Spiritual poise silences anger
That is pretty much what happened to Christ Jesus when he encountered a violent lunatic as he entered the old synagogue at Capernaum on the northwest corner of the Sea of Galilee. The mentally distressed man launched an unprovoked verbal tirade. Luke’s Gospel says the man “had a spirit of an unclean devil” (4:33). For a few moments it got pretty ugly with the fellow making an unpleasant scene.
The assault began with the man yelling at the top of his voice, challenging Jesus, “Hi! What have you got to do with us Jesus, you Nazarene—have you come to kill us? I know who you are all right.” Next we are told simply Jesus rebuked the mental malady directly saying, “Be quiet! Get out of him!” and the man was instantly healed of his rage. We are also told the onlookers were amazed at Jesus’ power and authority (see Luke 4:31–36, J. B. Phillips).
I have frequently asked myself, how did Jesus cultivate the spiritual poise that gave him such self-control amid such hostility? These verbal assaults and scorn were not uncommon experiences for him. On the opposite side of the Sea of Galilee, on another occasion, Jesus faced the wrath of another insane man in the land of the Gadarenes. The scene repeats itself. He starts shouting at Jesus, but Jesus rebukes the wrath of mortal thought, and the man is healed (see Luke 8:26–39).
Studying the accounts of Jesus’ calm in the face of anger, I found myself asking: “How would I have reacted had I been suddenly confronted with similar rage while walking along a city street? Do I sufficiently understand spiritual poise to defang the anger of others?”
In the past year, I have found myself verbally assaulted at least a half a dozen times, sometimes by strangers, at other times by casual acquaintances, even neighbors. For example, over the summer, an inebriated neighbor raged at me telling me how much “everyone disliked me,” and she goaded her husband, urging him to “mop the floor” with me.
It was an uncomfortable situation because we were living on a small island and it was difficult to avoid each other. I couldn’t stop thinking about how I would defend myself if he actually were to physically attack me.
It's my privilege to mentally take charge, not through human belligerence, but by insisting that the Christ is present.
In my study of the Gospels it’s become clear to me that Jesus never responded in kind to verbal assaults. The phrase “spiritual poise” kept coming to thought and I wondered: “What did Jesus know that I had to learn to surmount these hostile and serious personal verbal assaults?” Then I realized that my goal in such a situation had to be to think, speak, and act as Jesus would have.
So my first duty was to be alert—no matter from which direction the anger or fury might come. When Jesus said, “I and my Father are one” (John 10:30), wasn’t he acknowledging he coexisted with God and there could be no separation between them? And, as a follower of Jesus, didn’t that truth apply to me as well?
Perhaps even more important, Jesus demanded of his disciples and followers that they should not fear (see Luke 12:32). There is nothing to suggest Jesus was ever intimidated by the wrath of others. When Jesus was confronted with malevolent or potentially violent people, his calm, God-centered thought disarmed evil’s intent. Similarly, in Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, Mary Baker Eddy pointed out that “Christian scientific practice begins with Christ’s keynote of harmony, ‘Be not afraid!’ ” (p. 410).
I reasoned that my refusal to acknowledge any separation from God, divine Love, afforded me spiritual confidence that ruled out fear and mandated that I, too, had spiritual poise and power. I increasingly came to understand and accept that divine Love transforms human character and overrules evil in any form.
One day, not long afterward, while walking a wooded trail, I encountered the man who was instructed by his wife to “mop the floor” with me. But armed with a new spiritual confidence that resulted from my study of the Gospels and my prayer, I greeted him in friendly fashion, secure in the knowledge I was seeing him as God knew him and that this made me impervious to anger or hatred. We had a pleasant chat, and he apologized for what he called his wife’s “irrational behavior,” adding, “This too shall pass.”
I found myself rejoicing in the transforming power of God and His Christ in action. I am daily discovering that whenever uncertainty or fear tries to intrude itself even into the most mundane situation, it’s my privilege to mentally take charge, not through human belligerence, but by insisting that the Christ is present, speaking to each of us. Isn’t this what is meant in the well-loved hymn that says, “Come, cast your burdens on the Lord, / And trust His constant care” (Christian Science Hymnal, No. 124)?
Increasingly, I ask myself, “OK, God, how are you going to solve this?” I find it helps to remember that evil is never a person, place, or thing. It has no power to intimidate in a burst of “road rage,” jump queues at the post office, or bully anyone. It cannot lash out mindlessly or threaten anyone, and it cannot persuade us to react in kind. A spiritual perspective can and does transform even those who would curse us or wish to do us harm. Mrs. Eddy clearly understood the poise with which Jesus dominated his environment when she wrote, “Jesus taught us to walk over, not into or with, the currents of matter, or mortal mind. . . . Jesus stooped not to human consciousness, nor to the evidence of the senses” (Unity of Good, p. 11).
Regardless of the environment, Jesus was always comfortable, because he was ever aware that he was in God’s presence. Consistently he demonstrated that spiritual poise is power derived from God, and it is the divine antidote for all manifestations of anger. He set the standard for each of us—never quailing before the onslaught of anger. Through his example, we learn to face it down, silencing anger with confidence in the power of divine Love, which envelops each of us in spiritual armor, neutralizes personal malice, and blesses even those who think they want to injure us.
