THE POLLUTION THAT IS ANGER

 

trash-dump fire, similar to the Hinnom Valley

 

 

`You heard that it was said to the ancients: Thou shalt not kill, and whoever may kill shall be in danger of the Second Court;

²² but I -- I say to you, that every one who is angry at his brother shall be in danger of the Second Court, and whoever may say to his brother, Empty fellow! shall be in danger of the Sanhedrim, and whoever may say, Naval! shall be in danger of the Hinnom Valley’s Great Trash-dump Fire.

²³ `If, therefore, you bring your Qorban to the altar, and there remember that your brother has anything against you,

²⁴ leave there your Qorban before the altar, and go -- first be reconciled to your brother, and then having come bring your Qorban.

²⁵ `Be agreeing with your opponent-at-law quickly, while you are still on the way to court with him, so that your opponent may not deliver you to the judge, and the judge deliver you to the officer, and to prison you be cast;

²⁶ Indeed I say to you, you may not come forth thence till that you pay the last penny.’ (Matthew 5)

 

The above translation is based on Young’s Literal Translation, but modified by terms explained in the Real Yeshua blog’s invaluable posts on Yeshua’s Teachings on Anger. I will try to summarise these here.

            The opening sentence shows the audience that what follows is a completion of the old Torah’s commandment against murder. Whoever commits murder will deserve to be judged by the higher Beth Din, of 26 judges (the Lower had three judges).

            BUT I SAY – this initiates the New Torah’s completion of the old: the reinterpretation in the key of inwardness which, if it is followed, will make its followers more righteous than the scribes and Pharisees. Three stages of anger are discussed.

            Simple anger at one’s brother/neighbour is the equivalent of murder. Why? Because it opens a Pandora’s Box and can lead to murder. To a scriptural Jewish audience this would have called to mind humanity’s first murder, and would thus have identified the present discourse as a commentary on the story of Cain and Abel.

            If one calls one’s brother/neighbour raka – an empty fellow, useless, of no value – one is contradicting the Creator, who has created him in His own image, and thus committing a blasphemy, to be judged by the Sanhedrin, the highest Court.

            If one calls one’s brother/neighbour naval, one likens him to the naval who in Isaiah and in the Psalms says ‘There is no God’ and therefore denies that God does tov (all that is good, beautiful and healthful for Creation). This is the ultimate blasphemy, and means that he who utters it deserves to be thrown on the burning, stinking trash dump in the Gey-Hinnom, the Hinnom Valley outside Jerusalem – but which also functions as a metaphor for the destination of those rejected by God at the Last Judgement.

            These three points are an increasing emphasis on the importance of one’s inward condition and attitude towards one’s neighbour. Nothing is trivial, says Yeshua. A tiny mustard-seed can become a great bush. Simple anger, if untended or even fed, can end in murder, blasphemy and denial of God and His love. 

 

Now comes a further step, an image not readily understood by modern readers unfamiliar with the customs of Yeshua’s time and place. 

            A qorban is an offering, of which there were many kinds, and the rules for them were multiple and complicated. The bringing of qorbanot to the Temple was a form of drawing near to God, and for repairing one’s relation to Him. It was a regular part of Jewish life. To bring a qorban, a Jewish man had first to go to the Temple’s double gates (where he could see and smell the Hinnom Valley) and have it examined. The he had to go the ritual-bath complex and be purified by immersion supervised by priests. Following that he had to pass through the Court of the Gentiles, pass the Beautiful Gate, cross the Court of Women, pass the Nicanor Gate and enter the Court of Israel. Here he would wait until he was called by a priest; and when he was, he would finally bring his qorban to the altar and perform his part of the ritual.

            So that when Yeshua talks of remembering ‘at the altar’ that one’s relation to one’s brother was still polluted by an offence of anger (whether the brother is aware of this or not), and then leaving one’s qorban there, at the very altar itself, and going back through all those steps to go and find one’s brother and repair one’s offence against him, before finally coming back through all those stages again and actually offering one’s qorban – this is extreme. At the very last minute. 

           But it is crucial. Why? Because, says the Law, God cannot accept your qorban, your offering, and thus cannot grant you His forgiveness, unless you genuinely regret your offence and have obtained the victim’s forgiveness.

