ANGER
3. ANGER
"Simeon and Levi are brothers — their swords are weapons of violence. Let me not enter their council, let me not join their assembly, for they have killed men in their anger and hamstrung oxen as they pleased. Cursed be their anger, so fierce, and their fury, so cruel! I will scatter them in Jacob and disperse them in Israel." Genesis 49:5-7
The subject for this evening is ANGER, the second in the list of mortal sins. Of sins, it must be observed that they vary in sinfulness . Those are called deadly, which it is death to the soul not to resist; of these pride stands first in order, and anger second. I shall try to show the deep disgrace of being the slave of this sin; what leads to it, what are its degrees, and by what means its hold on its victim may be weakened and broken off.
Note this first, that there is a marked contrast, in dignity, between this sin and pride. There may be a horrible kind of dignity in sin; some sins put men to greater shame than others. In pride, nothing is more notable than the lofty air of the transgressor, whose bearing announces that sense of superiority which forms the habit of his soul.
But a man in a rage is a sorry sight. Self-control and self-command are gone, and the wretch appears to be the sport, the tool of some fiend or demon, who exhibits him for the terror or derision of the by-standers.
Pride is a moral habit — a set, hard, and offensive condition of the soul, which, however, remains calm and collected at the poise of complacency and contempt for everything outside itself.
But anger is a tempest, which makes havoc of decency and dignity, and, when at its height, effaces the image of God in His rebellious creature. Like other storms, it announces its approach by signs, and has degrees of violence. The forecasts which tell us whether we are to have a stiff breeze, a gale, or a hurricane, in this moral insanity, are easily read.
First come the contracting of the muscles, the quivering of the lips, knitting the brows, and an ugly light in the eye, which tell that the devil of mad wrath is striving, though as yet within bounds.
Next, as the mad fit grows in force, the passion breaks the barrier and manifests itself in outward act; the voice betrays it, the limbs sympathize; the person thus possessed by the fiend rapidly loses control of himself, and soon becomes a mere puppet or marionette, jerked this way and that, until it comes to loud cries and dangerous gestures, and the dishonor of reckless words and acts.
And then, from stage to stage, the storm grows to the fullness of its strength, and bursts upon us in uplifted hand, in blow with the clinched fist, with missile, with weapon, with knife, with pistol, by way of assault and battery, and at last in the article of murder.
Was ever a sight like that, since Cain first exhibited himself after that horrid fashion? What dignity, what decency are left? What respect for self, what regard for man, what fear of God? Here is a wretched creature, storming up and down, without balance, curb, or brake — until someone in his senses interposes, to hold him in or fell him to the ground, lest he does further mischief. And this is the victim of the second of the deadly sins.
There have been times , and there are places in this world, in which it was and still is fully believed that anger , in its extreme manifestations, is the sign of a physical possession of the devil. Strange stories may be read, in the Norse and Icelandic literature, of men subject to accesses of diabolical fury who were the objects of terror to all peaceable inhabitants of the land. "No fact in connection with the history of the Northmen is more firmly established, on reliable evidence, than that of the Berserkir rage being a species of diabolical possession." Those Berserkir , as they were denominated, would go into a state of frenzy wherein the characteristics of humanity disappeared and the functions of the reason were for the time suspended; upon which they would perform acts from which in their sober senses, they must have recoiled; nay, while in that mad fit, these people would assume the qualities and attributes of wild beasts, and rage and snap, bite and tear, grinding the teeth, foaming at the mouth, and behaving like furies!
In them you have a portrait of the passionate man or woman of this or any day, who, though falling short of the absolute ugliness of the original, has the same general air, manner, and semblance, and may thank God Almighty that he runs not to the same extreme. For we believe that, as Christ's sweet gospel of love was preached through those wild heathen regions, the demon-possession gradually passed away, and men were in a measure delivered as the fiends receded before the sign of the uplifted Cross. Yet still, to some extent, the pagan insanity remains, and must, until an end be put to the sorrow and sadness of earth.
We have among us, in our criminal classes, the modern representative of the Berserkir; nay, more, the seeds of that same madness are in every heart which angry passion frequently agitates and whence violent outbreaks occasionally proceed. You yourselves, whenever to any degree you yield to this sin, become to that extent identified with these ancient and modern Berserkirs; and while you shudder at the sight of the red and reeking hand of murder, you forget that the temper which led to that conclusion may be in your own hearts.
