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Speaking of Sin: "Anger"
As some of you may know by now, this year’s Lenten sermon series is about the Seven Deadly Sins. And, in case you’re keeping count, we’re closing in on those Seven Deadlies having already talked about five of them, - pride, envy and last week in one large dose – greed, gluttony and lust. We’ve seen that some of these sins are like two-sided coins. One side is healthy. The other side is deadly. One side of the coin is considered a vital, natural response; the other side is considered a deadly sin - a sin when this natural response gets out of whack, as David put it.
And, so it is with anger. The APA – the American Psychological Association – tells us that anger is a "natural, adaptive response to threats," an emotion that can run the gambit from "mild irritation to intense fury and rage.’"[1] An emotion or response, the APA goes on to say, that also has a physical component, - elevated heart rate, blood pressure and levels of energy hormones. We probably don’t need the APA to define anger for us though. I’d wager that at one time or another we‘ve all known anger – maybe even running the whole gambit from mild irritation to intense fury and rage. We’ve felt our hearts beat faster, our faces become flushed, and we may have even acted out of our anger in ways we later regretted. Since it’s Lent, and confession is good for the soul, I must admit that some of the worst of my anger seems to come out in traffic – and not just mild irritation either. But, don’t get too worried, my road rage stays in my heart which is bad enough. Yes, we’ve all experienced or encountered anger in some degree or another in our personal lives, in our professional lives and in our national lives. And, as I said, like some of the other seven deadlies – anger is paradoxical – it has a vital, good side and deadly, evil side. It can drive us to do our best – to address the wrongs around us – much like Jesus in the temple as we heard when I read to the children the story from John (2:13-16). On the other hand, anger can drive us to do our worst – our worst when the anger becomes blind rage, aptly named because it’s the kind of anger "in which we see nothing but ourselves."[2] And, as the former Dean of the Duke Chapel, William Willimon and others have commented, as Christians, we have far too little of the first – that is the anger that drives us out of our apathy to act against injustice – and far too much of the later – the rage that is blind to everything but self-interest.[3] So where does that leave us with anger? When, as Christians, is it o.k. for us to be angry? What are the rules for us? How do we know when we’ve crossed the line – when this paradoxical emotion becomes a deadly sin? And, what can we do about it? The "answer," and that is in quotes, is, as you would expect, found in scripture. And, to begin with, we look to Jesus’ life and realize the he became angry and very angry more than once - angry at the merchants in the temple who dared to misuse this holy place of worship - angry at the legalism of religious leaders that caused others to stumble; angry at the hard-hearts of the religious majority that blinded them from the suffering all around them. Jesus got angry - a righteous, right-spirited anger, a justified anger. So is this the answer? If our anger is justified like the anger of Jesus, then it’s o.k.? Well, sorry folks – the answer isn’t that easy. Even if our anger is justified or maybe even more particularly when it is justified, anger is still a slippery slope. Our anger can all too easily blind us to everything but our own self-interests. Our anger can all too easily become deadly not only to others but also to ourselves. Let’s look again at this morning’s parable of the father and his two sons. The eldest son was angry alright. And, he had a right to be angry – didn’t he? After all, he was the one who’d worked hard, followed the rules, remained loyal while the youngest son was out living it up in the most selfish and irresponsible way. Yet the father welcomed this youngest child back with joy, with celebration and with love. At the beginning of our reading, we find the oldest outside nurturing his anger. The father approaches him trying to explain the father’s love for both sons. Yet, at the end of the explanation, at the end of the story, as we have it at least, the oldest child is still outside. We don’t know what happens with this eldest and his anger. We don’t know if his anger keeps him locked outside and alone. We don’t know if the anger begins to foment a plot in the heart of the eldest against the younger brother. We don’t know if, perhaps, the anger is tempered because of the loving, forgiving example of the father allowing the eldest child to be able to join the family celebration and to join the warmth and love of his father’s house. We just don’t know how the story ends. The older son has a choice as do we. We are going to and, at times, we even need to get angry, as did Jesus, good and angry at injustice – a justified anger. Yet, in our anger – whether it is justified or petty, we need to learn from Jesus. Even in his anger, he never lost the ability to love and to forgive. Jesus loved the very people who had made him angry, even livid, we could say. Jesus loved these people, and he loved them even unto death. With his final breath, Jesus prays for these people, people like us. "’Father, forgive them; for they know not what they are doing’" (Luke 23:34). Forgive them, forgive them for they know not what they are doing. Jesus’ response of anger to the injustices he saw was divinely mixed with love and forgiveness, elements critical for keeping anger, our anger, our justified anger, from becoming deadly. And, that, friends, is the answer to our anger, be it large or small, be it in our personal, professional or national, our political lives. The side of the paradoxical coin of anger that keeps us from sin is love and forgiveness. I’m not here to say that we become passive milk toast or door mats – that wasn’t how Jesus lived. What the scripture tells us, however, is that we are to be very, very careful when we are angry. Our first reading from Ephesians warns us not to let our anger ferment and stew, not to