Jonah slept soundly in his bed; while he slept the Lord was knocking but Jonah did not hear. Jonah did not hear because he did not want to listen, because he knew what the Lord was going to ask him. The Lord had asked the same thing of him every time he opened the door, and every time Jonah refused. Jonah had taken a double dose of Nyquil the night before, hoping to avoid the incessant knocking for a good sixteen hours. But even then he couldn't escape it -- the tap tap tap invaded his dreams. He woke to find his bare feet bobbing off the side of his shabby twin size mattress to the rhythm of the taps, as if the Lord's call had become a part of the inner workings of his nervous system.
At this he decided to give up and opened the door. The Lord did not come in. He stood in the entryway and waited. "You are welcome to enter my home, Lord," Jonah pressed, a little bitterly but nonetheless respectful. "I was not waiting to be invited, Jonah," the Lord replied, "I was inviting you to join me out here." Jonah lifted an eyebrow and sucked in a short breath, ready to close the door again. But he waited for the Lord to finish. Maybe He'd change His tune this time. "I need you to go to Ninevah, Jonah. This is your calling." The Lord paused for a split second -- Jonah had made a strange noise that sounded something like, "Calling schmalling *cough* AHEM." God continued, "You are to tell them of my wrath -- of the destruction they have doomed themselves to suffer at My hand. You will tell them of my offer of forgiveness, and draw attention to their wicked ways -- no, don't interrupt, Jonah. And don't you close this door. I don't want any more of your tricks. I am sending you to Ninevah. There's a ship leaving in three hours and I want you on it." Jonah couldn't look God in the eye as he answered him; he stopped himself from spitting on the ground right at God's feet. His disgust wasn't at God but at what the Lord was asking of him -- did He realize how vile and disgusting these people were? How could He reasonably expect Jonah to want to help these people? It wasn't even worth it to offer these people salvation, Jonah knew that. Why did God insist on trying? Why couldn't He send Jonah on trips to places like Jerusalem, or Jericho? Those people would at least count Jonah as a fellow Hebrew, and maybe respect him as God's chosen prophet. Most likely… not -- but it was worth a shot. More fun than being thrown in the lion's den with those Ninevites.
But Jonah didn't say this. He simply answered the Lord's call with, "You know what, you're right. I'm going to Ninevah in three hours. I'm getting on that ship. I'm sorry I ever doubted your wisdom, Lord." When the Lord still stayed at the door, a strange look Jonah could only describe as patronizing on His face, Jonah added, "Um, I just need to get a few things together, and I haven't showered yet today… I'll see you on the boat, alright?" Jonah looked at God with a not so subtle suggestion of leaving the premises written clearly in his eyes. He must think I'm stupid, God thought to Himself. Or he just thinks much too highly of himself. He seems to forget that I am omniscient, omnipotent, and omnipresent. I'll be with him wherever he is, whether he admits it or not. And I already know where he'll be: on his way to somewhere a little far from Ninevah… Well this should be fun. "Sure, kid, see you there. Make sure you wash behind the ears." The Lord let Jonah have his charade, and Jonah shut the door with a chuckle, thinking he had finally finagled his way out of the dreaded mission.
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Meanwhile, Rashid, captain of the Hadingtrough, was readying his sailors for a long and, most likely (if the weatherwitch had been right), trying trip to Tarshish. Rashid was a level-headed man, and he liked to have a plan. When Rashid's plans didn't go, well, as planned, he started to act a little strange. Rashid was not a man of violence - normally. But although he liked having a plan he hardly ever thought past Plan A. So when Jonah showed up at the dock that morning, Rashid knew something was not right. Jonah asked -- rather brusquely -- if there was extra room on the boat and demanded that Rashid let him board, offering him enough money to feed Rashid's crew for two weeks. Rashid looked Jonah up and down and said, "Kid, go home. You’re not supposed to be here. This ain't the plan, and I only work with the plan." Jonah had to exercise his greatest powers of self control and persuasion to stop himself from leaping at Rashid's throat -- that would have gotten Jonah killed, anyway. Rashid's muscles were quite a bit more intimidating than his "plan." Jonah's next thought was to burst into tears and cling to Rashid's robes like a tantruming two-year-old -- but he suppressed that urge, too. Actually, Jonah didn't have to do anything because Rashid's first-mate, Lazzar, had overheard their conversation and was not about to let all that money and free food slip through his fingers. "Ho, Cap'n! The boys've been makin' a ruckus like Zeus almighty were tearing their stomachs from their bodies! Did I hear this here fellow mention something about a two weeks supply?" Rashid nearly shoved him off the dock. Lazzar knew the plan. Lazzar knew Rashid did not stray from the plan. The plan did not change.
"I did!" Jonah yelped, physically leaping at the chance Lazzar was offering. They're in cahoots, thought Rashid. This is all some hoax, I just know it. Lazzar that damn Greek, he wants to be captain! "No. No, Lazzar, this man is a stranger, our ship is full, and as for the crew's bellies, maybe if they didn't waste their pay on women and booze they'd be able to hold down my stew long enough to get some nourishment." He turned to Jonah, "Go home, I said. What're ya, daft?!" Jonah stared blankly into Rashid's burning eyes for a second, then, just as he was about to walk off the dock he saw something like a flicker in the corner of his eye. He turned and looked again, just past Rashid this time, and saw that Lazzar was winking at him! Jonah walked off the dock suppressing the urge to stomp on Rashid's foot, but still with full intention of boarding that ship and spending a nice, long, God-free vacation in Tarshish. He crossed the street and made for the tavern -- one thing that had attracted Jonah to Joppa was the ratio of taverns to men per square kilometer. If God's people wouldn't heed him as a prophet, at least he could drink his troubles away without having to walk more than half a mile to the nearest bar.
