Rabbi Mendy Herson's Blog

Do you ever get angry?

Anger is a broad word used to describe a basic human response to threat or frustration.

Sometimes, anger is healthy, but that is usually limited to the context of scaring away the perpetrator of an imminent physical threat (which, thank G-d is not a situation we tend to encounter frequently in our daily lives).

At other times, anger can be feigned. Feigned anger, properly distinguished, is not anger at all. It is a firm expression of displeasure that is the result of an emotionally controlled strategic or tactical decision specifically not made in anger. However, feigned anger, like fire, should be used with extreme caution, as it can easily spread, both in the person that thinks they are feigning anger and in those that the person feigning anger seeks to impact, to real anger of the unhealthy variety.

That is what I want to focus on here.

We all know it: the irrational, aggressive – ‘losing it’ – anger.

Are you sometimes consumed by fury?

For a moment, go back to that mental state. How did you feel? Were you in control of your life or was your self-discipline incapacitated by emotional forces?

If you’ve lost control, to whom have you lost it? Who’s in the driver’s seat of your life?

This isn’t your best ‘you,’ and you know it.

In the words of Judaic spirituality, when you succumb to anger, you unleash your inner hell. It’s your worst self. It’s toxic.

Oddly enough, it can also be seductive. This force, which destroys the quality of your life, can become an emotional drug; it poses as your friend, righteously presenting itself as ‘standing up for yourself’.

Think again. In the words of Job (5:2): Anger kills the fool.

To maintain management of our own lives, we first need to actively maintain self-awareness. We need to identify ‘red flags,’ internal foes that disrupt our personal equilibrium. Anger is a poison to the human system, and an impediment to living a meaningful life. So, when we feel anger, we need to see that red flag in our mind’s eye, and then aim for self-control, which – in the scope of life – is actually the first step in EFFECTIVELY addressing the looming issue.

But that will only work if we genuinely see anger in that light, not if we’re comfortable with the self‑righteous ‘losing it’ persona.

For millennia, Jewish tradition has taught that anger also reflects a lack of faith.

The equation is pretty simple: We become angry when we feel vulnerable to a threat or problem. When we believe in G-d, we can’t feel vulnerable. When we feel our faith in G-d, our worldview focuses on our Divinely-granted journey, our destiny, not our perception of vulnerability.

Anger competes with our sense of destiny, so we can’t allow anger to win.

Between any [potentially] anger-causing stimulus and our response, there is a gap. It is in that space that we get to choose our response. In order to choose a healthy response, that space needs to contain an emotional filter, and a core element of an effective emotional filter is faith.

Some problems may be solved, and some can only be managed, but either way, we need to choose a response that’s suitable for our life’s journey.

So pay attention to your anger-quotient. Reducing it will increase your quality of life.

As we approach the Rebbe's yahrtzeit, (the 27th anniversary of the Rebbe’s passing will be observed on Saturday evening and Sunday), the familiar "what made the Rebbe so special?" questions seem to come at a faster clip. The answer is not as easy as you may think.

How can I possibly encapsulate spiritual and academic depth which I cannot grasp, let alone the multi-faceted characteristics that I can? One thing is for certain: I can't do it justice in a brief essay.

So I’ll settle for a tiny snapshot of this great man, which will hopefully trigger more exploration and further study.

When discussing the Rebbe and his gifts to the world, my mind instinctively goes to the observable fact that the Rebbe deeply respected and valued every person, every living being, and every situation.

To the Rebbe, I truly mattered. And so did you.

The fact that we exist, that G-d intentionally creates each of us, gave every person de facto importance in the Rebbe’s mind. If G-d considered you important enough to create, there was absolutely no question as to your importance in the cosmos.

The only question the Rebbe encouraged us to ask ourselves is: Am I living up to my life's mission?

The Rebbe saw importance in every event and every interaction. There was no such thing as happenstance. If I bumped into you on a street in Manhattan, found myself with an extra hour on a layover in Frankfurt, or was faced with a sudden challenge in my life, I and the world needed to be better for it.

Every situation beckoned: “engage me; embrace me as an opportunity for learning, moral growth and a better world”.

If life was intrinsically valuable, then every step of the journey was necessarily important.

There was no throwaway in the Rebbe’s lexicon. No irrelevant people. No thoughtless comments. No 'flings'. No 'down' time (sleep - and this would apply to vacation too - was about recharging the batteries to re-engage the journey).

In our shaky world of impermanence, from disposable technology to empty relationships, the Rebbe was an unshakable Rock of Meaning.

I miss him very much.

Join us this shabbat for a special kiddush after services, where we'll explore this more.