let the sun go down on our anger. We are to be very careful that our anger is not fuel for the fire of the gods of self-interest that can so easily rule us. And, if anger – in any sphere of our lives - propels us to act, we need to know, we need to pray that we act only when the anger is tempered with love and forgiveness. Even the Defense Department’s War College recognizes this and warns its students that if we must take up arms against others, we do so only with very heavy hearts - a warning applicable in our daily lives as well. We need to be careful to avoid acting out of an anger that blinds us to anything but ourselves. We need to be careful to avoid acting out of an anger that keeps us from praying for love and forgiveness. This may all sound so impossible – anger that is tempered with love and forgiveness. So where do we start? The first thing we might do, as Holly suggested last week when she was cautioning us about envy, the first thing we might do is to slow down, take a deep breath, imagine that the breath is filling you with the Holy Spirit, and then exhale your anger. Inhale the Spirit, and exhale the anger. Then, in you mind’s eye, look up at the cross. Look at the cross first to see there a reflection of anger, to be reminded of our anger at its murderous worst.[4] And, then look back at the same cross to see there a reflection of love, to be reminded of God’s love at its magnificent best. We know on the cross a love that is so great that at a time when "justified vengeance" was most surely deserved, we received instead divine forgiveness. Father, forgive them. In his last breath, Jesus says, Father, forgive them. As Christians, we have the cross, not only as the perfect example of anger tempered with love and forgiveness, but also as the source of power that really does make that example possible for us mere mortals, for us mere human beings. William Willimon tells a story of just such a human being - a woman he met in Belfast, Northern Ireland, a woman whose husband had been blown up one morning in his car moments after kissing his wife and daughter good-bye. In response to Willimon’s question about how she was able to go on after this, the woman said, Well, that very moment, as I stood there over his horribly bloody body, I started saying the Lord’s Prayer. I got as far as ‘Forgive us our sins, as we forgive the sins of others . . .’ And, I said at that point, ‘Lord, you have forgiven so many of my sins. I will try to do that, but you’ll have to help me every day not to be destroyed by anger. Every day.’ And the Lord gave me that wonderful gift. I was able to forgive. I let God be angry with them, or punish them. I chose to forgive. The gunmen killed one of the most wonderful men in the world, and none of them was ever convicted of the crime; but my anger was not a match for God! God wouldn’t let the anger of it all kill me!"[5] An isolated story? Thankfully, literally thanks be to God, no, it’s not isolated. This story, with different characters and settings, is repeated again and again in this world, this world where evil still surrounds us, still threatens us. You may have read or heard this week about the three members of a Christian Peacemaking Team brigade who were rescued after being held hostage in Iraq since November. And, you may also remember that one of this brigade didn’t escape and, in fact, was found dead about 2 weeks ago – apparently the victim of torture before his death. After, the discovery of their dead colleague whose name was Tom Fox, the Christian Peacemaking Team organization issued this statement, "In response to Tom’s passing, we ask that everyone set aside inclinations to vilify or demonize others, no matter what they have done."[6] What an order – a divine order that tells us to rein in this paradoxical emotion of anger – to use it to address injustice, but to do so without vilifying, without demonizing those involved. Anger is so powerful, and it can either fill us with true righteousness or it can empty us of love, and the margin for error between the two is small and deceptive. Frederick Buechner, a prolific writer and former Presbyterian pastor, paints this picture to remind us that anger is a deadly business: Of the 7 deadly sins, anger is possibly the most fun. To lick your wounds, to smack your lips over grievances long past, to roll over your tongue the prospect of bitter confrontations still to come, to savor to the last toothsome morsel both the pain you are given and the pain you are giving back--in many ways it is a feast fit for a king. The chief drawback is that what you are wolfing down is yourself. The skeleton at the feast is you.[7] The skeleton at the feast of anger, Buechner warns, can be you, it can be me. As the woman in Belfast knew when she prayed to God over the bloody body of her husband, anger, and maybe more particularly justified anger, has the potential of destroying us, the potential of devouring us, leaving only a skeleton that does not love and cannot forgive – the skeleton of the child God intends us to be. The answer to this paradox of anger? The God who hung on the cross is the answer to our anger wherever and whenever it raises its head – in our homes, in our workplaces, in our legislative halls. God is the answer, even in the real world in which we live – a world of threats and violence that frequently tempts us to give in to an anger that can so easily destroy us. The answer is in making the God of Jesus Christ the Lord of our everyday, of our every moment. The woman from Belfast prayed, as we all need to pray, "’Lord, you have forgiven so many of my sins. I will try to [forgive], but you’ll have to help me every day not to be destroyed by anger. Every day.’" Everyday, we need to look up at the cross and see the battered body of Jesus and be very wary of anger at its worst. Everyday, we need to look up to the cross and hear the words of forgiveness and be empowered by love at its very best. This is a real love, a possible love, a love that is ours through Jesus Christ, our Lord, our Savior. It is the kind of love that allows us also to be able to pray, "Father forgive them." Now all glory be to God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit, now and forever. _________________ |
Darla
Blatnik