Aramaic cuss words

Recently I talked with a friend about anger management therapy.  Since much of the conversation revolved around things like creative and clandestine use of the middle finger, we decided we needed it.

I am a One on the enneagram: a Perfectionist.  People may describe Ones uncharitably as aloof, judgmental, hypercritical, strict, up tight.  Ones' demon is anger.  I spend a lot of my time wondering why other people can't get their crap together.

Here, by the way, is my favorite quote about Ones: "Nobody likes a One until they need to get something done."  Yeah, you know it.

As a child, I experienced around me a lot of out of control anger.  In fact, "rage" is probably a better word.  So I have a complicated relationship with my own anger.  I remember reading Christie Cozad Neuger, who said much depression in women is repressed anger.  Bingo.  Men, white men especially, are more free to express anger, and, at the same time, I see these repressive/depressive patterns in myself.  Anger is a source of energy, and when we can't claim it, let alone voice it, we turn its force against ourselves.

I had a therapist who counseled me about anger.  Before I tell you what she said, I have to say: she was a white-haired, petite, bespectacled ex-nun.  Some, seeing her, might call her a "sweet old lady."  So picture this.  She said when she is alone in the car she will drive, yelling, "Fuck 'em all!  Fuck 'em all!  Fuck 'em all!"  She suggested I find and employ a similar coping technique.

When the gospels say that Jesus went off by himself to pray, I pray to God that meant he at least sometimes let loose a holy blast of expletives.  Oh God I hope so.  I'm thinking especially about the Gospel of Mark, right before Jesus walked on water, because during the feeding of the 5,000 the disciples were freaking idiots.  Seriously.  We need a Savior who gets our anger, so there will be mercy when our anger gets the best of us.  So I choose to believe in the possibility that Jesus dropped an F-bomb in his conversations with God.  Gethsemane would have been a good time, or the 40 days in the wilderness. I wish I could go there too and Jesus would teach me some Aramaic cuss words, because I have got to stop taking my Lord's name in vain.

Somewhere, someone is reading this and their pious heart is breaking.  Maybe it's my wife in the other room.  But I think even she would agree that a great enemy of patience and grace is dishonesty about anger.  My wife is Midwestern; she knows this better than anyone.  Civility in human community is vital, but civility without honesty is poisonous and false.  (And sometimes hilarious.)  As we name our anger, first to ourselves and then to God in prayer, it can become a force to free us and strengthen our relationships.  Sublimation, not repression!

So I am recommitting to honesty and vigorous civility.  Just don't piss me off.