What does a right and good anger look like?
Yesterday, we chatted about Jesus’s episode in the Temple. It seems to be an example of a good and appropriate use of anger. I mean, Jesus is the embodiment of the divine, so if ever there was an example, right?
Aristotle too knows the place of a good anger:
“Anybody can become angry – that is easy, but to be angry with the right person and to the right degree and at the right time and for the right purpose, and in the right way – that is not within everybody’s power and is not easy.”
I asked the question: “What has to happen for us to get good and angry?”
I asked this question because I need this question. I know that James tells us to be slow to anger but I can find myself being so slow to anger that I just may never get there. And this harmful slowness to anger is created by, what I believe is the greatest hindrance to God’s kingdom being actively and vibrantly embodied today, apathy.
The woes of this world aren’t my woes and so I don’t care.
The cries of injustice aren’t my cries and so I don’t care.
The kiddos slipping through the cracks of our public education system aren’t my kiddos (yet) and so I don’t care.
The thirst of those dying from lack of access to clean water isn’t my thirst and so I don’t care.
This is what privilege does to us. Because I have lived a life of privilege, having whatever I need and being able to have whatever I want, it makes is really hard to understand the difficulties of those that do not have what they need and are not able to have whatever they want.
And that’s not how it should be.
In this season of Lent, this is what confronts me. I’m confronted with my privileged existence and the apathy that it creates. I’m confronted with my difficulty of feeling an appropriate response to the world that we live in. I’m confronted with my lack of anger that things are not as they should be.
What has to happen for me to get good and angry?
Peace to you,