The Patron Saint of the Bitter and Angry.

The Twenty-Seventh Wednesday of Ordinary Time; or, the Memorial of Saint John XXIII, Pope.

Lessons from the primary feria, according to the ordinary form of the Roman Rite:

• Jonah 4: 1-11.
• Psalm 86: 3-6, 9-10.
• Luke 11: 1-4.

When a Mass for the memorial is taken, lessons from the feria as above, or any lessons from the common of Pastors for a Pope.

The Second Class Feast of the Motherhood of the Blessed Virgin Mary.*

Lessons from the proper, according to the extraordinary form of the Roman Rite:

• Ecclesiasticus 24: 23-31.
[Gradual] Isaiah 11: 1-2.
• Luke 2: 43-51.

The Eighteenth Wednesday after Pentecost; the Feast of the Holy Apostle Philip, One of the Seven Deacons; the Feast of Our Venerable Father Theophane the Artist & Hymnographer, Bishop of Nicea; and, the Feast of Our Holy Father John XXIII, Pope of Rome.**

First & third lessons from the pentecostarion, second & fourth from the menaion for the Apostle, according to the Ruthenian recension of the Byzantine Rite:

• Philippians 1: 12-20.
• Acts 8: 26-39.
• Luke 8: 22-25.
• Luke 10: 1-15.

8:13 AM 10/11/2017 — The first lesson at Holy Mass for the first three days of this week are all from the Book of the Prophet Jonah, and today's is the last. And, even though some of you who are here regularly have heard this all before, I didn’t want to let Jonah slip by without some mention.
     The Prophet Jonah gets short shrift in the Roman Missal, probably because his story is one of the shortest books of the bible: 48 verses divided into four very brief chapters. The date of its composition is hard to pin down: anywhere between the eighth to the first century BC; but, the style of the Hebrew is the same as that used in the books of Ezra and Nehemiah, which would put it somewhere in the fifth century. Equally contested is the question of whether Jonah was a historical person, or whether the book is a parable. There are certainly a lot of Old Testament parables which do not pretend to be historical accounts; but, they occur mostly in the first five books of the Bible, and don't contain the kind of biographical data about the subject that we find in Jonah. Our Lord Himself seems to refer to Jonah as a symbolic person when, in both the Gospels of Matthew and Luke, He refers to what He calls “the sign of Jonah,”*** but that's not conclusive by any means.
     Of course, whether legend or fact, whichever it may be, the story of Jonah we all know, at least the outline of it: Jonah is a reluctant prophet. God commands him to go the city of Nineveh and preach to them because they had become wicked in God's eyes; but, Jonah wants none of it, and instead goes to Joppa and catches a boat for Tharsis thinking that God can't find him in Tharsis (the Bible doesn't say that Jonah was a particularly bright man). As you heard in the lesson on Monday, the ship gets caught in a typhoon, and the captain, upon discovering that Jonah is a Jew, pleads with him to call upon his God to save them, but Jonah doesn't want to open up any lines of communication with God; he's trying to run away from God. So, the crew, in a stereotypical fit of seafaring superstition, conclude that the reason they're caught in a typhoon is because they're harboring a fugitive from God, so they throw him overboard. God causes Jonah to be swallowed up by a great fish, in whose belly he languishes for three days and three nights (in a prefiguring of our Lord's three days in the tomb), where he finally breaks down and calls upon God to save him. The fish burbs him up on the beach—ironically, not far from the city of Nineveh—and God, once again, repeats His command for Jonah to go there, and this time he does. As you heard yesterday, he tells the Ninevites that they have forty days to repent of their evil ways or else God will destroy them, but it doesn't take forty days; after only one day of preaching, the whole city is converted, and even the king of Nineveh sheds his robes and covers himself in sackcloth to do penance. Which brings us to today's first lesson.
     And this is where the story gets interesting, because Jonah, after all he had been through, decided that he was entitled to see some fireworks. Now, from the outset, Jonah is portrayed as a bitter and angry man;—we have no idea why—and, while you'd think that his experience in the belly of the fish would have cured him of that and made him a little more humble, it didn't. He tries to tell God that the reason he ran away in the first place was because he suspected all along that God was a soft touch and wasn't going to follow through on His threat against the city regardless. He completely glosses over the fact that the Ninevites made a very dramatic repentance. He sits down under a tree where he can see the city to see if God will destroy it after all, and when it isn't destroyed he wants to die. God reaches out to Jonah and wants to dialog about it, but Jonah refuses to talk to Him, and that's pretty much where the book ends.
     It's an odd story, and its abrupt ending causes us to want to ask some questions, such as why Jonah feels the way he does at the end. There might be a historical reason: Nineveh was the capitol of the Assyrian Empire, which was a long-time enemy of Israel. Isaiah denounced Assyria as “the rod of God's anger” (10: 5) and “the overwhelming scourge” (28: 15); Jeremiah warned his people about the powerful pagan foe (2: 18, 36; 50: 17f); the prophets Hosea, Micah and Nahum all reminded the Israelites about this bitter enemy of God's people; so, maybe Jonah was angry that God would even give the Ninevites a chance to repent.
     When I was in the seminary there was one faculty member who was very liberal, and who had set himself to the task of making sure that any seminarian who gave evidence of being traditional never became a priest. Keep in mind that those were very difficult days to be in the senimary. And each year we would have to sit down with each priest on the faculty and go through an evaluation process; but, for him, the evaluation was just a matter of going through the motions, because he had already decided, before the evaluation even began, that you were no good. Two years after I was ordained he left the priesthood. I don't think it was because I was ordained; it was probably because he was, like Jonah, a bitter and angry man by nature, and those kinds of people do not make good priests. If you've ever worked for someone like that, you may have had a similar experience.
     The story of Jonah is, of course, a lesson about God's mercy, but there's more to it than that. Jonah is not an uncommon type of person. He's angry at the world, and for reasons that may or may not make sense to anyone but him, kind of like the man who shot and killed so many people in Las Vegas. And, while he goes through the motions, giving lip-service to the idea that he wants things to change, in reality he doesn't; because, if things were to change, he would have nothing more to be angry about, and wouldn't know what to do with himself. And, as distasteful as it sounds, there are times when we're all tempted to go down that acrimonious road. Maybe we're older now, and most of our friends are gone, and we feel that our families don't pay enough attention to us; our children have families of their own now, and we're no longer the center of their attention. Things are not what they used to be: the neighborhood has changed, the parish has changed, nothing is familiar anymore, coupled with all the usual aches and pains that come with growing old, and all the things we used to be able to do that we can't anymore.
     There is a remedy to all this, of course, and that's prayer. That is what I think is the real message of the Book of Jonah. It ends on a low note because Jonah, in his bitterness, cuts off his dialog with God. It would be nice to have the story end up a redemption story, like the Book of Job: bad things happen to Job just like they do to Jonah, but Job never stops praying; and, because he never stops praying, he and God are reconciled. Both books are relatively short (Job is a little longer), they're both very similar, but they end in completely different ways; and, there's a reason why it's important that the Book of Jonah ends the way it does. Life is often disappointing, and how we respond to that disappointment is crucial. In the midst of all his tragedies, Job never stopped praying, never stopped trusting that God would, somehow, make everything alright in the end, which He did. Jonah did stop praying and, as a result, his anger became his only companion. In the end, that was all he had left. And it’s no accident that today’s Gospel lesson is our Blessed Lord’s most important lesson on prayer, in which he gives us the “Our Father.”
     The moral of the story, of course, is that the choice is really up to us. Almighty God, in His permissive will, allows crosses to come our way for reasons that remain hidden to us—sometimes as atonement for our sins, sometimes as reparation for the sins of others, sometimes to humble our wills in preparation for some great task He has for us to do in the future—and how we respond to those crosses is important. But we’d never respond in any way at all if we were to stop talking with God.

