You might not believe it — then again, maybe you would — but I was sent to the principal’s office not once in my life, but twice for being in fights with boys at school. What can I say, I’m half Irish.
While I don’t remember much about the first playground fight, I know that I didn’t start it but I gave as good as I got. But one day in 7th grade, the bullying and taunts from a certain boy went too far. I saw red. Next thing I knew I was in Mr. Fieber’s office getting a lecture. He was the assistant principal, so this was serious. The teasing and bullying stopped then and there. I didn’t get in too much trouble though — it was the 80s, you were still allowed to defend yourself against bullies back then.
So I know a little bit about anger. There’s a reason they call it “getting your Irish up.” I’d like to share a particularly powerful teaching tonight. It comes from Pirkei Avot, the Ethics of the Fathers, which we read during this time of year. Chapter 5, verse 11:
It’s said that there are four kinds of temperaments:
Easy to become angry, and easy to be appeased: what you might gain disappears in what you lose.
Hard to become angry, and hard to be appeased: what you might lose disappears in what you gain.
Hard to become angry and easy to be appeased: a chasid, a pious person.
Easy to become angry and hard to be appeased: a rasha, a wicked person.
Let’s break this down a little.
The first type of personality is the person who angers quickly, but also gets over it quickly. Do you know someone like this? They explode, but a few moments later it is forgotten. This person gets credit for not holding a grudge or staying enraged, but they lose points by having a swift temper. They really don’t come out ahead. For the rabbis, this personality is suboptimal.
The second type is slow to anger but has a hard time letting go. The good quality of being difficult to anger outweighs the negative trait of holding onto a grudge or resentment. They aren’t so terrible, but they need to learn to move on. They could be better. Many of us may fall into this category. For the rabbis, anger is seen as a kind of poison. In fact, the Kabbalah instructs those who feel angry during the day to immerse themselves at night in the mikvah to literally wash away the residue of this toxic emotion. Holding onto it eventually leads to destruction. This type of person is not terrible, but could be better.
The way of the chasid, the pious temperament, is this: be slow to anger and quick to be appeased. Look, the rabbis understood that even the most pious person can still get angry at times. Think of Moses killing the overseer in Egypt or smashing his staff into the rock for water. Anger is a natural emotion that is hard, even unhealthy, to repress. It’s not a sin to feel angry, but it should be a rare emotion, not something you embrace. If it bubbles up, we should be able to douse its harmful flames quickly. The greatest ability is not stifling our anger, but sublimating it to wisdom and intellect. This is the ideal to which we should aspire.
The rabbis teach that the worst temperament is this fourth one — easy to anger and hard to appease. This is the way of the wicked. They are hard to live with. Everything enrages them, you walk around on eggshells. You never know what might set them off. And once they burst into a rage, they may hold onto it for days, weeks or even years. We all know people who are like a ticking bomb on the verge of exploding, as well as being perpetually angry about things that happened years, even decades ago. For the rabbis, this person is said to be ruled by a destructive impulse, unable to tame their ego.
A key to this passage is to understand that the rabbis are talking about personality types or temperaments. They use the word “de’ot.” These aren’t described as people, “anashim.” We may possess these different temperaments, but that’s not the end of the story for Jews. While we may be genetically disposed to certain characteristics, Judaism insists we can change, we can overcome, we can be better. As humans, we can control our temperaments. We are not animals. Personality is not a person. The Vilna Gaon teaches this, “The purpose of this world is to work on our character. If you’re not involved with perfecting your character, why are you even here?” Why indeed. “That’s just how I am, that’s just what we do,” doesn’t wash with the rabbis.
Rabbi Eli Mansour takes a slightly different take on these verses. For him, the ka’as, the “anger” that the rabbis are describing here is not the typical emotion we may get when we are provoked. Telling someone not to feel anger is like telling them to stop breathing or stop blinking, it’s impossible. For him, the feeling the rabbis say we need to control and conquer is not the anger but the rage and its after effect, resentment.
