"Taking the 6th Commandment to Heart"

First Presbyterian Church
November 5, 2006
Peter S. Buehler
Exodus 20:13; Matthew 5:21-26

But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister,
you will be liable to judgment…"

We didn't know which news story was more shocking. First, that on October 2nd an armed man entered a one-room Amish schoolhouse in Nickel Mines, PA, shooting ten girls -- ages 6 to 13 -- killing five of them, then taking his own life. The explanation that he hadn't been the same person since the death of his infant daughter nine years before, and that he had been angry at God, didn't make the killings any more comprehensible, only more tragic.

But the second news story from nickel mines was as shocking, perhaps more so. It was about the Amish community's forgiveness of the man who killed their daughters. And it was not just words. As Donald Kraybill reported in last week's Christian Century, "Fresh from the funerals where they buried their own children, grieving Amish families attended the October 7 burial of the 32-year-old non-Amish killer, Charles Carl Roberts IV. Of the 75 in attendance, at least half were Amish. The Amish families greeted Mrs. Roberts and her three children. She was deeply moved by their presence, according to eyewitness accounts. Plans were set to continue the conversation between the families of killer and killed. And forgiveness was more than a graveside presence: the Amish helped establish a fund for the assassin's family" (October 31, 2006, p.8).

How did they do it? We tried to imagine being in their shoes and couldn't grasp how they could forgive. We have thought of the grudges we've held onto for months, if not years, over far lesser offenses, even trivial things, and have shaken our heads. We've realized that Amish life, ridiculed by so many for shunning the world, is now a model for the world, showing the rest of us that even in the midst of horrific circumstances that we are called to be kind, courageous, and forgiving.

We also thank the Amish for making clear why Jesus says what he does about the 6th commandment, the commandment about killing.
Because initially it seems like a huge leap of logic to go from our anger to murder, from typical daily human behavior to the violence of a desperate and deranged person. Yet Jesus is insistent, and he does not mince words: You have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, You shall not murder'; and 'Whoever murders shall be liable to judgment.' but I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you are 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.

What is this about? Are we condemned every time we are angry with someone? Are we wrong to be angry, and never right? Is anger itself the issue?

Sometimes it is. Sometimes our anger with someone has little to do with the person we're angry with. Later, after we've exploded, we realize it. I remember my dad telling me the story of a golfer who,  after a near-perfect round, on the 18th hole put his final chip shot into the middle of a water hazard. He was crushed, and he was furious.
He tried again, and his second ball went into the water. Then again.
His fury mounted, until, unable to take the frustration any longer, he grabbed his golf bag from his caddy -- his brand new clubs in his brand new bag -- and threw them all into the water. "What are you doing?" yelled his caddy. "Are you crazy?" Whereupon the golfer took the caddy and threw him into the water.

Sometimes we "lose it" over things which afterward seem incredibly unimportant. We're amazed at ourselves. We're embarrassed to even think about it. No doubt our sudden anger was caused by a mounting inventory of personal frustrations, many of which we had managed to keep inside, and which had become an underground reservoir of molten emotion, not going away, but waiting for a fault line, a crack in our composure, to explode. Then out it came -- perhaps at home, which feels more safe than our workplace. Sometimes at church, because people are caring and actually listen to what we say.
It may be the pace of our lives that contributes to the problem of anger. Maybe we don't take the time we need at the beginning of the day or at the end of the day to acknowledge how we're feeling, to be honest with ourselves and with God. If we have a lot to do, if we're tired out from a taxing day, it is easy to put off the kind of reflection and self-examination and prayer that reacquaints us with the sense of God's blessing.

There may be deeper roots to our anger. In his book The Enigma of Anger, Episcopal priest and author Garret Keizer makes the point that much of anger is actually grief. That we carry around within ourselves unresolved hurt, sadness, anger, frustration, and confusion -- old wounds, things in our lives that haven't gone right, disappointments, failures long past but with which we've never reconciled. Our outbursts of anger, says Keizer, may be "the result of grief that never comes to sobbing." What we may need is just permission to grieve, to acknowledge the effect a death has had on us -- be it the death of a person, or the death of a dream.