* In 1931, Pope Pius XI instituted this feast to commemorate the fifteenth centenary of the Council of Ephesus, held in the year 431, which vindicated the title of Theotokos or "Mother of God" for our Lady. In the oridnary form, it has been transfered to January 1st and promoted to the rank of a solemnity, displacing the old feast of the Circumcision.

** The holy deacon Philip was born in Cæsarea of Palestine. According to Acts, he was one of the seven deacons ordained by the apostles. He preached in Samaria, baptized Simon the Magician, explained the faith to the Eunuch of Queen Candace of Ethiopia and baptized him. His four daughters were gifted with the charisma of prophesy.
  Theophane the Hymnographer (778-845) was a brother of Theodore the Confessor. Both were born in Karak of Transjordan. Highly educated in science, they entered the monastic life in 800 and were ordained to the priesthood. They moved to Constantinople in 813 and, under the inconoclastic Emperor Leo the Armenian, were jailed for their faith. Released by order of the Emperor Michael the Stutterer, they were arrested again by Emperor Theophilus, sent into exile in 834, then called back to the capital where they were beaten and branded on the forehead. Finally, during the reign of Emperor Michael the Pious, Theophane become Metropolitan Archbishop of Nicea, and died in 845.

*** In the Greek, Ἰωνᾶ, genitive of the expexegetic Ἰωνᾶϛ: not the sign that Jonah either received or gave, but the sign or symbol that Jonah was in himself.