5 min read

Jonah's Sailors Threw Cargo Before They Threw Him

The sailors on Jonah's ship were not cruel men. They tried their idols, cast lots, jettisoned their cargo, and rowed for shore before they touched him.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. Seventy Nations in One Hull
  2. The Captain's Questions
  3. What the Sailors Tried Before They Touched Him
  4. What Happened to the Sailors After

Seventy Nations in One Hull

The ship was full before Jonah boarded it. Full in a way that goes beyond the count of bodies below decks. Legends of the Jews, in its gathering of the midrashic traditions around Jonah's voyage, describes the vessel as carrying representatives of the seventy nations of the world, each man traveling with the idol of his people. When the storm struck, the hull became a test chamber for the gods of the ancient world.

Each group prayed. The Egyptians called on their gods. The Persians called on theirs. The Greeks and the Lydians and the people of every sea-trading nation raised their voices to the powers that, in their understanding, held dominion over water and wind. The storm did not lessen. The waves climbed higher. Every idol was silent.

This is not incidental to the story. The ship is the world in miniature, and the storm is the question every nation's theology has to answer: when you need the power you have been worshipping, does it come? The answer the storm gave was silence and rising water.

The Captain's Questions

Jonah was asleep in the hold when the captain found him. Asleep during a mortal storm, which Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer reads as its own kind of statement about the depth of the prophet's flight. He was not merely traveling away from God. He was unconscious of it, sunk so far into his refusal that the world nearly ending above him did not wake him on its own.

The captain's questions, once Jonah was on his feet, are the questions of the whole ship. What is your occupation? Where do you come from? What is your people? They are also the questions the storm was asking, except the storm was asking them with water rather than words. When Jonah answered, when he said I am a Hebrew and I fear the God who made the sea and the dry land, the captain understood. The sailor understood. The men who had been praying to their silent idols understood.

What the Sailors Tried Before They Touched Him

Even with the lot fallen on Jonah, the sailors did not throw him overboard. Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer is specific about the sequence. They tried first to row to shore. The sea drove them back. They threw their cargo into the water to lighten the ship. The storm did not ease. They threw their possessions. Nothing.

Then, in the account from Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer's description of the sailors' approach, they tried something stranger and more agonized. They lowered Jonah into the water up to his knees. The sea calmed. They pulled him back up. The sea raged again. They lowered him to his waist. Calm. Back up. Rage. They were not brutal men looking for a convenient sacrifice. They were men trying every possible alternative before accepting the conclusion the water kept giving them.

Only when there was no other option did they let him go entirely into the sea. And when they did, the water stilled immediately, and the men on the ship stood in the silence of a miracle and knew what they were standing in.

What Happened to the Sailors After

The tradition in Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer does not leave the sailors on the water. When they saw the wonders worked for Jonah, when they watched him sink and the storm break, each of them threw away the idol he had been carrying. The verse from Jonah quoted in the tradition says they that regard lying vanities forsake their own shame. The sailors who had represented all seventy nations arrived at the end of the voyage without their gods.

According to some versions in Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, they did not stop there. They returned to Joppa, went up to Jerusalem, converted, and brought offerings. The men who had prayed to silent idols in a storm became the men who had personally witnessed the cost of running from God and the power of God's hand over the sea. It began with Jonah trying to escape a mission. It ended with seventy representatives of the nations walking toward the Temple.

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The texts this telling draws on, in full. Open a card to read inline, or expand it for a wider, quieter read.

Legends of the Jews 8:21Legends of the Jews

Let me tell you a story about a literal boat, a literal storm, and a prophet named Jonah.

The familiar story centers on Jonah and the whale (or big fish, depending on the translation!). But before the fishy business, Jonah found himself on a ship packed with people from all seventy nations of the world, each clutching their own idols. As Ginzberg retells it in Legends of the Jews, these weren't just any travelers; they were representatives, delegates of entire civilizations!

The ship, of course, ran into trouble. A fierce storm descended, threatening to swallow them whole. Desperate, these representatives made a pact. They decided to appeal to their various deities. The deity who answered their prayers, who brought salvation, would be declared the one true God.

