Beskrivelse: Jona-figur-b

 

JONA

- en barneandakt av Harald Kaasa Hammer

(CREDO 15/1977 / Knattholmen 2012)

 

 

Jeg skal fortelle om Jona.

Han levde flere hundre år før Jesus ble født. Jona var profet. En profet er en som får et spesielt budskap fra Gud å gå med.

Nå satt Jona på en haug utenfor den store byen og gråt. Gud var hos ham. “De vil ikke tro på meg,” sa Jona. “Etter det som er skjedd, vil de ikke tro på meg.”

“Det er ikke så farlig om de ikke tror på deg,” sa Gud. “Nå tror de jo på meg.”

“Jeg visste det ville gå slik,” sa Jona og pustet tungt. “Åhh, det har skjedd så mye de siste dagene. Jeg skjønner ingen ting.”

“Nei,” sa Gud rolig. “Bare gråt du.”

 

Jeg skal fortelle hva som hadde skjedd. Det er litt rart. Jona var den eneste profeten som opplevde at folk hørte på ham, og vendte om. Men Jona ville gjerne være som de store profetene, sånn som Jesaja og Esekiel. Dem var det ingen som hørte på.

 

Noen dager før hadde Gud kommet til Jona og sagt: “ inn i den store byen og si at de må vende om. De er så onde mot hverandre. Jeg kan ikke se rolig på det lenger.”

“Å, nei!” sa Jona. “Det kan jeg ikke. De vil ikke høre på lille meg. Hvem er vel jeg?”

“Jeg har sendt deg,” sa Gud.

“Ja, men hør nå her! Tenk på hvem du sender da, hvem vil høre på det jeg sier?”

Men Gud sa ikke mer. Han hadde sagt nok.

 

Jonas kjente at han ble helt tom inne i seg. Redd ble han også. Så solgte han huset sitt og eselet sitt, og begynte å gå mot havet.

Han gikk først gjennom Ninive, den store byen. Han kjente at han fikk vondt inne i seg. I en grøft lå en mann og gråt. Kongen hadde tatt gården hans. Oppe fra et vindu hørte han en kvinne som skrek - og brølene fra mannen som slo henne. Midt i en klynge av barn, lå en liten stakkar og snufset neseblod.

“Å, Herregud, de tenker bare på seg selv alle sammen,” sa Jona.

“Ja, alle sammen,” sa Gud.

Da lukket Jona munnen, for han forstod hva Gud mente.

 

Jona kom seg ned til havnen i Joppe, og gikk og så på båtene.

“Hvor skal du hen, da?” spurte Gud.

Åhh, kan du ikke la meg være alene!” knurret Jona.

“Vil du det?” spurte Gud.

Jona klarte ikke å svare, og gikk oppgitt videre.

 

Han så en lasteskute, som hadde heist flagget til Tarsis, og spurte om å få være med. Den gang var de redde for passasjerer som hadde farlige guder etter seg, så skipperen spurte først hvem Jona var og hva han skulle.

“J-jeg heter e-- Petter,” sa Jona. Så gjorde han seg kjekk. Han dultet skipperen i siden og fortsatte: “Jeg skulle se om dere hadde en bedre gud borte hos dere.”

Jasså?” hvisket Gud i øret hans.

“La meg få fred!” tenkte Jona.

“Freden har du hos meg,” hvisket Gud. “Du ser jo at du må begynne å lyve og bedra så snart du går bort fra meg.”

Jona hadde ikke noe å svare nå heller.

 

Skipperen smilte, og ville gjerne ha ham med som passasjer. Så seilte de av sted.

Men da de var kommet ut på havet, kom det en voldsom virvelvind. Bølgene slo inn i båten, så den holdt på å fylles. Men Jona lå og sov på en pute bak i båten. Mannskapet vekket ham og sa til ham: “Petter! (De visste jo ikke hva han egentlig het.) Petter! Bryr du deg ikke om at vi går under?” Da reiste Jona seg og så at vinden og sjøen truet.

Og han så alle øynene som stirret på ham.

“Ja, det er sant,” sa han fortvilet. “Det er min skyld. Det er jeg som rømmer fra guden min. Dere får kaste meg over bord, så berger dere livet.”

Men det skulle han ikke ha sagt. For de gjorde det med en gang.

 

Der lå Jona og plasket og harket og hostet og spyttet midt ute på havet. Stormen var stilnet, og han så skipet gli langsomt bort i kveldsbrisen.

“Å, Herregud!” skrek Jona, og plasket med armene.

