Jonah 4:1–11

4:1 The chapter begins with a brilliant yet tragic play on words. It involves a Hebrew root (raʻah) that can refer to something “morally bad” (evil; Gen. 50:15; Jonah 1:2), to a “bad thing” that befalls someone (disaster/discomfort; Ezek. 7:5; Jonah 1:7–8), or to something that one “considers to be bad” (displeasing), either in a general way (Gen. 48:17; Num. 22:34; Josh. 24:15) or because it is morally wrong and thus displeasing either to people (1 Sam. 8:6; Neh. 13:8) or to the Lord (Gen. 38:10; 2 Sam. 11:27). All three senses of this Hebrew word occur in this verse and the one immediately preceding it (Jonah 3:10). Chapter 3 ends with the Ninevites’ turning from their “evil” (raʻah), so that the Lord turns from bringing on them the “disaster” (raʻah) they deserve (v. 10). The reader would hope that Jonah—who just received the Lord’s lavish mercy and forgiveness for his own evil (ch. 2)—might again break out in a prayer of thanksgiving. Instead, we are told the Lord’s mercy is “displeasing” (raʻah) to him—and “exceedingly” so.¹ Jonah considered it gravely wrong for the Lord to show such mercy and grace to such a wicked people. He was “scandalized by the inclusiveness of God’s mercy.”²

4:2–3 This becomes especially clear in his prayer, where the reader is told for the first time why Jonah fled from the Lord and his mission: he knew it might result in the Lord’s forgiving this people. As Jonah begins to explain this, he displays a shocking depth of self-centered blindness.³ In his prayer, Jonah recites some of the most precious truths about the Lord’s character that the Israelites have ever experienced as a people. In fact, he uses language from one of the darkest moments of Israel’s history: when they build a golden calf and bow down before it in worship (Ex. 32:1–6). It is in that context, when the Lord forgives his sinful people, that we first read that he is a God who “relents from disaster” (Ex. 32:12, 14). It is in that context, when the Lord renews the covenant with them—the one they have just broken—that we first read that he is a God “merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love” (Ex. 34:6). Jonah’s own undeserving people had benefited from this mercy and grace. Yet somehow, when the Lord shows this same mercy and grace to others, Jonah is filled not with praise but with a discouraged anger that burns so deeply that he wants to die (Jonah 4:3). If God is going to forgive people who Jonah thinks are too wicked to deserve it, Jonah does not want to live in such a world. “‘Over my dead body’ is his vehement reaction to God’s grace.”⁴

4:4 The Lord responds with a searching question: “Do you do well to be angry?” (v. 4). In other words, “Is this the right response?” In this context in particular, the issue is clear: “Is it right to be angry that the same mercy and grace you yourself have received from the Lord is shown to other people?”

4:5 Instead of responding, Jonah leaves the city, makes a temporary shelter (the heat of a Middle Eastern day can be dangerously oppressive), and waits to “see what would become of the city.” At first glance, this seems curious. Jonah’s response in verses 1–3 suggests he already knows disaster will not come (presumably because the Lord has made it known to him or because the forty days have passed). If so, why does he go out of the city to see what will happen? Some have answered this question by suggesting that verses 5–11 are a flashback.⁵ This is not impossible, but it is not the most natural reading of the Hebrew. The Hebrew verb form at the verse’s beginning usually indicates subsequent action, so verse 5 is most naturally read as describing what happens next. It may therefore simply be that Jonah goes out of the city in hopes that the Lord’s judgment will still come.⁶ From Jonah’s perspective, this is exactly what should happen, and so he sits stubbornly in his shelter hoping that it does.

4:6 The Lord responds with an object lesson; he still wants Jonah to understand that his mercy and grace are not to be hoarded but to be shared freely and widely. The lesson begins with familiar language. Just as the Lord had “appointed” a great fish to keep Jonah alive miraculously for three days and deliver him from the sea (1:17), here the Lord “appoints” a plant to grow up miraculously in a day and deliver Jonah from the sun, providing extra shade that the shelter could not provide.