For reflect that, in this sin of anger, there are many degrees; it runs up and down a long scale, through pique, sullenness, spite, vindictiveness, bitterness of speech, quarrelsomeness, and cruelty — up to malice, hatred, revenge, and bloodshed. All this while, one thing is wrong: the heart is foul, the will perverse, the temper undisciplined — and the question is not so much about quality as about degree. And woe be to us, when this sin of anger is combined with its elder sister sin of pride. Given, first, a haughty, self-sufficient spirit, and, next, a violent temper — and these two will make the pathway of life a scene of perpetual alarm and distress; and from this being, as from a figure of terror, shall all recede who are able to escape his companionship and fly from his presence.
In the seventh and twelfth cantos of the "Inferno," Dante, with his usual exquisite fitness in assigning penalties to sins, has shown the vulgarity and the heinousness of this offence. In a muddy marsh, naked in limb, and distorted in feature by passion, stand these angry people; they keep on striking at each other with hand, with head, with feet, and gnashing on each other with their teeth. These were they who, once, in the sweet air which the sun makes glad with his bright beams, had in their souls nothing but hateful fumes and bitter smoke, and made their life a turbid horror. And presently appears a river of boiling blood, wherein are struggling those who, in their day, had done violence to their neighbor; the murderers , the Berserkir of old and latter time — while Centaurs, armed with bows and arrows, running along the banks of the stream, shoot at each as he tries to emerge, and drive them back again into the flood.
Shame, disgrace, and horror attend this capital sin in the commission here — and shall, no doubt, appear in the course of its expiation in the world to come.
Let us proceed to the question of a REMEDY. What can be done, what must be done, with sinners of this class? The subject has its complications; for anger is a sin with which, when it goes to the uttermost length, the State has to do. Some sins are secret , as it were, between a man's soul and God. Some sins are open — and the civil magistrate and the officers of the law have control also. No statute was ever made, in human legislatures, against vanity or pride. But anger is one of those sins which the law does notice, and must notice, for the peace of the commonwealth and the safety of human life. A fool may indulge his good opinion of himself to any extent that he pleases, and nobody will interfere. But anger, the instant it passes from thought to manifestation in word and deed, brings the offender within the reach of the law.
And here we come to a problem of no small importance, What to do with our madmen? What to do with these wild beasts whose exploits are matter of daily record, under the head of bloody crime?
The old Roman Empire fell, when the time had come, under the pressure of enormous hordes of barbarians , as they were called, who, descending from the gloomy forests of the North, swept like an avalanche through the Southern plains. We have our barbarians also; but they are here, at home, living where we live, watching us from day to day, hiding in the obscure quarters of great cities, nursing wrath, indignation, and anger — and ready, if the chance were given, to rise and fly at our throats!
Out of this vast multitude of dangerous people come forth, one by one, the burglars — every one of whom is ready and prepared for murder — the highway robber, the assassin; and these do their work as they may, under the provocation of real or imagined offence, or under the stimulus of strong drink, which transforms the man into the brute.
Society is then only safe when the criminal classes stand in habitual terror of the law; and yet there have been times when that beneficial fear seemed to have vanished, under the influence of sentimental philanthropism and lax administration of justice — and then every man's life was in peril!
It is almost impossible to believe with what coolness the act of murder is sometimes done. One man enters a house, proceeds to his victim's room, kills her, and then walks calmly downstairs and out into the street, mentioning to a member of the household whom he meets on the staircase, "I have just killed my niece, as you will find if you will take the trouble to look into her room."
Another man, offended with his friend for some alleged affront, decides to kill him; but, on being reminded that it is Sunday, admits the unfitness of the day, and says, "Very well; I will wait until Monday." And so, on the Monday, he proceeds to his friend's apartment, reminds him of the design, puts it into execution, and then, descending to the dining-room, sits down to dinner with a sardonic smile.
