are punished. God is on the side of those who are right, moral, and good. God is on our side and is against them.
This either-or, black-and-white way of ordering people and the world can’t handle compassion and forgiveness. The idea that wrong can go unpunished is unbearable and upsetting.
Anger can, as Thich Nhat Hanh notes, form a kind of knot within us, a knot that is difficult to undo. When that knot has formed within us, the person with whom we disagree or who has wronged us is all wrong, all the time. We cannot see anything else about that person. We hold on to that anger, as resentment, because we think that doing so is going to punish them for what they did wrong. But it’s actually like swallowing a burning poison in our effort to hurt somebody else. We are only hurting ourselves.
Physically, when we carry anger and resentment around within us, our bodies are affected negatively—high blood pressure, ulcers, headaches, muscle pain. If we choose to be free of suffering, it will be because we let go of the resentment we are holding on to.
We need to ask ourselves, “Do I want to be right? Or do I want to be free?” We CAN choose freedom. In living a compassionate life, practicing forgiveness, we do the hard spiritual work of giving up the demand to be vindicated.
What about those that have harmed us? What happens when they do not reach out to make amends, or insist they have done nothing wrong, or will not engage with you at all? What about needing to forgive somebody who has died or is otherwise indisposed?
It seems to me we then have the choice of either holding on to our sense of being aggrieved or letting go. We can constantly tell ourselves the story of how we were wronged and live out that identity of the righteous victim. Or, without excusing others’ actions, without forgetting the harm they caused, we can let go of the hurt and the anger and the acrimony and vindictiveness.
Anger and resentment are corrosive to the soul, eating you up inside. Forgiveness can be an act of self-care, even as one stands in opposition to the others’ actions, firmly standing against their behavior.
One does the work of justice, of resolving conflict, of being in relation with difficult people, without becoming full of negative emotion. It is a kind of non-attached engagement; we are not detached, but we don’t get hooked and reeled in by the reactivity, the ill will of those with whom we are in conflict. We maintain a spacious, serene mind and equilibrium in our hearts, even as we oppose them.
Being unforgiving is essentially a fantasy of making the past different than it is and wanting to punish somebody for doing something they cannot change. Forgiveness is a practice that liberates us from what cannot be undone; it frees us from an unchanging past. Forgiveness, being fully in the present moment and oriented toward possibilities of the future, is what it takes for peace and understanding.
We can laugh at the caricature that Jonah represents, but let it be the laughter of recognition and not derision; that we see in this character something of our own character. And let us recognize that we ourselves at times are like the citizens of Nineveh, unable to tell our right hand from our left, and that concern and grace and love is shown to us, even in our confusion and uncertainty. More than we sometimes know.
And let us find it within ourselves to live more graciously and with more compassion, for ourselves as well as others, forgiving and asking forgiveness, that we may live with ease and at peace.
May God Bless You and Grant You His Peace!