Mouth, thoughts, peace

Anger, says John Climacus, is the wish that harm should come to the one who angered you. As water little by little puts out a fire, so grief over your own faults puts it out. That is why meekness comes after it: whoever sees his own falls finds it harder to be angry at those of others.

The most useful thing in this teaching is a ladder of three degrees. The first: the mouth is silent while the heart boils. The second: the thoughts are silent too, though the soul is still disturbed. The third: complete peace, though the winds are blowing. Do not seek the third until you have mastered the first. In the first weeks there is only one aim: when you are boiling, do not speak and do not send a message.

John asked anger itself where it comes from. Anger replied that its mothers are vanity, love of money and the belly, its father is pride, and its children are rancour and hatred. So there is no single remedy. You have to find your own root: wounded pride, tiredness, fear about money, hunger.

One angry man disturbs the whole flock. One meek man calms the whole ship.

Two traps stand beside this rung. Hidden anger: silence under which hatred grows is not meekness, but something worse than shouting. And anger at your own anger: when you fall, do not rage at yourself. Admit it, apologise, go on.

The question remains: what becomes of anger that did not burn out, but settled in?

N. Ž.