Here's the thing: silence. No booming voices from the heavens, no miraculous calm, just the relentless roar of the storm. Nothing.

And where was Jonah in all this chaos? Asleep. Sound asleep, down in the hold of the ship. Can you imagine? Everyone else is frantically praying, and he's catching some Z's. (Maybe he was trying to avoid his divine mission? More on that later…)

The captain, understandably frustrated, finds Jonah and wakes him. "We're about to die!" he shouts, more or less. "And you're sleeping? Tell me, who are you? What's your story?"

"I am a Hebrew," Jonah replies.

The captain's ears perk up. "We've heard that the God of the Hebrews is the most powerful," he says. "Pray to your God! Maybe He'll perform a miracle for us, like He did for the Jews at the Red Sea!" Even amidst a storm, surrounded by representatives of seventy nations, the reputation of the Hebrew God, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, preceded him. The captain remembered the story of the Red Sea, the miraculous parting of the waters. He knew of a God who intervened, who acted in history.

And so, the stage is set. Jonah, the reluctant prophet, is about to be thrust into a situation where he can no longer run from his destiny. Will he pray? Will his God answer? And what about those other gods, the idols of the seventy nations? Will they finally speak? The answer, as we know, involves a very large fish, but that's a story for another time.

But this initial scene, this boat filled with desperation and the faint glimmer of hope in an ancient miracle, makes you wonder: What storms are we facing today? And who are we turning to for salvation? Are we looking to idols, or to something… more?

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Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer 10:4Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer

The story picks up with Jonah fleeing God's command to preach repentance to Nineveh. He boards a ship, hoping to escape his divine assignment. But, as we quickly learn, you can run, but you can't hide – especially not from God.

They had traveled just a day's journey when, suddenly, a mighty tempest arose. The sea raged around them. Now, here’s a curious detail: Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer 10 emphasizes that other ships nearby sailed on in peace. Only the ship carrying Jonah was in mortal danger. The text echoes the verse from the Book of Jonah (1:4): "But the Lord sent out a great wind into the sea, and there was a mighty tempest in the sea, so that the ship was like to be broken."

What do you do when disaster strikes? According to Rabbi Chanina, as quoted in Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, the ship was full of people from seventy different nations, each with their own god. Imagine the scene! Each person clutched their idol, fervently praying for salvation. "The God who shall reply and deliver us from this trouble, He shall be God," they cried. But their prayers, as the story tells us, "availed nought."

Where was Jonah in all this chaos? Sound asleep! Overcome by anguish, he'd retreated into slumber. Can you imagine the audacity? Or perhaps the despair?

The captain, desperate, finds Jonah and confronts him. "Behold, we are standing betwixt death and life, and thou art slumbering and sleeping; of what people art thou?" he demands.

Jonah confesses, "I am an Hebrew" (Jonah 1:9).

The captain, recognizing the significance, exclaims, "Have we not heard that the God of the Hebrews is great? Arise, call upon thy God, perhaps He will work (salvation) for us according to all His miracles which He did for you at the Reed Sea." He's remembering the Exodus, the parting of the Red Sea – a powerful evidence of God's might.

But Jonah's response is startling. He doesn't offer a prayer. He doesn't plead for divine intervention. Instead, he says, "It is on my account that this misfortune has befallen you; take me up and cast me into the sea and the sea will become calm unto you" (Jonah 1:12).

He takes responsibility. He acknowledges that his actions, his attempt to flee from God, are the cause of the storm. He offers himself as a sacrifice to save the others.

What a powerful, if unsettling, moment. What does it mean to take responsibility for the chaos we create? To recognize that our choices have consequences that ripple outwards, affecting those around us? Is Jonah's solution the right one? Is self-sacrifice always the answer? The story, of course, continues, but this initial encounter raises profound questions about accountability, divine will, and the interconnectedness of our lives. What do you think?

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Legends of the Jews 8:22Legends of the Jews

The story of Jonah in Jewish tradition is a powerful exploration of guilt, responsibility, and the ripple effect of our actions. It's a story that resonates even today.

The familiar version gives us the basics: Jonah is commanded by God to preach repentance to the people of Nineveh, but he tries to run away. He boards a ship, and a terrible storm arises. The sailors, desperate, cast lots to determine who is responsible for their misfortune. And, of course, the lot falls on Jonah.