“Ja,” sa Gud.

Da ble Jona så forskrekket at han sank igjen.

“Herre, hjelp!” hostet han da han kom opp igjen.

“Ja,” sa Gud.

Jona trådde vannet.

Så steg et fjell opp av havet. Det sto en svær vannstråle til værs, og Jona så rett inn i et grådig gap. Nå var alt håp ute.

“Herre, du sa jo at du skulle hjelpe!”

“Ja,” sa Gud.

“Men ser du ikke at jeg blir slukt?”

“Jo. Jeg gjør det på min måte, jeg.”

“Du pleier det,” sa Jona. Men så rykket han til: “Du har vel ikke tenkt at hvalen skal sluke meg?”

“Jo,” sa Gud.

Men da fikk Jona panikk. “Du vet vel at ingen kan overleve i en hvalmage!” ropte han.

“Denne hvalen har jeg sendt,” sa Gud.

 

Så fosset Jona inn i hvalgapet. Han ble sugd ned gjennom halsen, og kastet rundt i hvalmagen. Jona var roligere nå, men han slo seg både her og der.

“Nå er du trygg, for nå er du i min plan,” sa Gud. “Nå har du fred.”

“Fred? Sa du fred? Jeg slår meg både gul og blå, --- og grønn blir jeg i fjeset.” Jona kastet opp. Og så sukket han til Gud: “Jeg har hørt at alt skulle være glede og fred og lovsang hos deg, jeg.”

“Å, nei du,” nå var det Gud som sukket. Og sukket runget gjennom den store hvalmagen. “Du er trygg hos meg, fordi jeg er sterkest. Men så lenge det er ondskap og sorg i verden, har jeg det vondt, og da vil de som er hos meg ha det vondt også.”

 

I tre døgn ble Jona ristet og knadd i hvalens mage, - men så begynte hvalen å hoste.

“Kanskje jeg har smittet deg,” smilte Jona. Men han smilte ikke lenge. Han ble slengt ut gjennom halsen, og PLASK ned på en sandstrand. Der lå han og dro pusten, fillete og forslått, og lurte på om han levde.

Etter en stund klarte han å løfte hodet.

Han likte ikke det han så.

Tak, tårn, Ninive, den store byen.

Og han som trodde det var over nå.

“Du gir deg ikke,” sukket Jona.

“Pleier jeg det?” spurte Gud.

 

Jona gikk inn i byen, innover og innover. En hel dag vandret han forbi gråt og sorger, forbitrelse og forbannelser. Han gikk fremover mot lyder i det fjerne: sang og trommer, basuner og harper. Det var fest på slottet. Kongen hadde nemlig fått tak i det siste jordstykket i landet. Nå eide han alt.

Jona glemte helt å se seg for, og gikk rett på kongens vaktmann. Vakten grep Jona i den fillete skjorta og brølte: “Hvem tror du du er?”

“Jeg? - Jeg er Jona, Guds sendebud til kongen. Han må vende om.” Jona hørte seg selv si det.

"Ha!" sa vakten. “Den var god,” sa han. “Den må kongen få høre!”

 

Vakten tok Jona med inn i tronsalen. Kongen måtte le da han fikk se den fillete sveklingen midt mellom alle de stivpyntede gjestene.

Kongen løftet hånden til stillhet. Dette kunne bli morsomt.

Jona stotret og stammet: “Jeg skulle hilse fra Gud og si at Ninive må vende om. Ellers må han ødelegge byen.”

Kongen stirret på Jona. Lenge.

Damene begynte å fnise. Mennene flirte.

“Stille!” brølte kongen.

“Gå hjem alle sammen. Festen er slutt.”

 

Da kom statsministeren bort til kongen: “Hva går det av deg?” spurte han.

“Du,” sa kongen. “Hvis det hadde kommet en mektig, myndig profet - sånn som Jesaja eller Esekiel - da hadde jeg sagt: ‘Ikke blås deg opp!’ - Men denne sveklingen her! Han hadde aldri turt å komme hit av seg selv. Gud må ha sendt ham! - Kall hele byen til omvendelse. Jeg skal også omvende meg. Halvdelen av det jeg eier skal jeg gi til de fattige, og har jeg presset penger av noen, skal han få firedobbelt igjen.”

 

Så satt Jona der utenfor byen. Han forstod ingen ting. Her hadde Gud kalt ham til profet, og så hørte de på ham! Folk pleide ikke det. Jona kunne ikke annet enn å gråte.

