On this first Sunday of Lent, we are called to reflect deeply on repentance and our turning toward God. Ash Wednesday reminds us that ‘we are dust and to dust we shall return; turn away from sins and be faithful to Christ’. This is the liturgical season when we should be seriously reflecting on our direction, decisions, and devotion in our own lives. Lent calls us to re-orientate our lives with God’s purposes, to seek forgiveness, and to extend mercy as we have received it.
So, it is no surprise that today’s reading brings us to Jonah. The Book of Jonah is brief but unforgettable, often loved by children for its dramatic twists. But beneath its simplicity lies a real challenge to our understanding of justice, mercy, and the nature of God’s call.
Jonah’s story begins with a command from God: ‘Go to Nineveh.’ But Jonah runs in the opposite direction, refusing to bring God’s message to the capital of the Assyrian Empire. After his dramatic encounter with the great fish, Jonah receives the call a second time. And so, reluctantly, he goes.
Yet Jonah’s reluctance is not mere stubbornness—it is rooted in history, in trauma, in deep wounds that have not healed. The Assyrian Empire had brutalised Jonah’s people, conquering ten tribes of the twelve and devastating the Northern Kingdom of Israel. For Jonah, Nineveh was not just another city; it was the heart of an empire that had caused immense suffering and trauma.
Can we blame him for not wanting to go? Can we not imagine how painful it must have been to walk into the city of his enemies and proclaim that God was giving them a chance to repent? Jonah does the bare minimum and says, ‘Forty days more, and Nineveh shall be overthrown!’ There is no call to repentance, no offer of hope. It is as if he is saying, ‘You’re done.’
But something unexpected happens. The people listen. They fast, they mourn, and they turn from their evil ways. Even the king humbles himself
in ashes and urges the entire city to change. And then comes the greatest surprise: God relents. The destruction Jonah longed to see never comes. Nineveh is spared—and Jonah is furious.
This is where the story turns inward, asking us to examine our own hearts. Jonah wanted justice, but what he really wanted was vengeance. And perhaps we understand him. When we witness great evil—oppression, violence, or corruption—something in us cries out for judgment. We want the guilty to suffer. We want those who have harmed others to face the full weight of their sins.
Yet, God’s justice is not limited to punishment. It is a justice that seeks restoration and redemption. This does not erase the reality of evil or the suffering of victims. But it does challenge us to see that God’s mercy is wider than we can comprehend. God does not desire destruction but repentance. Even for those we deem unworthy. Even for those who have wounded us.
This is where Jonah’s story unsettles us. Where are we like Jonah, clinging to resentment, refusing to believe that God’s grace could extend to those we despise? Where do we resist the idea that those who have caused harm might also be capable of repentance and change? And, more personally, have we truly repented for our own failings, or do we justify and excuse them?
The Book of Jonah is read during Yom Kippur, the Jewish Day of Atonement, a time of fasting and repentance. How fitting it is that we, too, reflect on our own repentance during Lent. True repentance is not just about acknowledging our sins—it is about transformation. It means turning away from what separates us from God and actively choosing the path of love, humility, and righteousness.
But repentance is not just an internal matter. It must be lived out. The people of Nineveh did not just say they were sorry; they changed their behaviour. The king declared, “Let everyone turn from his evil way and from the violence that is in his hands.” This is what true repentance looks like—not empty words but real action.
So, what should we do this Lent? I have three suggestions based on the reflection Jonah’s experience.
First, we must examine our hearts. What sins, attitudes, or habits do we need to turn away from? Where in our lives do we resist God’s call? Are we running in the opposite direction, like Jonah, refusing to do what we know God asks of us? Lent is a time to stop running and face these questions honestly.
Second, we must ask where we are withholding mercy. Who are the Ninevites in our lives—those we struggle to forgive, those we believe are beyond redemption? Are we, like Jonah, hoping for their downfall rather than their transformation? If so, we must allow God to challenge and change our hearts.
Third, we must act. Jonah’s message was simple, yet it led to an entire city repenting. Our call may not be to stand in a public square and proclaim judgment, but we are called to be bearers of God’s truth and love. Perhaps this means speaking out against injustice, defending the oppressed, or reaching out in reconciliation. Perhaps it means offering a word of kindness, forgiving someone who has wronged us, or seeking forgiveness ourselves.
Lent is not just about giving something up; it is about taking something on. It is a season of spiritual discipline, of turning not just from sin but toward God. It is a time to pray, to fast, to give generously, to serve others, and to step more fully into the life God calls us to live.
Jonah’s success as a prophet had nothing to do with his willingness or skill—it was God’s work from the beginning. And so it is with us. We are called, like Jonah, to speak truth, even when it is difficult. But unlike Jonah, we are also called to rejoice when God’s mercy triumphs over judgment. For in the end, we all stand in need of the same grace.
The ashes that mark us remind us of our shared humanity—that we are all dust, all broken, all in need of mercy beyond what we deserve. In that recognition, perhaps we can find the beginning of justice that vengeance could ever achieve. Amen.