 

            And finally, another metaphor. If you are on the way to court with your neighbour who has lodged a complaint against you, you are well advised to obtain his forgiveness before you get there. Otherwise you will have to face the full legal consequences to the limit of the penalty; whereas if you obtain his forgiveness before you get to court, he can and will cancel the complaint.

 

Both these great images emphasise the point of Yeshua’s sermon on the sin of Anger or Ira: it is the root of all violence and thus, as the later Church called it, a capital sin, a sin that is truly Deadly.

 

PERHAPS TO SING

HYMN

(tune: Melcombe)

The daily round, the common task

Are not enough for what we ask:

No Martha chose to cook the meal;

The hours of thought are what we steal.

The world is too much with us yet:

We little give and little get;

We lean to keep an even keel;

The hours of thought are what we steal.

Images swirl and whorl and sway

And tempt our eye to fill our day;

We see the world behind the wheel --

The hours of thought are what we steal.

The shouted words of angry men

Pretend that hell is come again

And order us to think them real;

The hours of thought are what we steal.

In hush of waking, barely heard,

Comes murmuring the living Word;

Rich thieves, in gratitude we kneel:

The hours of prayer are what we steal.

R.K.

(with a hat tip to John Keble and William Wordsworth)

MIRACLES

Fr Alexis Helg

 "Woe to you, Chorazin! Woe to you, Bethsaida! For if the miracles had been performed in Tyre and Sidon which occurred in you, they would have repented long ago, sitting in sackcloth and ashes. But it will be more tolerable for Tyre and Sidon in the judgment than for you.…” (Luke 10:13-14)

This, today’s reading in the Catholic (and now Anglican also) Lectionary, received an excellent comment in the admirable Prions en Eglise booklet from Fr Alexis Helg, a Swiss religious in the Order of St John. He writes about reacting to miracles, which clearly the cities St Luke mentions got wrong. Do we, he wondered, get it right? Can we discern miracles when we see them?

This got me thinking. First: as we know, the Age of Miracles is over. What that means I doubt if anyone is quite sure. I suppose, in a way, they were (or were seen as, or were – as in Chorazin -- not seen as) a sort of Close Encounters of the First Kind: something overwhelming and against all we know of the laws of Nature. Six large amphorae of water suddenly turn into Chambolle-Musigny; a blind man suddenly becomes sighted; a paralytic takes up his camp-bed and dances down the road singing; a man several days dead comes lurchingly to life. And hundreds of ordinary bystanders see it happening, and the news goes viral. That was then; this is now. I don’t want to go into the 19^th-century style rationalist “explanations” of the miracles; if I can believe Christ rose from the dead I can believe the others. But that was then, this is now. Why did that Age end?

Perhaps a better question is: why did it happen in the first place? If, as we now believe, God does not suddenly appear on all the world’s video screens, overwhelming the planet, because He is love and that is not the way love works; if love can work only in freedom of response; then why bother with all those miracles back then?

One possible explanation is that they were a result of the Hypostatic Union, i.e. of the unique combination of divinity and humanity in Yeshua Bar-Yousuf, the carpenter from Nazareth alias Son of God. Imagine his very human burst of feeling upon seeing an exhausted paralytic begging in the dust and 110º heat, or upon  hearing that one of his best friends, still young, was dead. We can share that; what we can’t share is that in God, Will is Act: so when he feels it, something happens: the poor bugger gets up and walks, Lazarus stumbles forth, blinking.  

(One of the alarming but often likeable things about Jesus’ humanity is his fits of sheer temper: the passage from Luke above surely is one, as, I suspect, is the terrifying passage about bringing not peace but a sword, and the Great Whupping of the merchants in the Temple.)

This explanation of the miracles would explain why they ceased (though not why one or two generations of Apostles still managed them). Now, says Fr Helg astutely, we need to look more closely around us to see miracles, and when we do see them, we need to learn to connect them with God as we live in a world that does not do so naturally. But – I would ask Fr Helg – how should we so connect them? If we do not believe that God micromanages creation – and we need to not believe this in order to stay sane: does God allow Daech? does God allow the suffering of terminal Parkinsons patients? is sickness punishment for sin? --, then how should we connect the miracles we may observe with Him?

