Toward a Public Theology of Anger

Many of us who were raised in the church were taught that anger is wrong, a sin or some kind of moral failure.  I was taught that “forgiveness” is the response to being wronged and, to make things worse, it was not “ladylike” to be angry. 

It creates baggage.

Jesus, however, got angry.  In the same day he cursed a fig tree, even though it wasn’t the season for figs, he turned over the tables of the money changers in the temple (Mark 11:12-25).  Guess Jesus was having a bad day.  Hey, it happens.

Jesus’ anger is encouraging because it validates that anger is a human emotion, part of what it means to be created in God’s image. So, how do we reconcile the whole “be nice” thing with the reality of being angry?

Simple:  be angry but do not sin (Ephesians 4:26). Yes, there is a difference between being angry and sinning.  There are some things that should make us angry: injustice, abuse, prejudice, all the “isms”, oppression and a host of others.

The larger context of the verse is important.  It’s about stepping out from behind what is false and speaking the truth in love.  We know all too well how anger stews and festers and then comes out sideways in a hurtful and inappropriate way. I’m guessing we all have some experience in that wheelhouse.

Speaking the truth in love is the base for healthy interpersonal relationships. It is also the foundation of a public theology of anger.  It is troubling to see an increase in the kind of vile talk, name calling and vitriol that dominates public conversation.  The occupant has set a low bar for human interaction. As a consequence, we are pretty good at rage, not so good at anger.

If we read our bibles and are paying attention, the values we espouse as followers of Jesus are seriously in jeopardy. But just getting mad and going off on a rant is not helpful, as fun as it may be.

More importantly it shows a lack of understanding of the issues and an unwillingness to engage them in a meaningful way. Genuine anger about an issue is very different than unarticulated vitriol.

Anger harnessed for righteousness changes things.  Anger harnessed for ego destroys things.

There is plenty to be angry about in these days. The feelings of powerlessness can be overwhelming. If we focus on our powerlessness, we remain immobilized. Being immobilized means our egos are leading the dance. We are silent because we are afraid, because it may not make a difference, because we worry about what others may think. These are maladies of the ego, and the ego has no place in the work of righteous anger toward what is wrong. If we allow our egos to win and remain silent, the dominant narrative wins. All that we think is wrong in our society will win. All that we grouse and gripe about will not change.

A public theology of anger is rooted in speaking the truth in love: articulating what is wrong, why it is wrong, and having a sense of righteous indignation that leads to action. Righteous indignation is not self-righteous indignation; it is a spiritually rooted pain for the pain of another.  It has roots in compassion.  It speaks with power and with love and not with vitriol. 

Creating a public theology of anger requires deep righteous indignation at the wrongs perpetrated against those who have the fewest resources to fight back.  It requires harnessing the human emotion of anger to work on behalf of others. So, “be angry, but do not sin.”

There comes a moment in righteous indignation when you can do nothing BUT act, when silence is no longer an option, when the wrong is stronger than fear of failure, when ego takes second place to the inner moral compass. If we focus our righteous indignation at the situation that is wrong, we will be energized to act. These days are filled with rampant injustice. The voice of righteous indignation is urgently needed.

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