Recently I read the story of the rich man who asks Jesus what he has to do in order to inherit eternal life.  Jesus tells him to keep the commandments.  The man says he has done so all of his life.  In Mark's gospel Jesus looks at this man in a loving way and then says he has to sell all he has and give it to the poor in order to be a true follower.  The man walks away, grieving.

Jesus turns to his followers and says, "It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God!" (Mark 10.25). This is not a happy story but I smiled remembering first thinking about it.  I was both an imaginative and a literal child who once spent a whole afternoon looking for the "elbow grease" so I could scrub the ceramic coffee pot clean for my mom. Eventually I called her at work to ask where it was, frustrated I couldn't find what she always said she used to perform that miraculous feat.  She still likes to tell that story.

So there I was squirming between my parents on a hard wooden pew in St. Peter's Catholic Church in Colman, South Dakota when I first heard this story.  Arrested by its imagery, I remembered a trip to the Black Hills to visit our extended family.  During that trip we went to see a impressive geological formation known as "the Needles."  I could picture a camel passing through that needle's eye.  You'd just have to get a crane to get the camel up there but it could happen, right?  Entranced by the pictures in my head, you could say I missed the point of the story.  Or maybe not.  My God was as gentle and loving as Jesus was in the story, so I thought a rich person could make it into God's kingdom.  Even then, apparently, I had Universalist leanings!

This morning I was reading The Wisdom of the Enneagram by Don Richard Riso and Russ Hudson.  Learning from this book is part of a sort of sabbatical while I work part time, try not to worry about money, and discern what's next in my ministry.  Other parts of the program include spiritual direction, rest, cooking good food for myself and my kid, knitting, watching movies and stuff on television, reading scripture (and trashy novels, I'll admit), doing lectio divina (just on the scripture) and writing.  For now the writing is mostly blogging but I'm hoping some poetry will start turning up soon.

Anyway, this morning I found this passage on anger, which turns out to be a good follow-up on my previous post on Holy Anger.  Here it is, edited for brevity.

"Anger, in itself, is not a bad thing.  It is what arises naturally when there is something around us we do not like or want in our lives.  Anger is a way of resisting an attack our integrity, whether physical, moral, or spiritual.  Anger, when fully experienced (and not acted out, repressed, or "swallowed"), is instantaneous and short-lived.... When we resist anger or hang on to it (for other strategic reasons of our ego), it perpetuates itself in increasing obsessive thinking, emotional constriction, and physical tension."  (page 109)

Huh.  So it was not actually good for me to go around feeling angry all day.  No wonder I was tired!  Next time I practice reading angry psalms I will read the "smite them, oh God" psalms, let the anger pass through me, and then go on with my day.  And in case you know about the Enneagram and are wondering what type I am - well I'm not telling... so there.

Yesterday two different people asked if I ever let myself feel angry at the people who have "done me wrong" over the years.  "Not much," is the answer.  I tend not to be comfortable with anger.  Since I feel called to compassion and empathy sometimes I try to circumvent anger by imagining why someone has done or said something hurtful.  But this means I do not feel the anger that is there.

One of those two people was my spiritual director.  When I told her I have been reading and meditating on the psalms, she suggested that some days I just read the angry psalms.  I said, "You mean the 'smite them, O Lord' psalms?"  She said those were the ones.  I tend not to be comfortable with those psalms either, or those passages of the "nicer" psalms.

Well, today did not get off to a good start.  My teenager was supposed to get himself up and to school on time so I could sleep in before my working weekend.  He did not.  Before he left, though, I totally lost it with him - yelling and stuff.  I didn't quite rend my clothes and bang my head with rocks, but then again I hate mending clothes and didn't have any rocks to hand.

Normally I would spend the rest of the day talking myself out of my anger, especially at my kid - but the thing is that he has been shirking lately and I have every right to be angry.  So I took my spiritual director's advice (I picture her reading this and smiling). When the readings laid out for me didn't include smite-y psalms, I sought one out.  Psalm 94 was the winner - "God the Judge of All."  It's a really good one if you want to be mad.

"Who stood up for me against the wicked?" the psalmist laments,  "Who took my side against evildoers?"  Oh yeah.  I have thought such thoughts, but not about my son.  I read the psalm over a few times and really enjoyed it.  The part of me that's uncomfortable with anger hates to admit that's true.  It was actually great to let myself feel that anger, frustration and resentment.  These feelings are a part of me as well.  Sometimes anger shows you where you need to change your life, draw a boundary, set a limit.

When my son came home I partially apologized for my harpy act.  I admitted to bottling up my feelings about him too long so they all came out at once.  I admitted that much of the charge or energy had nothing to do with him.  "I'm going through a thing right now," I told him.  "A lot is going on."

Although I apologized for what was not his fault I did mention, calmly but firmly, what was his fault.  I held on to the part of my anger that was justified.  I said he needed to shape up and keep his promises or there would be consequences.  I meant it.  I spent some time today setting up those consequences.  He wasn't happy about that, but he has a right to his anger.  Just like me.  But the truth is that after a day of anger I am feeling pretty tired.  Maybe I need more practice...