In Legends of the Jews, compiled by Louis Ginzberg, the other passengers initially refuse to throw him into the sea. They see it as a cruel act. Imagine the scene: these hardened sailors, facing their own mortality, still clinging to their sense of humanity.

Even after the lot points to Jonah, they try everything else first. They throw the cargo overboard, hoping to lighten the ship and appease the storm. But it's no use.

Then, they turn to Jonah, and even then, they hesitate. They plead with God, saying, "O Lord of the world, reckon this not up against us as innocent blood, for we know not the case of this man, and he himself bids us throw him into the sea." It's a fascinating attempt to absolve themselves of the guilt of sacrificing one man for the sake of the many.

But it doesn’t end there. The sailors, still reluctant to condemn him to death, try a series of immersions. They lower him into the water, first up to his knees. According to the legend, the storm ceases. They pull him back in, and the storm returns. They repeat the process, lowering him up to his navel, and then up to his neck. Each time, the pattern repeats: immersion brings calm, removal brings renewed fury.

This reminds me of situations in our own lives. Sometimes, we try to address a problem superficially, hoping it will go away. We dip our toes in the water, so to speak. But unless we fully confront the issue, the storm within us, or around us, continues to rage.

Finally, the sailors are convinced that Jonah's transgression is the true cause of their peril. They abandon him to his fate. The moment he is thrown into the water, the sea grows calm.

It's a dramatic moment, and a stark reminder of the consequences of our actions. While the story focuses on Jonah’s disobedience, it also highlights the struggle of ordinary people caught in the wake of someone else's choices. What responsibility do we have to each other when one person's actions threaten the whole group? How far do we go to avoid making difficult, even painful, choices?

The story of Jonah doesn't end here, of course. He's swallowed by a great fish, repents, and eventually fulfills his mission to Nineveh. But this particular episode, the storm at sea, leaves us with a powerful image of human hesitation, divine justice, and the interconnectedness of our lives.

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Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer 10:5Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer

Jonah, told to prophesy to Nineveh, tries to flee from God's command by hopping on a ship. But a massive storm hits, threatening to sink everyone. And that's where our passage picks up.

The sailors on this ship? They weren't exactly eager to throw Jonah overboard. Rabbi Simeon tells us that they refused at first. Instead, they cast lots, hoping to find another reason for their misfortune. But, wouldn't you know it, the lot fell upon Jonah.

Still, they hesitated! These weren't cruel men. They tried everything else first. Desperate, they started tossing their belongings into the sea, anything to lighten the ship and calm the storm. Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer emphasizes their efforts, but "it availed nought." It didn't work.

They even tried to row back to shore, fighting against the raging sea. But, as the Book of Jonah itself says (1:13), "Nevertheless the men rowed hard to get them back to the land; but they could not." They were trapped.

Finally, they were left with no other choice. They approached Jonah, standing on the edge of the ship. According to Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, they cried out to God, acknowledging their dilemma: "God of the world! O Lord! Do not lay upon us innocent blood, for we do not know what sort of person is this man." They were about to throw a man overboard, but they wanted to make absolutely sure they weren't committing a terrible sin. They were pleading for understanding, for forgiveness in advance. They admit they don't know Jonah, they don't understand why this is happening, but they're desperate.

And then comes Jonah's chilling confession: "…and he says deliberately, On my account has this misfortune befallen you." He takes responsibility. He knows he's the cause.

It's a powerful moment, isn't it? A moment of truth, of accountability. It raises so many questions. What would we do in that situation? Would we take responsibility for our actions, even if it meant sacrificing ourselves? Would we have the courage to face the storm, both literally and figuratively?

The story of Jonah, even in this small excerpt from Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, reminds us that our choices have consequences, not just for ourselves, but for everyone around us. And sometimes, the only way to calm the storm is to confront the truth within ourselves.

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Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer 10:6Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer

The story of Jonah is a powerful exploration of just that feeling, and how sometimes, sacrifice – even unwilling sacrifice – can bring calm to the storm.

