Let me tell you a story about a man I know. I’ve known him all my life and am trying, day by day, to know him better. You may know someone like him.
About thirty years ago, his life blew up and left him in a state of quiet and relentless rage. He longed for a kind of oblivion, for respite from the tortures of his life. He gazed at the old men who bagged his groceries and marveled at their seeming happiness. His greatest aspiration was to enjoy the life of a bagger, free from responsibility other than to keep the eggs on top of the Miller High Life and the shopping carts lined up
This man had a teen age son whose life had suffered great collateral damage during the explosion and was, himself, as angry and self-destructive as a person can be. Many times, as the man lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, he wondered if this was the night his son would enter his bedroom and do him harm. Not that he would really mind.
The father and son marched, hand in hand, into the darkness, each harboring his rage at the world and at himself. It was the rage that kept them alive when joy had forsaken them. While rage is itself not a sin, it frequently does and it did result in destructive behavior, sins according to some.
Their bond was unshakable. No matter the mistakes, misalliances, misfortune, misdeeds and miseries perpetrated by one against the other, each saw as he looked into the eyes of the other a great yearning, a great understanding and an unending love.
Unlike many tunnels, this one had a light at the end. Slowly, this unlikely couple inched its way into the shadow of that light and then, with stumbling steps and much cursing, into the light itself. With the support of their faith community and with the love of a great woman, their rage had been banished by a life-giving joy and a peace which truly passes understanding. While joy is itself not a virtue, it often occasions empathetic, creative and life-giving behavior, virtues according to some.
Now, if they sit very still and listen very hard, both father and son can hear and feel the drumbeat of their rage, sometimes just below the surface of their lives. They respect that shadow and darkness as fundamental to who they are and where they have been. They know and love the joy that fills their days but also know that, should the need arise, the rage is always available to them.
Rage and joy, faces of a flipped coin in slow motion, now tending towards darkness, now towards the light, each dependent on the other and together adding to the complex nature of who we are.