“De vil ikke tro meg! De vil ikke tro at det var sant det jeg sa, når byen ikke blir ødelagt likevel. Jeg visste at du ikke ville ødelegge den byen.”

Jasså,” sa Gud.

 

Da lot Gud et tre vokse opp over Jona, der han satt i solsteiken. Jona tørket bort svetten. Han smilte opp mot treet og de tette bladene. Han tørket tårene og hadde det godt.

Da lot Gud treet visne.

Jona gråt over treet.

“Hvorfor er gledene så korte hos deg, Gud?”

“Jona,” sa Gud stille. “Du gråter over dette treet, som ikke er ditt en gang. Skulle ikke jeg gråte over alle menneskene i denne byen? De er jo mine. Og så alle dyrene da! De er også mine. - Si meg en ting Jona: Ville du virkelig at jeg skulle ofre dyr og mennesker, bare for at du skulle bli en profet som de andre profetene?”

“Du har alltid rett du, Gud,” sa Jona.

“Ja,” sa Gud.

“Jeg gråter likevel jeg,” sa Jona.

“Ja, gjør det du,” sa Gud. “Nå er du hos meg. Og nå er du i min plan.”

 


 

JONAH, told by Harald Kaasa Hammer                   (Credo 15:1977, translated 1996)

 

I want to tell you about Jonah. He lived several years before Jesus. He was a prophet. A prophet is a man who carries a special message from God. People hardly listen to prophets.

Jonah was sitting on a hill outside the big city. He was crying. God was with him. “They won’t believe me,” he said. “After all that happened, they won’t believe me.” “Does it matter?” God asked. “Does it matter if they don’t believe you? The fact is that now they believe in me!”

“I knew it would end up like this,” Jona sighed. “So much has happened these last days. I am not capabel to understand it.”

“No,” God comforted him, “but it helps to cry, my friend.”

 

Would you like to know what had happened? After all, it is quite odd, the whole story. You see, Jonah was the only prophet ever who experienced that people followed his warnings. That’s why he was so confused. Jonah wanted to be like the great prophets.

 

Some days earlier, God came to Jonah and said, “I want you to go into the great city of Niniveh, and tell the people to make amends. They are so cruel to each other. I cannot bear it any longer.”

“Oh, no, please no,” Jonah said. “I can not do that. They won’t listen to me. Who am I?”

“I am sending you,” God said.

Jonah protested: “Wait a minute! Consider who you are sending. Who will listen to what I say?”

But God gave no argument. He had told Jonah enough.

Jonah got quite empty. Empty and afraid. He sold his house and his donkey and started to walk towards the sea.

 

First he walked through the great city of Niniveh. He was hurt by what he saw. In the ditch lay a man, crying. The king had taken his farm. Out from a window he heard the scream of a woman, and her yelling husband trashing her. In a crowd of shouting children, a little boy sniffed the blood from his nose.

“Oh, Lord, they are just thinking of themselves all of them,” Jonah whispered.

“Yes, every single of them,” God answered.

Jonah shut his mouth. He had got the point.

 

Jonah reached the harbour in Joppa, and went along the quays looking on the ships. “Where are you supposed to go?” God asked.

“Oh, leave me in peace,” Jonah murmured.

“Do you want me to?” God asked.

Jonah had no answer. He closed his ears and went on.

 

Atop a freighter he saw a Tarshi flag. He went up to the captain and asked if he would take him on as a passenger. Back then, people feared strangers, who could be running away from dangerous gods. So the captain asked Jonah for his name and his purposes.

“Eh, my name is eh P-peter,” Jonah stuttered. Then he made himself more brave, slapped the captain on his back and winked his eye at him: “I would like to see if you have a better god back where you live.”

The captain stared at him some seconds.

God whispered to Jonah: “So that’s what your up to?”

“I said I wanted peace,” Jonah muttered.

“Only by me you will have peace,” God said. “You can see for yourself, how you start to lie and cheat as soon as you leave me.”

Again, Jonah had nothing to object.

The captain, however, was not aware of voices inside Jonah. He felt that Jonah would be a good passenger, and let him on board.

 

The ship set sails, and went out of the harbour. But then a furious squall came up, and the waves broke over the boat, so that it was nearly swamped. Jonah was in the stern, sleeping on a cushion.

The crew woke him and said to him, “Peter (they did not know his real name), don’t you care if we drown?”

Jonah got up an was rebuked by his conscience. “It is true,” he said i despair, “it is me beeing hunted by my God. You’d better throw me into the sea, so you can survive.”

He should not have said that. They did it at once.