But like the great fish, this plant is about more than rescue; it, too, has been appointed by the Lord to teach Jonah a lesson about mercy and grace. The narrator makes this clear by using the same play on words as in 3:10–4:1. The Ninevites were rescued from “disaster/discomfort” (raʻah) (3:10), and Jonah was “exceedingly displeased” (raʻah) (4:1); in this verse, it is Jonah who is rescued from “disaster/discomfort” (raʻah)—and he is “exceedingly glad.” He has experienced the very same thing as the Ninevites and yet responds in exactly the opposite way! This self-centered hypocrisy would have been impossible for the original audience to miss, but somehow Jonah does miss it; yet the Lord is about to make it abundantly clear.

4:7–8 Having delivered Jonah from discomfort (raʻah) for a day (v. 6), the Lord withdraws his deliverance and allows Jonah to experience discomfort in all its strength. He appoints a worm to come and kill the plant (v. 7). The saving shade is now gone, and as the sun rises to bake Jonah in the desert sand, the Lord appoints a scorching east wind that “blows its hot breath through the . . . shelter till it feels like an oven.”⁷ Jonah is growing faint; his discomfort is fast becoming a disaster.

At this point, the listener might hope that Jonah will finally get it, that he will cry out, “O Lord, now I see! To experience disaster is a horrible thing! I could not wish this on my worst enemies! Forgive me for being so merciless, so lacking in compassion and grace!”

Instead, Jonah’s heart becomes even harder, and he once more angrily asks the Lord to put him to death. His precious plant is dead, and the Lord seems to care nothing about the resulting disaster. The irony is astounding. Earlier, Jonah had wanted to die because of his anger that the Ninevites had been delivered from their disaster (v. 3); now he wants to die because of his anger for not being delivered from his own disaster! Somehow, he remains convinced he deserves deliverance from disaster but others do not—that his evil deserves forgiveness while the evil of others deserves judgment.

4:9 The Lord responds by repeating the question he left hanging in verse 4. This time, however, he ties it into the object lesson that Jonah is unknowingly in the midst of: “Do you do well to be angry for the plant?” In other words, is such anger over a simple plant the right response? This time—finally!—Jonah answers the question, but the answer he gives is shocking: “Yes, I do well to be angry, angry enough to die.” In other words, “Of course I should be angry! That plant meant so much to me that its destruction was a horrible wrong! It should enjoy life, not death! Blessing, not curse! Mercy and compassion, not disaster!”

The attentive listener cannot help but think, “Jonah, if this is true for a plant, is it not all the more true for a city full of people?” And it is this very thought the Lord now puts into words.

4:10–11 God does so by drawing a striking contrast between Jonah’s reaction to the plant and his reaction to Nineveh. He first describes the plant (v. 10), and everything about the Lord’s description is meant to underscore how little the plant should mean to Jonah. He did not spend hours laboring over it; he did not cause it to grow; he had no time to get attached to it. It was just a day-old weed that happened to grow up beside his shelter.

How different it is when it comes to the Lord and the city of Nineveh (v. 11)! Everything about the Lord’s description of the city is meant to underscore how much it should mean to Jonah. We could paraphrase God’s declaration: “Nineveh has more than 120,000 people⁸ in it! People made in my image! And they are utterly lost, with no idea of what is right and wrong; they are like little children who cannot even tell the difference between their right hand and their left. And even if you do not care about the people, just think about all those animals! So go ahead, put your plant on one side of a scale and all these things on the other side. Which is weightier? Which matters more? If you can feel sorry for this meager and meaningless plant, should I not feel sorry for all these people made in my image? Jonah, do you not get it?! Are not the animals of the city alone worth more pity than your puny plant?”⁹

No response is recorded. Once again, the Lord’s question hangs in the air unanswered. This is intentional—when a story ends with a question, the only ones who can answer it are the readers. The question forces us to think about the answer, forces us to fill in the blank. What is our response?