The Spiritual Priest Is Far from Anger and Nervousness

The Spiritual Priest Is Far from Anger and Nervousness
The word “nervousness” is taken from the word Nerves. The one who becomes nervous is the one whose nerves ignite in his anger. This is a repulsive sin. The people do not expect it from a priest who is characterized by meekness (Matthew 11:29), nor from a priest who is the image and likeness of God (Genesis 1:27).
Just as the sin of nervousness is repulsive, it is also an exposed sin.
If the priest falls short in his private prayers or in his readings, this is not apparent to people. Likewise, if he sins in thought, heart, or intention. But in nervousness, his weakness is exposed: an inability to endure, a loss of calmness, and a failure to control himself.
Through nervousness, people are repelled from him, and perhaps from the Church as well.
The people love to see the priest cheerful, radiating peace.
The peace that is within him spreads peace to everyone who sees or hears him. Thus, in all his dealings, they expect from him the spirit of fatherhood, a gentle smile, and words of tenderness and encouragement, and that he would confront their mistakes with deep calmness—like a piece of clay thrown into the depths of the ocean, which the great sea absorbs and dissolves within itself, presenting on its surface clear water. Thus is the priest in his calmness.
But if people’s souls are disturbed when they collide with his anger, they suffer severe frustration and confusion regarding idealism and religion.
Especially if this nervousness appears in dealing with children, who are frightened by his facial expressions and the tone of his voice during anger, and who do not see in him the image of Christ nor the tenderness of fathers. The image of nervousness remains stuck in their minds and may distance them from the Church.
As for adults, they stumble regarding the possibility of practically implementing God’s commandments, if the clergy themselves do not practice them in their lives.
The angry priest cannot benefit people by his preaching, nor by his prayers, nor do they find comfort in confessing to him.
For if he has not triumphed in his spiritual life, has not been able to resist anger, and has not trained himself to endure the weaknesses of others and to acquire the virtues of gentleness and kindness, how can he then lead others spiritually and guide them in acquiring such virtues and others?
And how can he say to the people in his prayers, “Peace be with you all,” while he himself has not preserved peace in his dealings? He who lacks something cannot give it.
What is strange is that the angry priest tries to justify his anger and philosophize it, and searches for verses from the Holy Bible that call for it.
Such as clinging strongly to the saying of the Apostle Paul to his disciple Timothy the bishop: “Rebuke, exhort, teach” (2 Timothy 4:2), or to his saying in the Epistle to the Hebrews: “For what son is there whom a father does not discipline?” (Hebrews 12:7).
Here we say that discipline or rebuke occurs in specific cases that have their importance, and it is not, of course, a fixed trait in the priest that he uses continually.
There is also a great difference between firmness and nervousness.
The priest can be firm in certain situations that require firmness, without falling into nervousness, which is lack of control over the nerves.
In firmness, he puts everything in its proper place calmly and without noise, through the power of persuasion, not through the sharpness or elevation of voice.
Persuasion is more stable and deeper in effect, and it is a spiritual method, even though it requires some effort and wisdom in behavior. But some priests prefer to spare themselves this effort, contenting themselves with the method of command, authority, and harshness. This method has an unspiritual appearance, and it also has bad results and reactions.
One of the problems of nervousness is that it contains within it other sins.
First, it is not a good example for people and does not give them a good model in dealing with others. In nervousness there is a loss of humility, as Saint Dorotheos said: “The humble person does not anger anyone, nor does he become angry with anyone.” Nervousness is against cheerfulness and kindness, against meekness and endurance, and it is sometimes against love, because “love does not behave rudely” (1 Corinthians 13:5).
I can also say that nervousness is against wisdom, for the wise person chooses a better method in his dealings, one that avoids all the previous mistakes. Of course, all these mistakes are absolutely unfitting for the priestly father.
If the motive for the priest’s anger is his desire to impose his own will, clinging to his opinion even when the other opinion is correct, then his anger becomes a double or compound sin, and his stumbling becomes deeper.
Here also enters love of authority, as he feels that whoever opposes him is attacking his authority or dignity, or interfering in something within his jurisdiction, or sharing control over the Church. Therefore, he becomes agitated and angry, and may even rage.
