Anger and wrath, these also are abominations,
     yet a sinner holds on to them.
 The vengeful will face the Lord’s vengeance,
     for he keeps a strict account of their sins.
 Forgive your neighbor the wrong he has done,
     and then your sins will be pardoned when you pray.
 Does anyone harbor anger against another,
     and expect healing from the Lord?
 If one has no mercy toward another like himself,
     can he then seek pardon for his own sins?
 If a mere mortal harbors wrath,
     who will make an atoning sacrifice for his sins?
 Remember the end of your life, and set enmity aside;
     remember corruption and death, and be true to the commandments.
 Remember the commandments, and do not be angry with your neighbor;
     remember the covenant of the Most High, and overlook faults.

New Revised Standard Version, copyright 1989, by the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved. USCCB approved.

Today’s reading from Sirach warns against the danger of wrath and anger, particularly when fueled by frustration with a neighbor. While we readily seek God’s mercy for our own faults, we often fail to extend that same grace to those who upset us.

Sirach reminds us that nursing anger breeds bitterness, leading to internal "death and decay" and a toxic urge to cling to vengeance. Instead, we are commanded to "remember the Most High’s covenant”, and “overlook faults." This is easier said than done (especially for me at times), but it is entirely possible if we pause and rely on God’s loving grace.

By taking a deep breath to check our emotions and praying for the Holy Spirit’s gifts of composure and mercy, we can move into a more tranquil, caring space—empowering us to "set enmity aside" and truly forgive.

—Br. Mark Trombley, SJ, is a Jesuit of the Midwest Province studying philosophy at Loyola University Chicago and working at Loyola Academy in Wilmette, IL.

Dear Lord and Father of humankind,
 Forgive our foolish ways;
 Reclothe us in our rightful mind,
 In purer lives Thy service find,
 In deeper reverence, praise.

Drop Thy still dews of quietness,
 Till all our strivings cease;
 Take from our souls the strain and stress,
 And let our ordered lives confess
 The beauty of Thy peace.

Breathe through the heats of our desire
 Thy coolness and Thy balm;
 Let sense be dumb, let flesh retire;
 Speak through the earthquake, wind, and fire,
 O still, small voice of calm.

—John Greenleaf Whittier (American Quaker Poet)