 

And there in the middle of the sea he splashed, spitting and coughing. The wind had died down and it was completely calm, and the ship glided away in the smooth evening breeze.

But then he got panic: “Oh, Lord!” he cried.

“I am here,” God said.

That frightened Jonah even more, and he sank with lifted arms. “Lord, help me!” he coughed when he reached the surface again.

“I will,” God said.

Jonah treaded water, waiting.

 

Then a huge mountain rose next to him. An immens jet of water was sprouted up in the air. Jonah looked into an enormous set of jaws. Now the end had come!

“Lord, you said you would help me!”

“Yes, I did,” God said.

“But don’t you se I’m close to be swallowed?”

“I’m doing things my way,” God said.

“You usually do,” Jona said. But then he panicked again: “Do you mean the whale to swallow me?”

“I do,” God said.

“But don’t you know that nobody can survive in the whales stomack?”

“I sent this whale,” God said.

 

A big wave sloshed Jonah into the chops of the beast. He was thrown through the throut, and found himself in the bottom of the belly. He was calmer now, though he was badly bruised all over his body.

“Now you may relaxe,” God said. “You are back in my plan. Now you have peace.” “Peace!” Jonah laughed scornfully. “Do you call this peace? I’m beaten black and blue, and green of sickness.” Jonah vomitted. “I was told that by you people should experience happiness, joy and songs of praise.”

Now it was God in term to sigh. His sigh echoed in the great whale stomach. “You are told wrong, Jonah. You are safe with me, because I am the stronger one. But as long as there is evel and unjustice in the world, I suffer and worry, and so will my companions, if they ceep close to me.”

 

Jonah spent the next three days and nights in the whale’s big belly. Then the beast began to cough. “Are you infected by me?” Jonah laughed. But it was no time for jokes. Jonah was thrown out of the throat, and smashed down on a beach. Once more he thought he was dead. He lifted a finger, a hand, and raised his head. He did not like what he saw. Roofs, towers - the great city of Niniveh.

“You don’t give up easily,” he sighed.

“Do I ever?” God said.

 

Jonah entered the city. He walked and walked. A whole day he walked through crying, cursing and despair. From far away he heard a sound: singing and trumpets. The king celebrated at his great castle. He had taken the last piece of land. Now he was the owner of every square inch of the nation.

 

Jonah did not watch his steps. He bumped into the kings guard.

The guard grabbed Jonah by his raggy coat and yelled: “Who do you think you are?” “I-I-I am Jonah, a messenger of God. He sent me to the king, to make him make amends.”

The guard rocked in a rough laughter. “Oh, that’s a good one. The king must hear this one!”

He pulled Jonah into the great hall where lots of guests surrounded the happy king on his throne.

 

The king burst into laughter when he saw the poor creature in the midst of all his splendour. He raised his hand, and the hall fell silent. “Hi, you wommit!” he shouted. Jonah, still dangling in the grip of the guard, stuttered his mission: “I bring you a message from God. The people must repent. If they don’t, he will destroy the city.”

The king gave Jonah a long look. The ladies of the court began to giggle. The men were sneering.

“Silence!” the king shouted. “Go home, everybody. The party is over.”

The guests were paralyzed.

The prime minister went up to the king: “What’s with you?”

“Look,” said the king, “if one of the great prophets had come with such a message, an Isaiah or a Jeremiah, I would have told them to cool down. But this wretch here. He would never dare to come here by his own. God must have sent him. So. Tell all the people of the city that they must make amends. Half of my possesions I will give to the poor, and if I have cheated anybody out of anything, I will pay back four times the amount.”

 

And now, Jonah is sitting on the hill, looking out over the city. He did not understand a thing. God made him a prophet, and then the people listened to him. They shouldn’t. They did not do so to the great prophets.

Jonah could not help crying. “They won’t believe me. They won’t believe what I said, when the city will not be ruined. I knew you would not ruin it!”

“You did what?” God asked.

 

God made a three grow up over Jonah to give shade for his head. Jonah dried his sweat. He looked up at the three and smiled. He dried his tears and felt comfortable. Then God let the three wither. Jonah wept over the three. “Why are the joy so short by you, God?”

“Jonah,” God said, “you are crying over a three that does not even belong to you. Shouldn’t I then cry over the people of this city? They are mine. Tell me, Jonah, did you really want me to sacrifice them to make you a great prophet?”

“You are always right, aren’t you, Lord?” Jonah said.

“Yes, I always am,” said God.

“I cannot help crying,” Jonah said.

“You do that,” God said, “you are mine.”