Today found me severely angry. I was mad due to what I perceived to be a petty and un-just move by a work colleague. I should also state for the record, this move did not affect me in any way, but that didn’t matter to me at the time. Usually I email people when I’m mad. I think I make up witty and water tight arguments that expose them for the frauds they are. However, I usually expose myself for being easily angered, unforgiving, and unmerciful. Also spiteful, mind as well write them all down.
How does one right wrongs without calling out the ones who are wrong? How does one be passionate without being overly excitable? Balance is sorely needed, and I am finding myself quite surprised by the lessons I am learning in this book.
I cracked through quite a bit of Jane Eyre last night. She’s now living with the St. John’s in the Moor House. But I still love young Jane much more than older calmer Jane, (who is about nine years younger than me, but no biggie). Younger Jane got mad, and when she got mad she let people know. I get mad, try to tell people why, and end up crying hot angry tears “A La” Ms Halcolmbe, or emailing scathing letters… but I’ve told you that. One of the many frustrating things about that state of mind, is you can’t express yourself the way you want to.
If people were always kind and obedient to those who are cruel and unjust, the wicked people would have it all their own way: they would never feel afraid, and so they would never alter, but would grow worse and worse. When we are struck at without reason, we should strike back again very hard; I am sure we should – so hard as to teach the person who struck us never to do it again.
Ah justice I breathe justice. My favorite part of Disney’s “The Hunchback of Notre Dame” is when Esmeralda yells justice. Ahhh, but who is the most just of them all? A surprising young student pointed me back the way I had forgotten I was supposed to go.
|Click on pic for link to where I got it. [There’s a swear in it… lol]
Thank God for Helen Burns. I forgot about her from the movie. Her quiet acceptance, (yes too quiet, too accepting), of her un-justified punishments by that harsh old teacher at Lowood struck Jane with just as much curiosity as that same attitude in people strikes me.
“You dirty, disagreeable girl! you have never cleaned your nails this morning!”
Burns made no answer; I wondered at her silence. “Why,” thought I, “does she not explain that she could neither clean her nails nor wash her face, as the water was frozen?”
Helen had an answer for both of us;
Helen: “It is weak and silly to say you cannot bear what it is your fate to bear.”
Jane: I could not comprehend this doctrine of endurance…I felt that Helen Burns considered things by a light invisible to my eyes. I suspected she might be right and I wrong; but I would not ponder the matter deeply: Like Felix, I put it off to a more convenient season.
Jane’s season came much sooner than anticipated, the very next chapter has her being unjustly punished in front of the entire school. Despite thinking she was going to freak out and yell them all down because, “I was no Helen Burns”, (probably one of my favorite lines so far); she withstands the persecution mutely. But why? It may have had something to do with Helen’s faith. Helen answers Jane’s earlier questions about how she could possibly stand the un-justified cruelty with this example; “It is not violence that overcomes hate – nor vengeance that most certainly heals injury.”
So when my ‘just’ little conscience jumps up and starts screaming for and eye for an eye I must re-tell myself what I once knew by heart.
Read the New Testament, and observe what Christ says. and how he acts; make his word your rule, and his conduct your example… Love your enemies; bless them that curse you; do good to them that hate you and despitefully use you.”
Thank God for Helen Burns. Vengeance is not mine, I constantly screw it up. And to those that would say “If we love everyone then where is justice?” Well, Justify in love why don’t you? Instead of taking pride in pointing out the wrong, do it because it must be done, and with no malice. For we are all children playing at being adults, and when Jane speaks her mind and vengefully slams her evil stepmother, the result is unexpected.
First, I smiled to myself and felt elate; but this fierce pleasure subsided in me as fast as did the accelerated throb of my pulses. A child cannot quarrel with its elders, as I had done, cannot give its furious feelings uncontrolled play, as I had given mine, without experiencing afterwards the pang of remorse and the chill of reaction.
No I am not a child, but when I speak as a child in anger, I feel like a child in shame. As much as I enjoy the young Jane more, and find her fiery and feisty, I strive to be more like the older Jane. One I will write about later, as I am no longer angry, and hopefully will stay away from emailing anyone anytime soon. You see, I am growing up.