Luke 23:33-43 - When they came to the place that is called The Skull, they crucified Jesus there with the criminals, one on his right and one on his left. Then Jesus said, "Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing." And they cast lots to divide his clothing. And the people stood by, watching; but the leaders scoffed at him, saying, "He saved others; let him save himself if he is the Messiah of God, his chosen one!" The soldiers also mocked him, coming up and offering him sour wine, and saying, "If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!" There was also an inscription over him, "This is the King of the Jews."

One of the criminals who were hanged there kept deriding him and saying, "Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!" But the other rebuked him, saying, "Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed have been condemned justly, for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong." Then he said, "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom." He replied,"Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise."

Are you one of those people who was taught never to be angry. Good girls, good boys, don't get angry. Right? Wrong.

Anger is an inevitable emotion. It is planted deep within our evolutionary inheritance. In various places in scripture it is said that God becomes angry.

I like to say that anger is the appropriate emotion whenever anything or anyone you love is threatened. Some bully tries to intimidate your little sister...; you are angry. Anger is an emotion that energizes and motivates us for action, protective action on behalf of what we love.

Our gospel story today is a picture of a collection of angry people. "He saved others; let him save himself if he is the Messiah of God" scoff the religious leaders. "If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself," mock the soldiers of the political state. Religion and politics, church and state are both angry at Jesus. And for good reason. He threatened what they loved.

Jesus challenged the religious conventions, teachings and power structures of his day. First century Judaism was characterized by a rigid purity system that defined righteous and sinner, pure and impure, sacred and profane. It was Biblically based, objective and clear. It was also oppressive. The system was enforced in part by a powerful elite who held a monopoly on forgiveness and administered an unjust system of tithes and sacrifice through the Temple.

Jesus' teaching of easy, universal access to a forgiving, compassionate God whose sun and rain fall on just and unjust alike subverted everything they held as precious. He threatened what they loved, and their resulting anger motivated them to stop him.

But he had to be a political threat to be executed. Pilate and the Romans couldn't care less about whatever religious laws Jesus might have broken. He was of interest to them only if he was a political threat. But he began to attract crowds. And riding into Jerusalem on a donkey accompanied by a Messianic demonstration was enough in the ruthless reign of Pilate. The Romans loved order, power and control. Anyone or anything that threatened what they love provoked the deadly anger of the state.

So we see the fruits of anger. The religious and political authorities stand together at the cross, scoffing and mocking the one who formerly threatened what they love.

Anger is contagious. One of the criminals picks it up and joins the crowd. "Aren't you the Messiah? Save us!" In the insanity that mob anger creates, he joins the victimizing rage of his own executioners.

But the other criminal does something else. He looks about with a bit of objectivity and self reflection, rare commodities in an emotionally charged atmosphere. "Jesus," he says simply. "Remember me when you come into your kingdom." What gentle, kind words in a cauldron of anger.

And Jesus. At the center of this vortex of anger. What is his state of mind? "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing." Amazing.

How do you deal with anger? ...the anger of others and your own? Whenever anything you love is threatened, what do you do?

At our best, we'll try to maintain some composure. Maybe like the criminal on the cross who looks around objectively and self reflectively, we'll try to bring some rationality and understanding to the situation. That rarely works, does it? It probably didn't work for the good criminal. He points out to the raging one, "Look, we deserve this. Get off his back." How much do you think the angry criminal appreciated that insight? Not much, I imagine. Instruction and rational argument rarely change minds, it seems. Six months ago our nation was divided in opinion in just about the same way it is now, after impressive attempts to change minds through argument. I don't have a lot stake in the notion that if you just explain your ideas persuasively enough, people who disagree with you will come about. Happens pretty rarely, doesn't it? That doesn't mean it's not worth the effort. Rational discourse is at the heart of civilized life. But I've come to expect modest results.

I was in a conversation recently with a Baptist who was sure that I and my congregation would be going to hell because of our heretical Episcopal ways. We talked rationally and passionately, with good will, for about an hour. No minds were changed. We both went away much like we began, and the best we both could say probably was "Father forgive him, he doesn't know..." Never put your satisfaction into results that involve changing another. We are almost powerless to change another human being.

But we do have some modest influence over our own selves, our hearts and minds. However, in my experience, I'd have to emphasize that word "modest." It's hard for us to change. It's hard for me to change, especially about things that I have a lot of passion about. That's where prayer helps. Especially when we're angry about something. When something we love has been threatened.

There's a story about Maria von Trapp whose life inspired The Sound of Music. Years later, while traveling the speaking circuit after the war, she saw in the audience a guard from the prison camp where she had been held. His face brought back deep feelings of hurt and anger within her. Though it had been years, she was emotionally paralyzed. Quickly she prayed, "Jesus, please, you forgive him for me. I can't."

How do you deal with your anger?

My friend Barbara Crafton who's visited St. Paul's in our McMichael series was our Clergy Conference speaker this week. She talked about the problem of our carrying anger toward people whom we might see as adversaries or enemies, people who threaten what we love. She suggested that we place them first on our prayer list. Before we pray for those we love (that's easy); pray for your enemies. Picture them being showered with God's light and grace. But do so for only a moment, not long. Otherwise, we're tempted to start our lectures and tapes about their wrongs.

How do you deal with your anger? See those who provoke you bathed in God's light and grace. And then move on in your prayer and in your life.

Prayer is a mystery. Who knows how God may use our prayer as part of what God is doing to heal the world? But primarily what prayer does is to change us. Such a prayer as seeing God's light and grace showering our adversary can change our hearts. It can help our appropriate anger whenever someone or something we love is threatened. It can help that natural anger not grow into unhealthy resentment and rage ­ which is anger directed outward ­ or bitterness and depression ­ which is anger directed inward. Such a prayer can give us space, so that if we are drawn to any speech or action, we are more likely to be more objective and self-reflecting like the good criminal, or maybe even forgiving like Jesus.

What good does it do? That depends on your perspective. At the end of the day on Good Friday, the good will of the compassionate criminal and of the forgiving Jesus changed nothing objectively. All three were dead. The religious and political threats had been eliminated with the efficient violence of state justice. But from another perspective, everything had changed.

When Jesus absorbed evil upon the cross, and all its lesser cousins ­ ignorance, control, pride, insecurity, lust and hunger for power, even well-intentioned anger ­ when Jesus absorbed all of those without returning any of it, Jesus broke the vicious cycle and defeated death itself. Resurrection happens. It's what God does with death.

Jesus invites us to participate in a profound act of resistence. He invites us to refuse to take the bait that turns anger into rage or resentment. He invites us to refuse to sink to the level of the provocation. I imagine the raging criminal offered entertainment to the mockers as they listened to him rant. That's what they expected.

But Jesus on the cross, refusing to return their hostility subverts their world. It is a subversive act of power to refuse to enter the vortex of the self-reinforcing cycles of inflating anger. I'll bet it troubled Jesus' adversaries to hear his words, "Father forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing." That's unexpected. That'll cause anger to pause. I'll bet they remembered that, and were haunted. That's how we can participate in what God is doing to heal the world.

Anger happens. It is the appropriate reaction whenever anything you love is threatened. But what will we do with our angers? Right now, they are at the front of my prayer list. I'm asking God's shower of grace and love upon those who represent the greatest threats to what I love. That's probably the only thing that will prevent my contributing to the vicious circles all around us. "Father forgive me; I don't know what I'm doing either.