I do not draw on the imagination in these instances of audacious and atrocious crime, but relate the facts simply as they occurred. And when it comes to this, and when the manifestations of this capital sin are so startling and displayed with such incredible effrontery, it is time to ask the reason why, and to find out, if we can, by what means society is brought to the edge of that abyss. For in days of violence, wherein all laws of God and man are defiled, nothing seems plainer than that men themselves are in fault, in tolerating what ought not to be endured, and in becoming apologists for sin .
The growth of crimes of violence is due to these two causes: First, the familiarity with them and their loathsome details, which results from minute description and publication.
And, secondly, the comparative immunity of criminals. The first we owe to the public press, the second to our cumbrous forms of legal procedure.
Looking on these scenes, in which God's commandment is defied and the life of peaceable citizens is put in jeopardy, we solemnly arraign the press and the delays of the law ; and to these let us add the false sentiment of a large proportion of the community.
First among the promoters of this deadly sin is the press, which fills its columns daily with the annals of crime . There is no need of this; it is positively detrimental to society, and yet it goes on, without diminution — this daily spreading for the people their feast of bloody food. Every quarrel, every controversy, every assault and battery, every assassination and murder, must be related in full, with the circumstances, and minute descriptions of the actors, and, if possible, with portraits, and plans and diagrams of the scene of action. Nothing is more demoralizing than this publication of crime . It is a sowing to the wind, whereof men must reap the whirlwind.
And if it be said, in defense of the press, that they publish this barbarous and brutal stuff because the people like it and take pleasure in reading it , we shall remind them that the journalist has a high and honorable duty to perform, that he ought to be helping and not hindering the cause of public morals, that he ought to be standing up for righteousness, and religion — and that it is a grievous fall if, instead of this, we find him stirring up this filthy and stinking marsh of pollution that the public may the more easily take in the fumes, instead of driving them back and bidding them retire from the pestilential spot.
And, secondly, we arraign those law-makers and law-administrators who have rendered the punishment of crime a slow and doubtful process. Does one man murder another in cold blood at noonday, and in view of a dozen witnesses? It will be a year, or a year and a half, or two years, before that man pays the penalty with his life — not that there is, or can be, a doubt of his guilt, but because, through a wicked system, by means of exceptions , stays of proceedings, appeals, and other ingenious contrivances, the due execution of a righteous sentence is postponed, and the end of justice in part defeated.
How is it that men are allowed to go on shooting, stabbing, braining one another in their savage way? That they are not brought to their senses? That they are not told, distinctly, "This must stop, or we shall abate you as public nuisances whom society will not tolerate within its bounds?"
The passion of anger is undoubtedly within a man's control — if he is made to feel that he must control it, he will. If it could be impressed on the minds of all men that righteous retribution for deeds of violence would be certain and swift, the mind would adjust itself to those conditions. What we need is a settled opinion, a habit of thought, on the subject of the punishment of sin. The idea must be fixed in the minds of the community that certain crimes, if committed, will certainly be punished, with the least possible delay. Once get this idea into the minds of the dangerous classes, and the general safety is to a great extent secured.
It has been well said, and nothing is more true, that society is constituted, governed, and kept going by habits of thought. He who has formed or fallen into a fixed habit of thought on a given subject will act on that habit, whether his action be conscious or unconscious, and whether he has his wits about him or no. The habit of a pure and religious childhood and youth may continue to govern, at intervals, one who has degenerated and fallen away; when reason is suspended and only instinct governs, the old impressions will be the determining force.
I remember a wretched man who, having been brought up in church-going habits, had lost his faith, and plunged into gross dissipation; but again and again, when beside himself through intoxication, he would direct his steps toward the House of God, led thither by the habit of better years. It may be said that whatever a man's habitual thoughts and convictions are while sober — the same will they be when he has lost control of himself by strong drink: the operation of the judgment may be suspended, for the time, but he will follow his habitual impressions. If, then, you can plant in a ruffian's mind this fixed idea, that murder is sure to be swiftly punished, and that, beyond a doubt, he who sends another man out of this world will follow within, say, thirty days — that persuasion will influence him unconsciously, even in his sudden fit of passion, and make him slow to imbrue his hand in his brother's blood.
But the administration of the law among us produces the opposite impression. Criminals are led to think of the punishment of murder as doubtful and slow . To obtain a jury may take a very long time; to get a sentence will be difficult; and then delays will ensue, and counsel will know best how to increase them, so that it will be a year or two before the crime is punished, if it ever is.