But then there are times when anger itself is the problem. And not that it's wrong, but that it's right. Our anger is right -- we're angry for good reason -- only we don't know how to deal with it. Perhaps we were raised in a family in which it was never acceptable to be angry, to show anger, to raise our voice, let alone act out -- all of which made our anger darker and scarier. Or all we've ever heard from our church is that anger is bad behavior, that people who get angry are not spiritual, and therefore not good Christians. The message, either spoken or unspoken, is not that the opposite of anger is love, but that the opposite of anger is nice. That when Jesus says to turn the other cheek, that is not so much an act of radical love and courageous non-violence, but an act of nice. Only nice doesn't work, at least for long.
Without love, without honest self-examination, without Christ and his transforming power, we become tired of the deception and just end up more angry.

Especially when we sense that we are right -- that is a time for focus and prayer. There are things, after all, that we should be angry about.
Poverty under our noses in our own community; people with so little in the midst of so much; people whose circumstances cause them to be invisible. There are things we should be angry about. Carelessness about our environment; being casual about our own future, the limits of our natural resources, the health of our planet, which our children and grandchildren will deal with. We should be angry about a political culture where negative campaigning causes voters to be cynical; instead every one of us should be voting and participating in our democracy, improving our own democracy before we go trying to spread it to other shores. There are things we should be angry about. Sometimes positive change occurs only when we're angry enough to get involved and make a difference ourselves.

Sometimes we're angry at the church. When this happens I hope and pray that those of us in leadership have the grace to let down our defenses and just listen. We may not have good answers, but we can listen. I'm always chastened by the items in the list Paul speaks of as the fruit of the Spirit, for they are not things like power and personality, but rather they are love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Galatians 5:22-23).
All anger-abating gifts. I try to go back to that list when I find that I'm angry.

Yet if we love the lord of the church as savior, guide and friend, and if we live in his church as our second home, we know that the fruit of the Spirit is not low-hanging fruit. We don't become Christians and then instantly reach up and grab what we need. This is the fruit we have to work to find, the fruit we climb long ladders of life to reach.
Which is why the church of Jesus Christ is a community of support for people like us who need practice in Christian discipleship, support for weekly worship, study, prayer, and service. We all deal with anger, frustration, and disappointment, which is why we need each other to help each other.

It brings us back to our passage and to Jesus' words. Because his message is not that the emotion of anger is wrong, or that its expression will bring judgment on us, but rather that anger must be dealt it's urgent, it's important. In our faith nothing is more important than reconciliation. And just as anger happens fast -- we become angry quickly, so also we must answer our anger quickly. Not brush it aside, not bury it, not feel guilty about it or immobilized by it, but deal with it.
Perhaps first with our spouse or friend or spiritual advisor, certainly taking the time for prayer and meditation, but then we must find it within ourselves to be direct. To talk to the person who has hurt us, or, as difficult, the person we suspect we may have hurt.

And just as difficult for us, we are called to forgive -- even our selves What the Amish have shown us, the truth of the gospel, is that when anger and pain occur, even when tragedy and violence happen, if they are attended to immediately within the community of faith, the violence stops and the healing starts. Jesus tells us that when we are angry, we have in our hearts at that moment the potential for showing the kingdom of heaven on earth; at that moment we have the chance to turn destruction into redemption. If we follow Jesus, if we heed to his commands, if we obey him, we heal the world.

A couple of months ago I suggested that the opposite of love was not hatred, but fear. That it is fear that keeps us from loving, and that what Jesus says to his disciples over and over again is simple and personal, Be not afraid. It can be for us in any trying time our simple prayer.

I wonder if, in the same way, the opposite of anger is not different from what we assume. I'll speak for myself. For me the opposite of anger is not love, at least not at first. I can't get myself turned around that fast; I hang on to feelings too long. For me it's another process altogether, it's a giving-over of what is in me, a giving-over of what I hold dear.

For me the opposite of anger is trust. Trust that God is good and God is right. Trust that peacemakers will be called children of God, as Jesus says. Trust that forgiving, very simply, is what Christians do.