Anger may be involuntary, it may even be automatic, but our rage is something we can control. We can’t say it is a reflex. We can’t pass it off on mere human nature. We can’t excuse words or actions caused by rage. It is not “just what we do,” it is a choice. It comes in two phases: aggressiveness in the moment and, later, the simmering of resentment. Anger is natural, but rage is toxic.
The Zohar, the prime text of Kabbalah, and the Talmud both teach this: One’s uncontrolled rage is a sin tantamount to avodah zara, idol worship. Breaking a plate. Punching a wall. Shouting expletives. Verbal, financial, or emotional abuse. Once you react this way and destroy people or things around you, it is characteristic of the same ego issues and lack of control we find in those who worship false gods, idols of stone and wood. We are no longer rational, controllable, or sensible. We lose our humanity and act like beasts.
We live in a time of rage, some would argue a country of rage. Social media and mainstream media provide endless rage-bait for every cause and political persuasion. Clicks and views equal cash, and the more you click and scroll in your rage, the more money they make.
We have seen assassinations of public figures of late; right-wing influencer Charlie Kirk and progressive Democratic legislator Melissa Hortman. It seems to know no boundaries and is growing on every side of the spectrum. Last week, a man full of rage travelled across the country to assassinate the President in the presence of his Cabinet, their spouses, law enforcement officers, hotel workers, and hundreds of journalists and their partners.
Political extremism, and in particular what the FBI now calls, “nihilistic violent extremism” from anywhere in our country cannot be ignored. It is corrosive and leads eventually down dark paths, even the rending apart of our country itself.
There are things we can do.
First, anger is natural, and even understandable. Caring deeply about issues and policies can lead us to righteous anger and positive change. Conflict over points of view is part of a pluralistic democracy, but rage is a choice. Its cousin, resentment, inevitably leads to violence and destruction. We must reject rage and violence as answers. Rage sickens and twists us.
Secondly, we can condemn violence as a solution, even against those with whom we disagree. Words that anger us, words that we find offensive, must not become excuses for stabbing and shooting. Let me say this clearly, a violent society never ends well for the Jews. Judaism forbids assault and murder. Full stop. Each of us is created in the image of God.
Third, Jewish tradition rules that it is forbidden to kill a king, even one like King Solomon who wrongly married Pharaoh’s daughter or King Saul who lost his mind and persecuted David. The assassination of Rabin was ruled by poskim to be a chillul hashem, a desecration of God. Our gedolim link today’s politicians to the rulers of the past, prohibiting political violence.
Similarly, despite damage the ruler may cause, the rabbis say we cannot have people taking the law into their own hands. Ultimately, assassination is a disruptive act that leads to chaos and disorder. Finally, halacha established by our sages mandates that we must recognize and respect the results of democratic elections.
But rabbi, what can we do sitting here in Boone?
A lot. We can model civic responsibility here, now, in our community. We have members who hold every point of view on issues and belong to every party, or no party. And yet we sit together and break bread on Shabbes. We pray together. We sing together. We treat each person with dignity and bring our curiosity. We can interact and co-exist with those with alternative views. The space we create for one another does not mean compromising our values. It only means engaging across a divide. It only means living in the challenge that community and family sometimes brings.
Rabbi Israel Salanter, the great Mussar rabbi, wrote, “It is easier to learn the entire Talmud than to change even a small personality trait.” As the kids say, I felt that.
Listen, I still get angry. Remember: I’m still part Irish. I’m happy to report that I have not punched one person since 1983. And believe me, I’ve wanted to. Quite an accomplishment. That doesn’t mean I don’t get angry sometimes. When I feel anger rising hot — which it does — I try to breathe, use my intellect, and let it go as soon as I can. Even now, it’s hard. I’m not always successful. Believe it or not, rabbis are human too.
Being a human, I have to do the work just like you. Let’s work together?
Shabbat Shalom.