Yom Kippur Blogs Explore Jonah, Ethics, Community

Rabbi Yisrael Motzen argues that Jonah’s failure is rooted in mistaking divine constancy for a human ideal: unlike God, people are expected to develop and change over time.
Jonah is portrayed as finding comfort in the growth of the kikayon plant because it appears to restore a predictable order of cause and effect—planting, nourishment and growth—rather than because he needs its shade.
Grimsby’s Jewish population is now fewer than 20 people, but the town was once Britain’s third-largest centre of Jewish immigration after London and Hull, attracting refugees from Poland and Eastern Europe.
The history behind Grimsby’s Jewish community includes the 1255 Lincoln blood libel, in which 18 of 100 arrested Jews were executed in the Tower of London, followed by the expulsion of Jews from England in 1290.
The lottery debate draws on specific Jewish legal precedents: Tiferet LeMoshe, cited in Pitchei Teshuva (Yoreh De’ah 157:13), permits a lottery in some life-or-death situations, while Sefer Chasidim (§§65 and 679) describes sailors casting lots on a sinking ship.
As Yom Kippur approaches, Jewish bloggers are mining the Book of Jonah for lessons about human transformation and moral growth. Times of Israel blogs explore how Jonah's rigid worldview clashes with mercy and change—themes central to the Day of Atonement, when Jews reflect on personal accountability. Meanwhile, the ancient story raises a haunting ethical question: can a fair lottery justify sacrificing one life to save many?
The holiday also shines a light on fragile Jewish communities clinging to tradition. In Grimsby, England, fewer than 20 Jews now gather for worship in a town that once anchored Britain's third-largest center of Jewish immigration. Their persistence echoes the themes of resilience woven through Yom Kippur observance—the struggle to rebuild, repent, and endure.
Times of Israel blogger Rabbi Yisrael Motzen argues that Jonah's core mistake was treating unchanging divine nature as a model for human behavior. God's constancy—punishment for sin, reward for righteousness—is presented as absolute. But people are meant to grow. Jonah grew angry when Nineveh repented and was spared, because he believed the city deserved annihilation. He could not accept that others could transform, that mercy could override judgment.
Jonah's comfort in the kikayon plant—which grew overnight to shelter him from the sun—reveals what he truly craved: predictability. Not shade, but the restoration of order. Plant a seed, water it, watch it flourish. Cause and effect. No surprises. The plant's sudden withering shattered that illusion, leaving Jonah bereft and unable to accept that transformation and loss are inseparable parts of life.
The Book of Jonah raises a thorny ethics question barely discussed outside Jewish legal scholarship: when a group faces certain death, can a fair lottery decide who gets sacrificed? The rabbinical sources are surprising. Tiferet LeMoshe, cited in Pitchei Teshuva (Yoreh De'ah 157:13), permits a lottery in some dire situations. Sefer Chasidim (§§65 and 679) describes sailors casting lots to decide who should jump overboard on a sinking ship.
The logic is grim: saving nine lives by sacrificing one is mathematically preferable to losing all ten. Yet Jewish tradition holds that each human life is infinite and irreplaceable. No number of other lives can outweigh a single person's value. This tension—between utilitarian math and the sanctity of the individual—remains unresolved. Yom Kippur, a day of atonement and judgment, makes this dilemma feel especially urgent and morally raw.
Once upon a time, Grimsby was a gateway for Jewish refugees fleeing Poland and Eastern Europe. The town ranked as Britain's third-largest center of Jewish immigration, after London and Hull. Thousands arrived seeking work in the fishing industry and began building a thriving community. That era seems impossibly distant now. Today, fewer than 20 Jews remain in Grimsby, gathering for holidays and prayers in a nearly empty synagogue.
The path to decline runs through centuries of tragedy. In 1255, the Lincoln blood libel accused Jews of ritual murder—a lie that led to 18 executions in the Tower of London and terrorized Jewish communities across England. The final blow came in 1290, when England expelled all Jews from the kingdom. When they finally returned, Grimsby became a refuge. Now, the small congregation draws worshippers from across Britain for Yom Kippur, proving that even the smallest communities can preserve the tradition of return and atonement.
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