Ninecheese repented. The windows opened, the baskets swung down on ropes, the king turned his nine keys before the people, and the whole cold city ate at one table three days long. And it displeased Jonah exceedingly, and he was very angry; and he prayed the most honest prayer in scripture: I knew that thou art a gracious God, and merciful, and puttest extra cheese on for them that deserve it least – therefore I fled; for being right, saith the scroll, was the last hoard Jonah had not opened.
Beloved, examine thyself here, for this is the tenderest trap in the religious life. There is a mercy we preach and a mercy we resent – resent, because it is spent on them. The relative who wounded us and now wants Christmas. The colleague who wrecked things and landed softly. The ledger-men eating garlic bread as though they had always meant well. Some part of us sits on the east side of the city, arms folded – which is the wrong fold entirely – hoping yet for a collapse, that we might be right.
And the Lord’s question follows us up onto that hillside: Doest thou well to be angry? Jonah’s answer, when it finally came, is ours to borrow: Thine arithmetic is mercy, and mine was a ledger, and I have been a ledger-man of the heart all my days, as it is written in Jonah, 10:7.
Close the ledger, beloved. Not because they deserve it – that was never the currency – but because the freezer thou keepest thy grievances in runs off thine own warmth. Amen – and pass the pizza.