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Lazzar, like Rashid, always had a plan. More often than not, his plan was to follow the captain's plan. But today was different; today he felt an itch he had never felt before. If Lazzar had been more experienced in recognizing and distinguishing between the voices contending for his soul, he would never have went with his own plan over Rashid’s. But Lazzar seemed to not be in complete control of his own actions anymore. I should help him, Lazzar had thought to himself when he saw Jonah. That man needs to come on this boat, and it's going to be my job to get him here, whether Rashid likes it or not.
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Jonah was sitting at the bar drinking his third Bloody Nile when he felt a strong hand land on his shoulder with the kind of comfortable force that usually comes with years of friendship. Jonah had been expecting him -- people don't give winks without reasons. He turned to find Lazzar sitting on the stool next to his. "Boat leaves in an hour. You can sneak in while Rashid is napping. There's a mattress in the bottom of the boat with the other wares, sleep on that… looks like you'll be needing some sleep if you want to avoid waking up with the dizzies." Jonah could only stare dumbly. Slowly his mind moved his mouth and larynx to form the words, "Why… are you -- who -- doing this, for me?" As he stumbled out of the tavern Lazzar answered him, "I don’t know why. Sometimes we don't know why. We don't have to know why, and that's sure relieving because sometimes we can't."
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He doesn't even know my name! Jonah was baffled. He was now laying on a mattress in the belly of the boat, surrounded by rocking cargo and wishing he had abstained from that last drink. He was afraid to close his eyes for fear of the spins, and afraid to keep them open, afraid of the consequences he would surely have to face in consciousness. Why is this working out so perfectly? There has to be a twist. There has to. It can't be this easy. He could hear footsteps above him; imagined them crushing the floorboards so the crew would come crashing down into the bottom with him when he fell. He searched himself for a sign, a moment -- it was then that he realized the crashing noises from above were not just the sound of heavy feet: there was a storm at full brew thrashing the ship to and fro, and Jonah thought he heard some screams coming from the men as they tried to keep the ship afloat. Yep, I'm going to sleep, Jonah promptly decided. Good thing no one knows I'm here or I'd have to be up there helping them.
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"You! Hey! Wake up sleepy head! It's time for some explanations!" Jonah woke to a dripping, fuming, cursing Rashid grabbing him by the collar and dragging him off the mattress and up the stairs to the deck. Jonah's stomach did a violent flip flop and he barely had time to turn his head before the Bloody Niles wretched their way onto the floor next to Lazzar. "Cap'n, we shouldn't be out here! Cap'n bring us in, we won't survive it!" Lazzar was pleading. Rashid had no sympathy, and it seemed no fear, either. "No! This storm is not for us; it won't take our lives if we appease the gods by learning of its origins. I have a feeling they're to do with this stowaway here. A friend of yours, Lazzar?" Rashid's fury seemed comparable to the storm's in both power and violence. Rashid proceeded without waiting for an answer from Lazzar or Jonah. Each of the crew was seated in a circle on the deck, huddled together for warmth and safety. Lazzar motioned for Jonah to take a seat while Rashid revealed a pair of dice in his right hand.
Lots were cast, and all eyes fell on Jonah – or, what they could see of him through the torrential rain and stinging winds. Rashid threw a sharp glance at Lazzar and then turned to Jonah, "Man, tell us your purpose. What have you done to anger the gods? Why have you come to my ship? Tell me why my crew and I are made to suffer for what must be your errors? Huh? What have you done?!” Jonah cowered beside Lazzar as the storm tried to push him toward the burly, bellowing man; it was like the storm itself was following orders to make him miserable.
“You weren’t supposed to find me here.” Jonah muttered. He was less happy with God now than he was on a usual basis. Rashid and the crew were giving him strange looks, but Lazzar was the only one to hear Jonah’s outburst. “Who are you talking to, …what’s your name? I don’t even know your name! Who are you?!” Lazzar had a look on his face that showed more fearful politeness than true concern for Jonah. Why did I ever follow my stupid plan?! Lazzar thought.
With no response from God aside from the continuing storm, Jonah did not feel compelled to give them any explanation other than the fact that he was Hebrew. That seemed to be enough to cause immediate violent reactions among the crew. Before they could stop him Jonah flung himself off the gangplank and into the salty sea, waiting for her arms to strangle him and her tears to drown him in a song of pity. If I can't run away in this life I'll just have to try another.
As God pulled an unconscious Jonah from the sea's depths he thanked her for playing along, and smirked a little to Himself as He set Jonah in the belly of the whale. He thinks he knows so much. Doesn't he know I was with him the whole time -- just as I am with him now, and as I long to be with the Ninevites? A few nights in another’s belly and Jonah will think better than to run away from ME. Jonah of all should know – salvation is of the Lord.”
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Jonah woke with his feet tapping to the rhythm of the sea, as if her rhythm had tapped into his nervous system somehow, insistently tap-tap-tapping. He had had a strange dream: the Lord had called him to Ninevah and instead Jonah had fled to Tarshish via some slum ship in the Joppa harbor, only to be swallowed by a giant fish after God rescued him from a suicide attempt. Jonah breathed in a deep sigh of relief and opened his eyes to the dim early morning light. His breath caught short – the pink hue of dawn was not being caused by the sun, and these walls were covered in seaweed and smelt of decaying fish. Jonah cursed under his breath, then slowly leaned back into the bed of seaweed and fishbone. Well, anywhere’s better than Ninevah -- even the belly of a whale.