I don’t have an answer for this, or not a reasonable one at least. The one thing that occurs to me is that our unconscious sometimes understands things for which our (and I mean our collective) reason is not ready. When we see a miracle, something in us may connect it with God, and if that happens, we instinctively give thanks. That instinct may some day be justified by a new understanding that our minds can confirm; meanwhile, it may be a deep truth implanted in our human spirit by a Spirit rather more Divine. 

UNDERDOGS UNDER GOD

            All over the Western world, the Near East, the Middle East, what in Britain is known as South Asia, Australia and elsewhere, there is a marked rise in various forms of populism. I remember asking my father, when I was a teenager, why populism was such a Bad Thing. After all, we believe in democracy, which means rule by the people. So why is finding out what people really think and want, and ruling accordingly, not to be countenanced? And my sainted father (whose intelligence, good sense and limpid explanations I still miss 12 years after his death) patiently explained that people in the mass and their ideas (feelings, usually) in the raw all too easily constitute a mob; and that proper democracy provides the filters of representation and time: elections and the interval between them. It also entrusts the actual responsibility of governing to those who, we hope, are better educated for the task.

            He was right, of course; and yet the problem of populism, and the problems that underlie populism, remain. Most obvious among is the frustration, even the anger, that fuels this current. A French journalist recently showed that in his country this anger, which pushes an increasing number of people to the far-right National Front, aligns with a certain demographic: the “petits Blancs”, the “little white people”: those who have little education, who are in the front line for job loss, who have small and precarious incomes, and who see not just the world but their world changing from year to year. (NB: in other parts of the world, these look different – the “Arab Street”, for example – but their feelings are the same.) They don’t understand the changes and even when they think they understand them they don’t like them. Their children or grandchildren don’t do well in school, but nobody accords them the indulgence and the extra help that (they feel) the children of dark-skinned immigrants get. And when they express these frustrations, the “cultural elite” – not just the politicians, but the intellectuals, academics, and media -- just looks down on them, calls them reactionary or fascist, and basically tells them to shut up. The political Left and Far Left, which used proudly to represent the underdogs, no longer represents them, so they drift off to the Far Right which at least tells them it’s listening and that they aren’t always Wrong.

            What can be done about this? The first thing, from a Christian point of view, is to recognise that they are people, that they are God’s children, that they are hurting, and that they are in need. When we do that, we realise that the next thing is to listen, without impatience and without arrogance. Once we have listened, we can perhaps begin a conversation, since they will have noticed that we don’t look down on them. And in such a conversation, certain points can perhaps be gently raised. Example: almost everyone who dislikes a certain group of people – an ethnic group, a nationality, a social class, a professional group – will make an exception for one or two individuals, or families, from that group that they know personally. That’s a start. Perhaps some volunteers running ultra-cheap and cheerfully friendly courses on specific and practical modern-world problems would help: these already exist, here and there. Priests and ministers can help, by on the one hand showing that the Others are images of our Saviour, who died for them, and on the other hand being extremely firm about certain kinds of behaviour among their congregations. (In the Central African Republic, the Catholic Archbishop and the Imam work together closely, but I haven’t yet heard the former thundering against the murderous militias who call themselves Christians.)

            As for the problems of the economy and job losses, they too may need an approach that allows for some additional values. To cite my father again, his field of interest and research was “the Social Responsibility of Business”. (He was both an economist in a multinational and a university professor.) Nothing could be more topical in this day and age. The business of business is business, true: but as a French thinker wrote recently, perhaps today’s business people should be more involved in politics. Then they could help work out a model of society that manages to maintain well-run corporations without “downsizing” at the drop of a share, and that can create new technologies that do not always end up replacing manpower. That, as the World Council of Churches has long recognised, merits the creation of serious thinking on “Church And Society” which, if goodwill can be created on all sides, could replace the corrosive antagonisms that pollute the air.

            Sometimes the underdogs are not (only) who we think they are, or who the media have selected for the role. And charity, i.e. love, should go where it is needed.

Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace;

Where there is hatred, let me bring love;

Where there is offence, let me bring pardon;

Where there is error, let me bring truth;

Where there is doubt, let me bring faith;

Where there is despair, let me bring hope;

Where there is darkness, let me bring light; 
And where there is sadness, let me bring joy.