The World Series is fading into memory, but one image will long endure:
Yankee pitcher Roger Clemens with his right arm cocked and ready to fire.
But instead of a ball, there's a jagged shard of baseball bat in his hand.
We all know what happened immediately before and after that
shot-seen-round-the-world was taken. Before: When Mets catcher Mike Piazza
connected with a Clemens pitch, his bat shattered and the barrel end
cartwheeled directly at a surprised Clemens, who caught it with his glove.
After: Clemens winged the bat toward the first-base line, narrowly missing
Piazza, and almost igniting a bench-clearing brawl.
No one knows exactly why Clemens reacted as he did, but it's no great
stretch to assume that anger probably played a role. Anger, after all, is
one of the most common -- and debilitating -- of all human emotions. And as
such, it is a topic of intense scrutiny and almost universal condemnation in
Our holy texts are replete with references to anger as well as its emotional
flipside -- that all-too-often-rare human impulse that nurtures
interpersonal peace and accommodation.
The Talmud, for example, sounds this cautionary note: "Consider one who
tears his clothing or breaks his vessels or scatters his money in his anger
as an idolator." (Shabbos 105b).
The Vilna Gaon, one of our greatest scholars, apparently picked up on that
theme (in his Beur HaGra to Mishlei 16:31) when he declared that anger is
one of two traits that actually prevent a person from serving G-d -- the
same G-d, incidentally, who we are instructed to emulate. The same G-d who
is described, again and again in the stirring words of the High Holiday
services, as ". . . slow to anger and abundant in kindness . . ."
A flesh-and-blood role model our tradition singles out as an exemplar of
conciliation is Aaron, the brother of Moses. None other than Hillel, no
slouch at accommodation himself, advises us to "be among the disciples of
Aaron, loving peace and pursuing peace, loving people and bringing them
closer to the Torah." (Pirkei Avos 1:12).
Why all the emphasis on mitigating strife and contention? What exactly is
wrong with anger? Well, in some cases, nothing at all.
"Anger can signal us that an injustice is being committed and motivate us to
speak up and take action to right the wrong," notes Rabbi Zelig Pliskin in
his book "Anger: The Inner Teacher" (ArtScroll). Anger, he explains, can
also stimulate the production of adrenaline, which increases our strength in
order to accomplish demanding physical tasks.
Judaism, however, generally strives for moderation in behavior, and its take
on anger is a perfect illustration of that. Just ask Maimonides, that
renowed legal codifier, philosopher and all-around Jewish renaissance man of
the 12th and early 13th centuries.
"Don't be a bad-tempered person who becomes angry easily," he wrote in his
work Hilchos De'os 1:4. "Neither should you be like a corpse that doesn't
feel anything. Rather, be in the middle. Don't become angry except over a
serious matter . . ."
In short, a little anger goes a long way. Too much of it can cloud one's
thinking, impair judgment and even prove to be physiologically harmful.
Violence is a natural consequence of uncontrolled anger and aggression,
which manifests itself in many forms, including that potentially fatal
phenomenon known as road rage. The once-friendly skies aren't even immune
anymore. "Airline rage" is now all the rage among some hyper-disgruntled
This is not just a contemporary problem, however. One noteworthy example of
anger-induced excess is found in the Bible when Jacob's sons Simeon and Levi
massacred all the men in the city of Shechem after their sister Dina had
been abducted (Genesis 34:25). What initially appeared to be a righteous act
of retribution later was condemned by Jacob as impulsive, dangerous
What could they have done otherwise? The sad truth is that cultivating
self-control is often easier said than done. But there are ways. In fact,
Rabbi Pliskin's book lists no fewer than 49 practical tools and techniques
for managing anger. They range from taking a calming sip of water to singing
a song to role playing to effectively separating oneself from a combustible
situation by mentally "going to the balcony" and watching the scene unfold
from a distance.
Another time-tested method for mitigating anger is found in Pirkei Avos, one
of Judaism's most exhaustive compendiums of ethical and moral teachings. At
one point, the sage Yehoshua ben Perachyah advises us to ". . . judge
everyone favorably." (1:6). In other words, whenever possible, give someone
the benefit of the doubt -- even if doing so might strain credibility a
little. On balance, it's probably worth it if it helps achieve peace. What's
Let's apply that standard to the case of Roger Clemens. Let's give him the
benefit of the doubt. On closer examination, perhaps anger had nothing to do
with the bat-throwing incident. Perhaps in the heat of the moment, he became
confused and really did mistake the airborne bat fragment for a batted ball.
Come to think of it, Clemens has pretty good control of his pitches. If he'd
have really wanted to nail Piazza with the bat, he probably could have,
especially at such close range. But he didn't. That must count for
something. Right, all you Mets fans?
Richard Greenberg, a freelance writer and editor in the Washington, D.C.,
area is the author of the book "Pathways: Jews Who Return," published by
Jason Aronson Inc. "Pathways" is a compendium of stories told by
once-assimilated Jews who came to embrace their spiritual roots. Mr.
Greenberg is available to discuss the book at Rickg613@aol.com
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