Occasionally I find a writer
who not only pens a great novel or poem
but time after time delights me with wisdom
or shocks me with brutal honesty.
Maybe that happens to you sometimes as well.
Some of those writers I invoke here often-
like a Barbara Brown Taylor
or the poet Mary Oliver.
Another whom I turn to with some frequency
may be less known than these,
even though he was a Pulitzer prize finalist
as well as a finalist for the National Book Award,
and his writings, translated into 27 languages,
have often been compared to the works
of C.S. Lewis and G.K. Chesterton.
Frederick Buechner, who died in 2022,
was a Presbyterian minister, author and preacher.
As a theologian he is not all sunshine and buttercups,
and prods us to be realistic about the dark
in our lives and particularly in religion
nudging us to consider the possibility of hope
from the most unexpected of quarters.
In his Telling the Truth, a slim volume of less than 100 pages,
Buechner writes about the gospel alternately as
tragedy, comedy and fairy tale.
It is his conviction that each one of us must
— first perceive the tragedy of human failure
— then the comedy of God’s unwavering love
— and finally the fairy tale of God’s willingness to enter into our world and save us.
My musing on the work of Buechner
and his gift for speaking the unvarnished truth of God’s word
in all of its tragic and comedic dimensions
was prompted by today’s first reading.
The tale of Noah is alternately tragic and comedic
with so many fairy tale elements, it could have been crafted
by the biblical precursor of Walt Disney.
There is a quite amusing animated video online entitled
“The subversive story of a rebellious prophet
who hates God for loving his enemies”
That highlights some of the absurdities of this story:
— Like featuring a selfish prophet contrasted with humble and repentant pagans,
— A prophet so toxic that he even gives a behemoth from the deep uncontrollable indigestion
— Whose incredibly powerful 5 word sermon
— pushes not only the world’s most powerful king
— but even his cows to repent.
— Which ignites new outrage in our toxic prophet who apparently has more care for some newly sprouted vine than a throng of humanity.
— And ultimately chews out God for being too compassionate.
As for tragic elements – certainly the prophet’s attitude ranks high.
As for the Comedic – well, where else have you heard about cows repenting?
And when it comes to fairy tales – maybe it’s self-defense, but I’m sticking with the 5 word sermon as the most effective in human history.
But there is something else going on here
that Buechner’s 3 categories don’t exactly cover.
For, from a literary perspective,
more than tragedy, comedy or fairy tale,
the Book of Jonah is unadulterated satire.
A distinctive genre in its own right,
satire is particularly well-suited
for critiquing social practices and hypocrisy.
Think about the TV shows South Park or The Simpsons,
novels like Don Quixote or Animal Farm,
or movies Dr. Strangelove or Monty Python’s Life of Brian.
And what do these satirical works contribute to society?
In the case of South Park, which has generated
serious scholarly studies
and even multiple graduate theses,
according to one author, this highly irreverent show
targets far left and far right ideologies
and reveals the absurdity of extremist points of view.
While it may not be something we recognize very often,
satire is similarly employed in the bible
to critique social, political and religious extremism,
and especially hypocrisy.
Take for example the book of Job,
in which God satirizes Job’s lack of wisdom or power,
musing about whether Job was around
when God laid the foundations of the earth.
The Psalmist is no slouch when it comes to satire.
In one blistering passage mocking hand-made idols, he writes:
They have mouths, but cannot speak,
eyes, but they cannot see;
they have ears but cannot hear,
noses, but they cannot smell;
they have hands, but cannot feel,
feet, but they cannot walk;
nor can they utter a sound with their throats.
Those who make them will be like them …
The prophets even use vulgarity when satirizing pagan gods,
wondering why they don’t answer,
musing that they must be asleep, or traveling
or taking a bathroom break.
Jesus as well was pretty good with a satirical quip.
Consider that he named unstable and double-crossing
Peter as “Rocky”;
suggests that its easier for a
camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for the rich to enter heaven;
or chides pharisees as blind guides for
straining out gnats but swallowing camels.
Now I know you are very excited
to learn that the bible is filled
not only with comedies, tragedies and fairytales,
but also satire, sarcasm, and mockery,
some of it from the lips of the Son of God.
So maybe today we have discovered the scriptural basis
for the Gospel according to Bart Simpson,
or The Epistle from Dr. Strangelove,
giving us permission to share in this biblical gift
of caustic and disparaging language.
That certainly would be a theological comfort
to many a politician and public figure today
who seem to excel in belittlement and ridicule.
On the other hand, as a rhetorical device,
satire is not first and foremost about diminishment
but about change.
God mocking Jonah, because he is an inept prophet;
the Psalmist chastising idol makers
because they shattered a primary commandment
to have no other gods but the one
who delivered them from slavery;
and Jesus rebuffs certain Pharisees
because they are so OCD about observing legal minutiae
that they miss the law of love.
Augustine wisely notes that Hope has two beautiful daughters:
their names are Anger and Courage.
Anger at the way things are
and Courage to see that they do not remain that way.
Courageous anger against extremism,
whether it is a prophet chastising God
for being too compassionate,
a Catholic prelate chastising the Pope
for undermining the deposit of faith,
or some reckless politician
undermining the voice and dignity of the people.
In some ways, even though we read the story of Jonah first,
it is the ending … a DISAPPOINTING ending.
Whereas the gospel story of fresh discipleship is the beginning.
Today’s Gospel is the beginning of a story of discipleship.
Jonah is the end of one … .
And, like a long past Advent,
this community today lives between the two-
between a fresh call to discipleship
and an ending that individually and collectively
we have not yet reached.
So will our discipleship blunder towards tragedy,
embrace the comedy of human existence,
or immerse itself in God’s mythic entry into our world,
into our community, into our lives?
While it might not seem a pressing question,
and you and I have a lot on our agendas this week,
I’m getting ready to leave the country for a month.
Impertinent Paul reminds us that time is running out.
Running out to care for a planet.
Running out to care for migrants.
Running out to stop the starvation.
Running out to stop the violence.
While it was not reported in the Chicago Catholic this past week,
there was a clandestine meeting of local demons
summoned by Satan himself, as there seems to be a local crisis
as enough community members from OSP
are not making it to hell.
The Head Demon asked for suggestions to remedy the situation.
One demon suggested telling the people
that there was no hell,
but he was quickly refuted,
pointing out the 49-76 season of the Whitesox,
the Cubs missing the playoffs a 2nd year in a row,
and then the Blackhawks … Bulls … and Bears…
Another demon suggested telling the OSP folk
that there was no heaven.
That was quickly shot down as well,
for they’re weekly nourished by great worship
and they have an Irish Pastor … .
Finally, one little devil in the back reasoned:
since we can’t convince them there is no hell
nor convince them there is no heaven,
maybe we can convince them there is no hurry.
We may not be in a hurry
— But St. Paul is
— A warming globe is
— Every child brutalized on our streets is
— And each innocent dying in a neighborhood that has become a warzone is
John Green is an unusually poetic and honest author.
You might know his touching 2014 novel
The Fault in our Stars.
In his succinct and sometimes blunt rhetoric, he reminds us
that the world is not a wish-granting factory;
that the world may be broken but hope is not crazy;
and that the marks humans leave are too often scars.
It is his reflections on “someday” however
that grabs my attention today. He writes:
One day, you’re 17 and you’re planning for someday. And then quietly, without you ever really noticing, someday is today. And then someday is Yesterday. And this is your life.
Today we accept the seashore summons of the Christ
that the time for discipleship is now.
That the time for standing up against prejudice
and warmongering is at hand.
That Someday is today … .
Let it be so, through Christ our Lord.