The familiar version gives us the basic story: Jonah, told by God to prophesy to the great city of Nineveh, tries to run away. He boards a ship, and a terrible storm erupts. The sailors, desperate, cast lots to figure out who's to blame. And the lot, of course, falls on Jonah.

Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, a fascinating early medieval Jewish text, gives us a particularly vivid and disturbing version of this part of the tale. Imagine the scene: The sailors, convinced Jonah is the cause of their troubles, don't just throw him overboard right away. They try a kind of excruciating, incremental approach.

First, they throw him into the sea only up to his knees. Did the storm abate? Yes it calmed down. Relief, perhaps, flickered on their faces. But then they pulled him back on board. And immediately, the sea went wild again.

Can you imagine the terror? The desperation? The sailors, clinging to the hope that they could appease the raging ocean. Jonah, caught between the fury of the storm and the actions of the desperate men.

So, they tried again. This time, they threw him in up to his neck. The waters calmed once more, offering a brief respite. But again, they hauled him back onto the ship, and the storm raged anew.

It's a brutal image, isn't it? This agonizing back and forth. It highlights the sailors' desperation, their unwillingness to fully commit to the act, and perhaps even a sliver of remaining humanity. They don't want to kill him, but they are convinced he's the problem.

Finally, they have no choice. They cast him in completely. And then, and only then, did the storm cease. "So they took up Jonah, and cast him forth into the sea: and the sea ceased from her raging" (Jonah 1:15). The verse is so simple, so direct, after such a torturous build-up.

What does this incremental approach add to the story? It emphasizes the magnitude of Jonah's perceived guilt, the sailors' wavering resolve, and the sheer power of the divine will expressed through the storm. It's not just a quick toss overboard; it's a prolonged moment of agonizing decision-making, highlighting the gravity of the situation.

It leaves you wondering, doesn't it? About responsibility, about sacrifice, and about the lengths people will go to when they feel threatened by forces beyond their control. And perhaps, about the consequences of trying to run from your destiny.

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Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer 10:10Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer

Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer turns to Jonah's Miracle.

Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, a fascinating and often imaginative work of aggadah – Jewish storytelling and folklore – fills in some of those gaps. It paints a vibrant picture of what happened after Jonah’s little swim inside a marine mammal.

The sailors, having witnessed all the signs, miracles, and “great wonders” that the Holy One, blessed be He, performed for Jonah, had a massive change of heart.

In Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, "they stood and they cast away every one his God, as it is said, 'They that regard lying vanities forsake their own shame' (Jonah 2:8)." Imagine the scene! These sailors, likely from different backgrounds and with different beliefs, all simultaneously ditching their idols. That's powerful stuff.

But it doesn’t stop there. The story continues that they sailed back to Joppa – that's Yafo today, a port city in Israel – and then made their way up to Jerusalem. And here’s where it gets really interesting. They underwent circumcision.

The text says, "They returned to Joppa and went up to Jerusalem and circumcised the flesh of their foreskins, as it is said, 'And the men feared the Lord exceedingly; and they offered a sacrifice unto the Lord' (Jonah 1:16)."

Now, the text then asks a question: “Did they offer sacrifice?” The answer is a bit of wordplay. The sacrifice, it explains, refers to "the blood of the covenant of circumcision, which is like the blood of a sacrifice." In other words, the act of circumcision itself is seen as a sacrificial offering, a physical commitment to this new faith.

And it doesn't end with just them. The text goes on to say, "And they made vows every one to bring his children and all belonging to him to the God of Jonah." These weren't just individual conversions; they were pledging to raise entire families in this new faith. They made vows, and crucially, they performed them.

The story concludes that these sailors were the "proselytes of righteousness." That’s a striking phrase, isn’t it? Gerei tzedek (גֵּרֵי צֶדֶק), proselytes of righteousness, a term for converts who fully embrace Judaism.

So, what do we take away from this addition to the story of Jonah? It highlights the power of witnessing the divine, the potential for profound change, and the ripple effect that one person's experience can have on countless others.

It reminds us that the story of Jonah isn't just about a prophet and a whale. It's about faith, transformation, and the enduring possibility of finding meaning, even in the belly of the beast. And sometimes, the greatest miracles aren't just about saving one person, but inspiring a whole new community of believers.

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