Authority may also enter the matter if something is done without consulting him or without his knowledge, even if it is sound. He wants to be in control of everything in all matters of the Church, and to be the reference for all actions and procedures, whether spiritual, social, or administrative.
By grasping all authority, he prevents workers in the Church from freedom of movement.
If they move freely, he becomes angry and nervous with them, and through this anger he makes them angry with him, feeling that in their service within the Church they are greatly restricted by the chains of authority and threatened by anger that may trouble the conscience of some of them. Some may see fit to withdraw from service in that church in order to preserve their inner peace.
The phrase of the priestly father, “Whoever opposes is ruined,” rings in their ears. One of them is labeled “opposer” and “ruined,” not because he opposed an order, but because he did not consult in every matter and did not come under the cloak of authority.
Through nervousness, he appears before people as a ruler rather than a father—and not even an ordinary ruler, but a harsh one.
How easy it is to be a tender, gentle father, while at the same time no one denies his leadership in the Church. But unfortunately, in his insistence on harsh authority, he loses the tenderness of fatherhood, loses kindness of heart, disturbs the souls of others, becomes a stumbling block, and his stumbling increases if others imitate his style.
Through his anger, he proves that he does not accept the other opinion and does not tolerate discussion.
He may even say to one who debates or disagrees with him: “Have you become so bold as to debate and oppose your father?!”
Here, whether he feels it or not, feelings of infallibility begin to enter him—his opinion becomes infallible. Gradually, he tries to crush his opponents or humiliate them. Whoever works with him must lose his personality and know nothing but obedience without discussion—what they call blind obedience. Otherwise, the volcano opens its mouth and pours out fire.
Sometimes the priest calls his anger “anger for the sake of truth.”
If you are angry, O father, for the sake of truth, first ask yourself: is it right to be angry? And what is the method of holy anger? Is holy anger the method of loud and sharp voice?
Look then at how God spoke to Elijah while he was fleeing from Jezebel:
“A great and strong wind tore into the mountains and broke the rocks in pieces… but the Lord was not in the wind. And after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. And after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire.” Finally, “a still small voice” said: “What are you doing here, Elijah?” (1 Kings 19:11–13).
Train yourself in this still small voice with which the Lord spoke to His servant Elijah.
If you find your voice rising, say to yourself: perhaps my heart has risen, and my voice rose with it. Then fear and humble yourself.
Beware lest your voice gradually rise and turn into noise—and then you will not be able to say that it is holy noise.
Do not make people’s relationship with you summarized in two words: command and obedience—command from your side and obedience from theirs.
A person may obey you out of fear, not out of satisfaction; he may obey while grumbling inwardly, and his grumbling may reach others who share it with him.
But if you convince him, he benefits from you with a new lesson, and his obedience comes from his heart, and he can convey his conviction to others.
It is also difficult when the priest becomes angry over material matters, or over personal matters, or because of his insistence on taking responsibilities that others carry out. Through such anger, he reveals feelings or traits deep within his psyche that do not agree with the idealism the people expect from him.
The people may then intervene to reconcile or correct the priest.
The Priest and Anger
It is not permissible for the priest to be angry, for his anger repels people not only from the priest but also from the entire Church.
Through his anger, he does not give his children an example of meekness and calmness, nor of endurance, nor of humility.
Perhaps in his anger he falls into other sins. Anger is an exposed sin that causes people to stumble in him.
The angry priest is a person who uses authority, not love.
People do not expect a man of religion to be like this; rather, they expect him to be an example in love, gentleness, compassion, and endurance of others’ weaknesses, just as Christ endured our sins.
The people love the priest to be cheerful, to have the spirit of fatherhood, a gentle smile, and words of tenderness and encouragement, spreading peace and reassurance in their souls. But if their souls are disturbed upon meeting him—through his anger—they suffer severe psychological frustration.
Even if the priest thinks that he is angry with holy anger for the sake of truth, this should be without nervousness and without agitation.
He should put everything in its proper place with firmness, not with noise, through the power of persuasion, not through sharpness and raised voice.
Persuasion is more stable, even though it requires some effort; yet some priests prefer to spare themselves this effort, contenting themselves with command, authority, and harshness.
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