May The Sun Not Go Down: A Reflection on Anger

Anger is one of those sins we tend to turn a blind eye to when we are the ones harboring it. It's easy to justify, but hard to see in ourselves, and we really have to look closely the way a scientist might like for a virus under a microscope.

In times of stress, I think men tend to struggle more with anger, and I am no exception. Unfortunately, those in our household become the targets of directed anger--our wives and children and sometimes our parents. St. Thomas Aquinas says that we are typically angry in the face of some injustice done to us, and that what especially provokes anger is the element of contempt or scorn in the one who does us some wrong. That was the case in our house tonight. Anger and resentment against my wife was smoldering all day for various slights, and I had been yelling at my kids all day (and even our dogs, much to the chagrin of St. Francis I'm sure), and as time for seven o'clock Mass came around, I fought the temptation to bag it and crawl into bed and took my son to church with me instead. I didn't even get the chance to reconcile (even with Daylight Savings Time), as it is written: "In your anger, do not sin. Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry, and do not give the devil a foothold." (Eph 4:26)

St. John Bosco wrote to his priests who held responsibility for the orphan street boys in their care: "They are our sons, and so in correcting their mistakes we must lay aside all anger and restrain it so firmly that it is extinguished entirely. There must be no hostility in our minds, no contempt in our eyes, no insult on our lips. We must use mercy for the present and have hope for the future, as is fitting for true fathers who are eager for real correction and improvement."

It was Palm Sunday, the last Sunday during Lent leading up to Holy Week. I was drained as David and I sat in the pew, him clutching the palms that signified the entrance of Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem, riding on a donkey. I felt like it wasn't even right for me to be there, since "anger does not produce the righteousness that God desires (James 1:20). Paul admonishes the Ephesians who were fathers "not to exasperate your children; instead, bring them up in the training and instruction of the Lord."  It felt more like going to a hospital to be healed of a sickness then going to a temple to glorify God.

When I would attend Mass before I was a member of the Church, it would be so hard to sit in the pews as everyone would go up for Communion. But tonight I knew it would be wrong for me to approach the Lord in the Eucharist with this anger. We let everyone pass by us, since I was convicted by the words of Jesus "Therefore, if you are offering your gift at the alter and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there in front of the altar. First go and be reconciled to your brother; then come and offer your gift." (Mt 5:23-24)

As we approach Holy Week, I really do believe that they Devil intensifies his attack on us. Anger, rage, malice, slander, filthy language (Col 3:8)...I'm guilty of it all. Sometimes it's like a whack-a-mole at Dave and Busters--you knock one sin back in its hole, and others pop up ten fold. That's why the Christian life is not one of simply self-improvement, but a humble submission to the one who forgives ALL our sins through grace and confession of sins, both those conscious and unconscious, who "remembers them no more." (Is 43:25)

Holy Week is a time of intense self-examination to root out and ask the Lord to bring to light all that which rots our spirit and weakens it the way termites weaken the frame and foundation of a house. The more we ignore it, the more we think "I'm basically okay" sitting in the family room, they are at work below the surface, slowly and steadily chewing away at that which holds up our house. We can ignore it for a time, but we will pay the price for it.

 

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