And meanwhile, another class arrive upon the scene who deserve arraignment, as dangerous to social order: the sentimental philanthropists, who, after a little while, in every case of capital sentence, interpose, and enact their preposterous part. These are those who forget the murdered — and lavish their nauseous sympathy on the murderer! They draw up and sign petitions for pardon or commutation of sentence; who visit the condemned cell with bouquets and light reading, and ask for autographs and locks of hair, until we are ashamed of human nature for developing beings so absurd, and wonder at the feebleness of moral sense which can thus forget the sin — and lift the most cruel, the most brutal, the most wicked of transgressors into objects of admiration and regard!
Nor let us forget the funeral honors often paid to the bodies of executed felons, the disgrace of any community which permits such a defiance of the spirit of the Law, such exaltation of Deadly Crime.
Thus far, of the sin of Anger in its public aspects, as dangerous to the life of the individual and the peace of the commonwealth. If the land be defiled with blood — and that special kind of defilement is most horrible in God's sight, as He has told us by the mouth of Isaiah his prophet — we owe it to ourselves, to the scandalous publicity given to the details of crime, to the inefficient and procrastinating administration of justice, to the ingenious methods of escape supplied to criminals, to the indulgence of feeble sentimentalists and sicklied philanthropists, in their efforts to mitigate the rigor of just law, and, if possible, to prevent the execution of its sentence. And in the name of the Righteous God who gave mankind the Decalogue, and assures us that He will by no means spare the guilty — we charge those whom it concerns to see that steps are taken to protect us in our people and our homes, to speed the cause of justice, and to bring the mind and habit of the people into harmony with the spirit of that eternal law which is the safeguard of human institutions.
I have dwelt too long, perhaps, on these aspects of the subject; let us proceed to take it to ourselves , as a present and inward temptation and danger . With this sin of anger, others are concerned besides the public and notorious offender of whom the police and the law-courts take cognizance. In myriad manifestations it may be traced — in private life and in the domestic sanctuary, where quick tempers, irritable dispositions, and quarrelsome natures multiply the sorrow of life. There be many passionate men and women, who make themselves and everybody about them miserable. How shall such people deal with that plague of the heart? What are the remedies? And how are they to be applied?
Few things are harder than that of controlling the temper — but it has been done and it can be done. It is a long work, a hard work, and also a very simple work. Doubt not that God Almighty is stronger than the Devil, and that by the help of His grace we can get the victory over any form of sin.
All sins begin within the man, and, so beginning, work outward to the surface. This may not be seen in every sin; but it is seen, and clearly, in the case of anger. It begins in the heart; thence it goes out by way of the blood-vessels, through the cheeks and the face, which flush, or turn white with rage; and then we hear it in the tones of the voice, until finally the whole system vibrates, and the sin takes some final, extreme, and shocking form.
Again, observe that this sin has its degrees. Some people grow angry in an instant and are over it in another. In some, anger is a smoldering fire, covered up, but burning under repression — this is the anger of the unforgiving and the vengeful, who brood over wrongs, determining to have full satisfaction some time or other . Among such sinners we rank the Envious of our time, who are incessantly raging against social order and capital and wealth, men whom a popular writer has thus described: "We have all wondered at such men. They are the outcome of this age, and of no previous time, as it is also to be hoped that their like may not arise hereafter. They are found everywhere, these agitators, with their excited faces, their nervous utterances, and their furious hatred of all that is."
There is an anger which shows itself in sullen and morose bad-humor, ugly and lowering like a storm-cloud, and enduring for years, and perhaps through life.
Or the malady may show itself in a disposition to irritate and aggravate one's neighbor, with tormenting skill.
Or it may secretly consume the person himself, until the interior becomes a bed of cinders, lifeless and black, where no spark of love, pity, or charity can ever be kindled.
There is anger which finds a vent in destroying property, and dashing things to pieces; and an anger which smites with the fist, or with armed hand.
From the first rising of the flame in the heart until the final outburst in conflagration, is a considerable distance — and the earliest stage is the golden opportunity for resistance. Meet that devil the instant you feel him stirring in your soul. Bend your whole force on this one thing, to keep him inside, to prevent him from breaking out of bounds.
