Anger’s Double-Edged Sword

If ever there was an example of justified anger it is that of Moses who, as we read this week, smashes the tablets when he sees the people dancing before the golden calf. “As soon as Moses came near the camp and saw the calf and the dancing, he became enraged; and he hurled the tablets from his hands and shattered them at the foot of the mountain.” (Exodus 32)

And if ever there was an example of unjustified anger it is that of Moses who, as we will read in later months, strikes the rock because the people will not stop complaining about the lack of water. “And Moses raised his hand and struck the rock twice with his staff. Out came copious water, and the community and their beasts drank.” (Numbers 20)

Then again are the effects of anger ever so clear.

In the first instance, Moses’ actions are deemed understandable. The people are punished for their sin and God makes another set of tablets. In the second, Moses is punished. Because he strikes the rock, he is not allowed to enter the promised land. The difference between Moses’ actions is not apparent.

Why in one is our leader’s anger understandable and rewarded, and in the other questionable and punished? Rabbinic commentators expound at length. They debate the differences. They parse the meaning of this emotion. Is anger ever justified? Can it sometimes serve noble purposes?

Rebecca Solnit opines: “Much political rhetoric suggests that without anger there is no powerful engagement, that anger is a sort of gasoline that runs the engine of social change.” She rightly points out that people often dismiss legitimate complaints about societal injustices by calling their advocates “angry.” Those who speak out against our nation’s ongoing struggle with racism or our current battles against antisemitism are labeled by their detractors as angry.

When the status quo is threatened the agitator is called angry. Look to the struggle for women’s rights. In the same situation a man who takes charge might be called “decisive” and a woman “bossy.” Solnit writes, “For decades people have stereotyped feminists as angry, and in doing so have denied aspects of women’s experience that it is reasonable to be angry about.” (Harper’s Magazine, “Facing the Furies”)

Our tradition worries about the dangers of anger. It urges us to let go of this emotion. (Like most institutions, and governments, our Jewish tradition is of course resistant to change.) Our rabbis are weary of anger’s effects. They worry about how it turns people away from each other. “Anger causes one to think irrationally and speak out of anger, thus triggering disputes and quarrels.” (Orchot Tzadikim, Gate 12) Look at social media. Count how many exclamation points and all caps appear on your feed. These sites’ algorithms turn the temperature up rather than down. Let’s be honest. Facebook is not really about friendship. It is instead about anger. It damages more relationships than it cements.

Anger is indeed a double-edged sword.

There is a thin line separating anger’s effects. At times it serves noble purposes and others debases these very same purposes.

Look back to Moses. In both instances he hit stones. He did not hit people. And yet, these very same apparent actions have different outcomes. In this week’s example he effectuates change and moves the people away from idolatry. In the later instance Moses’ anger ends up denying him personal reward and his lifelong goal of reaching the promised land.

Anger may indeed be likened to gasoline. It can fuel change. Solnit concludes, “But sometimes gasoline just makes things explode.” And that is the problem with anger. Once it is unleashed it can lead to change. Once it is poured out it can also lead to destruction.

We need to change. We also need each other.