- by Father Albert J Shamon- by Father Albert J Shamon
When Henry II of England saw the city of his birth seething in flames and was forced to flee from his enemies, lie cried out in anger: "The city I have loved best on earth, the city where I was born and bred - this, O God, to the increase of my shame. Thou has reft from me. I will requite as best I can. I will assuredly rob Thee of the thing Thou prizest most in me, my soul." This blasphemy, this unreasonable threat of self-damnation, had but one cause: anger.
Anger can make man do such unmanly things. To vent his anger, Montresor, in Edgar Allan Poe's The Cask of Amontillado, went so far as to bury alive his enemy, Fortunato, because of "the thousand injuries" Fortunato had heaped upon him. Anger, wrote Saint Thomas, is the vehement desire to strike back.
It is significant that Saint Thomas did not say anger is the desire "to get even"; but rather, the desire "to strike back." Anger, consequently, need not always be evil; in fact, it may at times be splendid.
If a mother, for instance, did not strike back the child that strikes her, the mother's love would indeed be something weak and vicious - unworthy of a mother. If Christ had not defended His Father's house and, in divine anger, driven out the money-changers. He would not have had the virtue of zeal. "Be angry and do not sin" (Ephesians 4:26).
But anger like that of Henry II and Montresor is as ugly as all sin. It is the anger of the clenched fist; the anger that strikes back not to correct or to defend what is loved, but to offend and to hurt what is hated. The red anger that brings the rush of blood to the face and fire to the eyes; the white anger that drives the blood down deep and blanches the countenance; the anger that has no reason in it but only revenge; the anger that lasts beyond a minute; that lets the sun go down upon it; that nurses its wrath to keep it warm; that seeks, like the poison-swelled snake, to sting wherever and whenever it can; the anger that meditates and contemplates, plans and plots, glows and gloats on how to get even, to give punch for punch, eye for eye, and lie for lie - that is the anger which is branded a capital sin.
That was the anger which Christ equated with murder when He proclaimed in the Sermon on the Mount, "You have heard that it was said to the ancients, 'Thou shalt not kill'; and whoever shall kill shall be liable to judgment. But I say to you that everyone who is angry with his brother shall be liable to judgment" (Matthew 5:21-22). The same sentence (judgment) for both crimes; if the punishments be the same, then are not the crimes?
Of course, anger does not seem that bad. The fact that anger can act in the name of justice gives it an air of respectability. Usually an angry person thinks he is giving another only what he deserves. But consider what anger does; judge it by its fruits.
Anger generates hatred; hatred begets quarrels; quarrels, name-calling, blasphemy and blows. Anger, in a word, is the enemy of peace. They cannot coexist. The anger that strikes back in revenge is always detestable; it is never justified - never!
First of all, one has no right to get angry. No mere man can read another's heart. (In fact, man can hardly read his own heart.) Yet, unless one can read the human heart, he cannot know for certain whether or not an injury has been inflicted. For an "injury" is not an injury unless it comes from the heart: no evil intended, no evil done. On the contrary, were one able to know all the circumstances entering into a human act, far from condemning, such a one would only praise. To know all is to forgive all.
Had we been on Calvary on the first Good Friday and seen the milling mobs, bellowing against the Son of God, we would have pontifically pronounced, "Guilty." But He, Who alone could read their hearts, cried out, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." That is why God said to leave judgment to Him. "Revenge is mine," says the Lord, "I will repay." He alone knows the human heart.
Sin, because it offends God, creates an infinite debt for the sinner; an injury, because it offends only man, creates merely a finite debt for the offender. God, like the monarch of the parable, forgives each sinner upon his mere contrite confession; He demands that we, unlike the merciless servant, emulate His largess. A person may not be able to fast, to pray long hours, or to endure martyrdom, but who cannot forgive? This one thing God demands of all!
A Chinese Emperor once said to his war lords, "After I have conquered this country, I will destroy all my enemies."
He conquered; but there was no slaughter of enemy leaders. To the astonishment of the Emperor's friends, the enemy were banqueted at the Emperor's own table.
Puzzled, the war lords remonstrated, "Did you not say you would destroy your enemies?"
"I have," answered the Emperor. "I have forgiven them all and have made them my friends."
That was the method in Christ's apparently mad meekness. He wants us to change the world - not by striking back, but by forgiving. Of all the virtues, Christ singled out especially two: "Learn of me for I am meek and humble of heart." Humility is the vertical virtue: it regulates man's relations with his God; meekness is the horizontal virtue: it regulates man's relations with his fellow man. Humility looks up to God; meekness looks across to neighbor. Humility lays the foundation for one's own salvation; but meekness, for his neighbor's salvation.
The modern world hates humility, because it confuses it with servility. It despises meekness, because it mistakes it for weakness. The world says, "Strike back; not to is cowardice." The meek Christ says, "Do not strike back; for that is strength." The world is all-wrong; Christ is all-right.
Not to be angry with those who hate and injure us is not easy - but it is Christian. "I say to you, love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who persecute and calumniate you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven."
- from the book Seven Roads to Hell and 'Ave Maria' magazine