And next try to lessen the frequency of these fits of passion — that also is within your power. One reason why people fail so miserably in their efforts to break off their sins, is that they deal with them as if they were destitute of practical common sense, as if habits of sin could not be made and unmade just like other habits. Grave sins can be counted — you can keep a memorandum of them; you can know how many times you fell yesterday, or the day before, or the day before that; you can write the number down in your note-book.
Now, for a man tempted to fits of passion, it is an important advance to reduce the number. So these are the two things to be done: first, to resist at the beginning, and keep the fiend from breaking loose; and, secondly, to lessen the number of times when the mood comes on you. And with God's blessing on hearty endeavors, these two things can be accomplished.
I myself have seen instances of such triumphs; I could tell you of people who once were so passionate that it would have frightened you to see them — and now give no sign of an angry fit which anyone could perceive. And again I have known people who used to lose their temper many times a day, and now do not lose it above twice or thrice a week. These are important and happy advances; they show a battle, and a partial victory; they promise some day a victory which shall be complete.
Do you ask how long it takes to get as far as this? I answer, that it takes some people years and years, that it will take some all their lives, and that even then they may not have conquered completely. What of that? It is the only thing to do — and God shall reward, with the victor's crown, the patient combatant, who never ceased to strive, who never gave up to the Devil, whose heart and will were right, on whom the grace of God was not bestowed in vain.
And you, O brother, O sister in Christ! who have, and know you have, your own devil to fight in your own troubled soul — hope on, hope ever. Be it a spirit of anger, of envy, of jealousy, or impurity, or whatever other thing there be which can torment mankind, deal with your adversary earnestly, painfully, prayerfully; with high resolve, with strong faith, with courage, with resignation to the necessity so laid upon you; and leave the issue to your God — and your reward is sure to you, and, either here or hereafter, the end shall be victory and the peace and rest of the saints and the elect, who were tried and refined as by fire.
We walked, last week, together through the House of Pride . We saw there the overbearing and haughty, the self-sufficient and conceited; skeptics and free thinkers, new lights and radical reformers, men who reject authority, despise dignities, and hold themselves superior to the people of God, in being without faith and walking by sight only, in believing nothing and fearing nothing but to compromise their own importance.
This evening, we have gone through the House of Anger — where are the disturbers of peace, brawlers, and quarrelsome, sullen and spiteful, vindictive and cruel folk, homicides, assassins, murderers. "O my soul, come not into their secret; unto their assembly. Cursed be their anger, for it is fierce; and their wrath, for it is cruel."
Let us close with some thoughts which may comfort and bless our soul. Of this sin of Anger, the contrary virtue is Patience . The perpetual and perfect example of patience is our dear and blessed Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.
In whatever manner they fight, or whatever their weapons, great is the glory of those who overcome, and lasting and eternal their reward. There are people in this world whose tempers are so even that they seem incapable of displeasing God in this way. I do not know that they are to be envied. For the harder the battle — the more splendid must be the spoils of victory; the sorer the struggle — the sweeter the rest. Even among the twelve apostles, and almost the first to be called, were two who, beginning as excitable, passionate, and vindictive men, became mirrors of patience and patterns of charity. James and John, the sons of Zebedee, had a cast of mind and a temper which led their Lord to name them, "the Sons of Thunder," as if they reminded Him of the angry gust, and the lightning bolt which flashes through the overclouded sky. These were they who, on one occasion, jealous of His honor, called for the wholesale destruction of certain villages of Samaritans who had offered Him an affront. But those hot-headed men became, at length, like their Divine Master, full of love to God and His creatures — patient, tender, sympathetic; and one has been known ever since as "the disciple whom Jesus loved." And he, surviving all his brethren, and beholding visions in the desert land, spoke as never man spoke of the Divine compassion, and kept on discoursing of that theme until his calm and purified spirit passed into eternal rest.
These examples, of Jesus Christ, of His apostles, and of many a saint and blessed one since their day, encourage, constrain, and comfort us. Here is a great weight of glory to be gained; let those who will enter these lists of honor, and see whether they also may not behave themselves valiantly, and gain the crown.