Dear God,

I know that You are weary of petitions but I ask that You hear me out despite my not being one of those created in Your image. After all, Your Book specifies that You look out for us animals just as You do for them (Psalm 36:6).

I am not a great fish in rebellion, God. I do not question the principle enunciated in Romans 9: 20-21 that You have the right, as Creator, to make Your creatures as You please just as the potter makes one urn to hold flowers and another for a trash can.

God, You did not make me an urn! You made me a great fish. In so doing, I believe You promised me — at least by implication — the life commonly expected by one of my kind.

It is certainly not a life without risk for no life is, either on Heaven (as some of your nasty angels discovered) or on this earth. I was always on the lookout for the bigger sharks, the stingrays, and other ocean hazards. I had no way of knowing when I opened my mouth to eat that all my dignity would collapse in the ensuing calamity.

Your Jonah could not be changed and his presence meant that nothing else could be digested either. This horrendous case of indigestion caused the chambers of my stomach to fill with gas which — oh! how it shames me to recall! — I expelled uncontrollably, both from my mouth and my nether portal. All the other sea creatures avoided me and made fun of me because of the terrible sounds and odors.

God, I did not know when my ordeal would end or even if I would survive it. I, who had always swum confidently among the other sea creatures, lived in terror that I would die in humiliation, leaving this earth as an object of ridicule for smaller fish.

Certainly, God, You have used other animals for Your Holy purposes but I believe that no other non-human earthling has served You in as demanding and onerous of a capacity as the one You assigned to me in disciplining Your Jonah. The she-bears You sent to punish the young scamps for mocking Elisha (2 Kings 2: 23-24) were rewarded by the agreeable nature of the chore: they enjoyed a succulent and tasty feast. The warm fullness of their stomachs provides a mighty contrast to the miserable condition of mine as Your man thrashed and pounded inside my belly. You did not assign them an ordeal that degraded them in the eyes of their fellows.

Now, Balaam’s ass (Numbers 22: 27) may argue that he suffered for Your sake–and perhaps he does indeed deserve some payment for his stinging . . . well, same word as his species title. But his pain was a matter of mere minutes. The moment of swallowing Jonah was, in and of itself, comparable to it. The hairy and multi-boned creature did not go down smoothly as a squid or small shark would, but irritated my throat something awful and left a disgusting sour taste on my tongue. And swallowing him was only the beginning of my ordeal. Moreover, in opening the ass’s mouth you lifted him up in the eyes of Balaam — quite a contrast to what you did to me.

I realize that Christian scholars consider my carrying Jonah analogous to Mary’s carrying of Jesus. They would probably declare my three-day chore trivial compared to her nine months. I beg to differ, God. The human female’s uterus is something You designed for pregnancy; a whale’s (what non-Biblical writers call us) stomach was not designed to carry a full grown and living man.

Perhaps more to the point, she has been richly rewarded for her service. God, I do not ask for anything like the status Mary enjoys.

However, I believe that I deserve compensation for my Holy Travail. Could You not designate a day of remembrance for me and perhaps command the building of a monument or two?

Your loyal servant,

The Great Fish (AKA, the whale)