Why did I even notice this?

It's strange how some of the funniest things in life are incredibly sad. Tonight on the subway I saw a man stumble onto the train. At first I assumed he was drunk, but he sat across the hall from me and didn't seem it, so he must have just been tired or something.

He was just kind of minding his own business, eating a McDonald's cheeseburger. He took a bite, then when he went to take a second bite, it fell out of his hand onto the floor.
He looked down at it, and I thought he was going to swear under his breath or something, like I would have done, but he just stared for a minute, like that cheeseburger was his one last joy, and he dropped it on the floor. It was honestly like something out of a silent movie.

Taking on, not giving up.

Before I came to Tyndale, I had heard of Lent, but knew absolutely nothing about it. Being raised in a conservative Protestant home you get a lot of iconoclasm like that. Man, do we hate Catholicism. When I came to Tyndale, George Sweetman talked about the purpose of Lent, which I've forgotten most of, but now I at least know that it's 40 days before Easter, it starts on Ash Wednesday, and it typically involves giving up luxury items or pleasures of some kind, something that's important to you or habitual.

That year I gave up alcohol, forgetting that St. Patrick's day falls within the Lenten season. But I don't do a whole lot of drinkin' so it wasn't a big deal for me, and I didn't really reflect on God or whatever during those times I wasn't drinking, so in the end I just saved a bit of money for Lent, I guess. I haven't observed Lent the past few years, because I didn't really see the point. One time a man asked me what I gave up and I smugly told him "abstinence and sobriety". On the one hand, I don't have a lot of habits or other things that would be considered vices or luxury items or pleasures. None really come to mind, and I don't see the point in giving up something trifling.

Today I was talking with a friend who gave me a new perspective on Lent. Too many people, he says, see Lenten vows as something like New Year's resolutions, a distinct and measurable point in time where you made a sacrifice, turned over a new leaf, as it were. This is what I had always thought it was, which is part of the reason I wasn't really feeling Lent this year. But he suggested that Lent for him is not necessarily giving something up, but taking something on, for the sake of Christ. He told me that this year he has purposed to take on reading Scripture every day for Lent, and I have decided to do the same.

Wait a sec.

Quick digression from thinking about anger.

Things are right in my world. I have deep, solid relationships. I’m on track for graduation. I’m learning, thinking, reflecting and loving. So why do I feel miserable and restless? Why do I feel awkward and unfamiliar? Why doesn’t it feel like I care about anything? My immediate reaction is that now, after a very long time, I am not caught in a fight of one kind or another, and that’s throwing me off. It might be that now that I have some time to relax, I don’t know what to do with myself. I’m not putting things off so that I can go to bed, I’m going to bed, wondering if there’s something I’ve forgotten to worry about. I guess I’m not used to not having problems. I’m used to not letting problems bother me; I’m used to trying to live most fully in the midst of problems and conflicts, almost to spite them, but now it seems like the fight is over, and I have all this adrenaline going to waste.

Anger Part I, How to Miss the Point

OK, it's been a long time comin' but I came; coulda drove a fella crazy but I'm sane.

The first in an as-yet-to-be determined series of discussions on anger. I had to dig into more Greek than I had, so it took awhile. This post is going to address some things that I came across as I thought about this. I've listened to more than one or two sermons on the topic, and spoken with a couple of people, and I'm very dissatisfied with how most Christians understand anger. In conversation, two examples, and no others, came up again and again. Maybe I need to find new friends. The first was the teaching in Ephesians 4:26-27: Be angry and do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, and give no opportunity to the devil. The principle that seems to be assumed here is that anger is good, but must be mastered, and directed towards the appropriate target, namely, the things that get God angry.

The second example I got a lot was John 2:13-17: The Passover of the Jews was at hand, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. In the temple he found those who were selling oxen and sheep and pigeons, and the money-changers sitting there. And making a whip of cords, he drove them all out of the temple, with the sheep and oxen. And he poured out the coins of the money-changers and overturned their tables. And he told those who sold the pigeons, "Take these things away; do not make my Father’s house a house of trade." His disciples remembered that it was written,"Zeal for your house will consume me." Again, people never fail to point out that in Jesus' anger, he remained level-headed enough to make something, and again, that his anger was directed towards offenses against God.

Despite the unoriginality, I have a couple problems with the interpretation of these two passages. In the first place, I have a difficult time believing that Jesus took all this time that people characterize him taking to fashion a whip. It seems more likely to me that he walked into what was essentially a marketplace, saw the situation, and grabbed a couple of the ropes that were inevitably hanging around, what with all the tents that were in a typical marketplace, and just went Indiana Jones on the whole scene (scene, from Greek skene, meaning tent. I thought that was funny). So yeah, Jesus' "constructive" anger, I don't buy it.

Second, a lot of people seem to think that Ephesians 4:26-27 is some kind of magic formula for being angry. That is, you can be angry if the following conditions are met: don't sin; don't be angry for long. I think that this interpretation is due to a couple of things. First, and at the root, is fallen humanity's self-interest. We like to nurse grudges, we like to feel offended and wronged, because it makes us feel good about ourselves and better than the person who offended us.

The reason for this and other misunderstandings is partly one of translation. I am indebted to Colby Brown for his grammatical treatment of this passage, and a fuller discussion of its implications. The Greek word that Paul uses in Ephesians 4 is ὀργίζεσθε(orgizesthe). It is a present, passive imperative word, so a correct translation is "being made angry". The corollary to that is the present active imperative, μὴ ἁμαρτάνετε (me hamartanete). This is to be translated "stop sinning", i.e. stop letting the sun go down on your wrath. Being made angry, stop sinning. This is not a permissive maxim for dealing with anger. Rather, I think that Paul is recognising that, yes, you will be made angry. You ought not to be, but it happens. But stop sinning in anger. Don't nurse your grudges, don't harbor bitterness and rage in your hearts.

And why? The whole of Ephesians 4 is about unity in the body of Christ. It includes several references to unity, building up, mutual edification, being joined together, neighbours, and the antithesis to those, alienation. Finally, it culminates with the exhortations of 4:26 & 27 to stop sinning in anger.

So where does that leave me in my anger? I think I'm on the hook for it. At least for the kind of anger that is self-interested and vindicating. There is something to the fact that Jesus became angry, and next, I want to look at the differences between righteous and unrighteous anger. Just what does it mean to be angry at the things that offend God?

Explorations in Anger

A series of meditations on the right nature and expression of anger in Christian life. Coming soon.