Scripture: Matthew 5:21-24
Preached 02/16/2014
Her name was Diana. She was 4, maybe 5—whatever age children are
when they start kindergarten. She had
short blonde hair, and she was big. I
was 4, maybe 5, also in kindergarten. We
were standing outside after recess, lining up to go inside. If any of you remember kindergarten, you’ll
remember that being first in line is a big thing. It’s where the cool kids stand, and you
definitely want to be up there, not in the back, where you have to wait forever
and follow. So we were lining up, and I
was going to get that first spot. I ran
with all my little kid might, and I made it to the first spot in line. And then, Big Diana came up behind me, pushed
me out of the way, and stole my awesome spot at the front of the line.
This was not cool. I had earned that spot at the front, and I
was going to keep it. So, depending on
whose version of the story you believe, I either just moved and stood in front
of her, or pushed her. My version is
that I just stood in front, so we’re going with that. And then, big, mean Diana pushes me out of
the way, again. And I think we continue
with this pattern for a while.
Eventually, one of the recess monitors sees us, and we both get in
trouble. We had to go to the office, and
get lectured, and then we had to stay inside for recess for a whole week or
two, which at the time seemed like
forever. It was all Diana’s fault. I
was mad.
And
what’s the point of this story from more than 20 years ago? Simply that I still remember it. I still remember what some mean girl did to
me one day more than 20 years ago. And
in my head, she’s still mean. If I met
big, mean Diana today, I would not want to be her friend. Because she’s mean. She got me in trouble, and I’m mad.
For more than 20 years, I’ve been carrying
this little bit of anger around inside me.
I don’t think of it very often.
It honestly took me days to remember when working on this sermon. But it is still there. I still remember the old story, and when I
relive it, I still feel mad. It’s not really that big of a deal though,
right? Because it’s not like I murdered
anyone or anything like that. . .
Let
me just say that by the first verse of the scripture passage read today, I’m
doing pretty well. Jesus says: “You have
heard that it was said to those of ancient times, ‘You shall not murder’; and
‘whoever murders shall be liable to judgment.’”
Check mark. I did not kill
Diana. I haven’t killed anyone,
ever. I’ve got this righteousness thing
down, huh? I’m following the rules
perfectly well.
But
then Jesus keeps going. Oh, Jesus. Jesus
and his words. His sermon on the mount
that just keeps on going. Right after
verse 21 where I’m feeling really good about myself. Yes, I have heard not to murder. Yes, I’m good at that. But then Jesus says that not simply not
murdering is not good enough. Jesus has
the audacity to keep talking, and to ruin my perfectly self-righteous
anger. In verse 22 he says “22But
I say to you 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.” I’m not doing so well anymore. Definitely angry. And even though I didn’t call Diana a fool, I
think calling her big mean Diana definitely qualifies as insulting her. .
. My self-righteousness is waning
quickly.
I’m
going to make a guess here. Every single
one of us may have felt our self-righteousness waning quickly as we heard Bill
read Jesus’ words to us. Because my
guess is that every single one of us, at some point, has held on to anger. I bet we’ve all even fallen into the trap of
insulting someone, even calling them a fool.
After all, the general cultural wisdom is that anger and resentment are
okay. They’re deserved, appropriate
responses even. And as long as we don’t
physically hurt them—even if we maybe insult them, even call them a fool, not
to their face of course-- then it’s okay to just hang on to that anger for the
foreseeable future. Who cares about a
little anger, right?
Well,
for starters, Jesus cares. I want to
emphasize that when Jesus is speaking about anger in our scripture passage, he’s
not giving us a new rule to follow. He’s
interpreting the existing Torah. And
instead of going by the letter of the Torah, what he focuses on is the
intention of it. And what he says, in this
section of his sermon focusing on anger and hurtful words is that the intention
of the law is not simply that we live with each other without killing off
people who anger us.
It’s
that we live with each other in real, healthy relationship. And anger, the kind of anger that can lead to
insults and maybe eventually even murder, is destructive to relationships. It’s
destructive to our relationships with ourselves and with others. You probably know by now that I think in
pictures and stories, so to explain what I mean, I have stories.
Let’s
start with how holding onto anger can hurt us.
A boy got angry pretty often. One
day, his mother told him that every time he got angry, he had to go outside and
hammer a nail into the fence in the back.
As the days went on, he learned to control his anger, and eventually
didn’t have to hammer any nails in the fence.
His mother told him that every day he went without losing his temper, he
could take a nail out. Eventually, every
nail was out of the fence. Then the boy and his mother looked at the fence
together. “What do you see?” she asked.
“I see holes.” He said[i].
Anger
punches holes inside of us. And when we
hold on to anger, it festers, and those holes get bigger. Until we can take out the anger, the wounds
it causes to us won’t heal.
How
does anger damage our relationships with others? Another story. A saint and his disciples came to a river
bank, where a family was shouting at each other. The saint asked his disciples, “Why do people
shout at each other when they get angry? The other person is still next to
them. They could just as well use a soft
voice.” The disciples came up with some answers, but none of them satisfied the
saint. So the saint said to them “'When
two people are angry at each other, their hearts distance a lot. To cover that
distance they must shout to be able to hear each other. The angrier they are,
the stronger they will have to shout to hear each other to cover that great
distance.[ii]” Anger damages our relationships with others
because it puts our hearts at a distance, and you can’t love when your hearts
are separated by that great distance that anger creates.
I
will be the first to admit that it’s hard to let go of anger. It’s like pulling the nail out of yourself,
instead of a fence. It’s like moving
your nail-wounded self next to a prickly cactus and hoping it doesn’t get poked
again. Long story short—it can be
unpleasant. But it is so important that
it’s worth the pain and the risk, because the pain and the risk of holding on
to that anger are even greater.
So,
to all of us who are holding onto anger, no matter how justified it may be, no
matter how big, mean, and wrong the other person may have been, Jesus has a
charge for us. Be reconciled. Drop whatever you are doing, even though it’s
probably important to. Go to that
person, if you can, pray it, journal it, or draw it out, punch a pillow, talk
to someone else. But get it out.
A
bit later in worship, we’ll have a chance to do just that—to get rid of the old
anger we’ve been holding onto. So for
now, spend a little time in silent reflection.
What anger do you have inside you that you need to let go? I’m giving you all these little pieces of
paper, and you can write or draw something that represents some specific but of
anger you’ve been holding. We’ll get to
what we’ll do with this anger in just a bit, but as you reflect, know that God
has healing and restoration in store for you.
(if you want to re-create the activity, we simply tore up the paper with our anger represented on it, and then recycled it, asking and trusting God to make something new and better out of the old anger we released)
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