Pastor's Corner: 15th Anniversary of 9/11

Matthew 5:21-26  

   Last Sunday was the 15th anniversary of 9/11. Perhaps it was a day that recalled, or even revived, dormant feelings of anger and desperation.

Certainly, when the World Trade Center Towers came down 15 years ago, many people in the country were ready for blood. And they got it. We had just cause for our anger. But what is a biblical response when we’re quite sure our anger is of the righteous variety?

For many of us, the visual impressions of terrorist horror were confined to the TV screen. Osama bin Laden and his henchmen had invaded our world. My anger smoldered for a few long moments before breaking into flame. Dread fantasies of military retaliation crossed my mind. This was real. This was personal. I felt the burn. No matter where we were on 9/11, all of us were in the thralls of anger. We gave ourselves over to its stifling, intoxicating embrace.

What are the long-term implications for a society dominated by the politics of anger? Or, to bring it home to a more granular level, what are the implications for a family dominated by an angry style of relating? Or for a community like Ferguson or Flint, for that matter, that has its own understandable anger issues?

“But I say to you,” says the Lord, “that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment; and if you insult a brother or sister, you will be liable to the council; and if you say, ‘You fool,’ you will be liable to the hell of fire” (v. 22). Jesus puts anger, here, in the same category as murder.

It seems a high, uncompromising and utterly impossible standard. Are there not some occasions when anger is truly righteous — when we’re permitted to launch expletives much stronger than “Fool!” at our enemies, and get a pass on the lake of fire?

Jesus gives no indication that’s true. He admits no gradations in anger. Cursing the other driver who stole our parking place appears to be in the same category, morally speaking, as spraying machine-gun bullets in a shopping mall. Our spirits rebel at his confounded consistency. As good as it feels to open the floodgates and dump a torrent of rage on someone who’s harmed us, the message of the Sermon on the Mount is: Don’t.

In treating this text, we preachers ought to be crystal-clear on one point: It’s not sinful to have angry feelings. Feelings are not something we can easily control. That primitive-but-effective programming imprinted on our genes will lead to angry feelings from time to time. The real question is what we do with those feelings.

There’s a wonderful word of instruction in Ephesians 4:26 that says, “Be angry, but do not sin. Do not let the sun go down on your anger.” The assumption is that anger is going to happen. No one can stop it. Yet we do have the power to decide not to brood over it. We can resolve not to go to bed angry, but rather to seek reconciliation.

Most doctors’ offices and medical facilities contain, in the treatment rooms, plastic boxes labeled “Sharps.” The sharps container is designed to be a safe repository for hypodermic needles, lancets and other medical implements that pierce the skin — and could potentially spread contagion.

Many of us believe we only have two choices when it comes to the disposal of emotional “sharps” — our angry feelings. We can either stuff them in or let them out. Neither one is a good choice, in most circumstances. We need a safer disposal method.

The consequences of letting anger rage unchecked are obvious: broken relationships, hurt loved ones and — eventually — social isolation. The simple truth is, habitually angry people end up having few friends.

The other easy, but inadequate, choice is to stifle angry feelings. In light of the teaching of Jesus we’ve been examining, this may seem at first to be a compassionate Christian response — swallowing the fire so that others will not be burned. In reality, though, everyone ends up being a victim.

When anger is internalized, it can lead to physical illness. It can also lead to mental disorders such as depression — indeed, one major psychological theory of depression is that it is anger turned inward. No: Stuffing angry feelings may have a certain usefulness in the short run, but in the long run it can be deadly.

Name it, claim it — and send it packing: Fortunately, there is another choice — a middle way — between the two extremes of losing our temper or stifling it. That middle way is to name the anger and send it away. Claim it. Own it. Then, send it away.

At first glance, this may seem an inconsequential choice — but it’s not. Naming is a very powerful psychological response. The writers of the Old Testament knew this particularly well. In their way of thinking, learning someone’s name gave you power over that person.

Remember when Jacob was wrestling with a mysterious human figure at the fords of the Jabbok (Genesis 32:22-32)? Jacob grapples with this powerful but mysterious stranger all through the night, until finally he extorts a blessing from him. He asks the stranger his name, but the stranger will not give it to him. Because of this, Jacob knows the stranger is God.

Centuries later, Moses is off on a hillside, watching over the flocks of his father-in-law, Jethro. He comes upon a bush that is on fire, yet is not consumed. A voice booms out from the burning bush, telling Moses what he must do to rescue the people Israel from Egyptian slavery. Knowing it is the Most High God, Moses asks the name of the one who is addressing him. Then Moses learns something his ancestor Jacob never did: “My name is ‘I Am That I Am.’” Armed, then, with the ultimate weapon — the very name of God — Moses is finally prepared to do battle with Pharaoh.

In much the same way, knowing anger’s name, and being able to speak it, is often the first step on the road to gaining power over it. Simply admitting, “I’m angry” — transforming a “you” statement into an “I” statement — is often the first step on the way to no longer being angry. It’s a strange thing, but anger is such a powerful emotion, it can be difficult to recognize from within. How often have we heard someone say, with gritted teeth, clenched fists and steam fairly shooting out of the ears, “I am NOT angry!”? Oftentimes, angry people try to shift the blame for their own emotions to others, claiming they were unreasonably provoked.

The fact is, anger is often a secondary emotion. It’s the stunted offspring of some other, primary emotion — one so troubling, it leads its victim to choose anger as the less threatening of the two choices.

Very often, the underlying emotion is fear. Many of us have long been taught to hide our fear, so we break out anger instead. The same thing can happen with sadness, or envy or jealousy. These emotions themselves can likewise feel threatening. So some of us, in response, deploy anger as a last, primitive line of defense.

     The key to dealing with many varieties of anger, then, is to search beneath the surface of the angry feelings and try to discern what’s really going on. Then, once we have identified those true feelings, we’re able to name them — and thereby gain power over them.

In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus isn’t telling us to despise and flee from the angry feelings that sometimes emerge from our subconscious — especially when someone attacks us. Like a sharp medical instrument, anger sometimes has its legitimate purposes. The goal is to learn to handle it, and dispose of it properly.

Maybe it’s time to drop the scalpel into the sharps container, and seek out ways to disinfect and bandage the wounds of our enemies. Anger may be a useful emergency response in an evolutionary sense, but it’s a poor guide for building a life together.

How easily we can move from calling our enemy “fool” to far more deadly descriptions! Maybe it’s time — in our individual human relationships as well as our national life — to dispassionately do what needs to be done to restrain the most blatant evil, while putting the greater part of our energies into building understanding.

Amen.

Pastor Michael O’Hearn

Kremlin and Goldstone Lutheran Churches