Feast of Mary Magdalene
Valarie Kaur describes how the Sikh faith teaches the difference between rage stirred from personal frustration and rage that fights against injustice:
In the Sikh tradition, rage, or krodh, is one of the five thieves, a destructive impulse that can hijack who we want to be. Krodh is often paired with the word kaam, which refers to unhealthy desire. Kaam krodh suggests that vengeful wrath is tied to desire: When the world denies what we want, rage rises in us. Guru Nanak calls it a corrosive salt that destroys the gold in us. At the same time, Guru Nanak spoke in fiery language against injustice. Rage, when consciously harnessed, is a force that connects us with our power to fight for others, and for ourselves. [1]
Kaur offered this wisdom during a CAC virtual gathering:
When we bottle up our rage, it can go in two different places. One is to go inward, and that leads to all of the damage it can wreak inside of our nervous systems, our psychological health, our spiritual health. We’re basically severing ourselves off from parts of our own hearts. We make ourselves sick. That is what so many women in particular have been forced to do in this culture. The other direction it can go is out to explode, creating harm, creating violence, the rage that drives the hatred and cruelty. We only have to look at the headlines to see what world that creates.
My invitation is to honor our rage, to name it, to find safe containers to process it, because it’s also a way that we love ourselves. In Sikh wisdom, the very heart of the Sikh cosmic vision is Ik Onkar, oneness ever unfolding. It’s an invitation to look at anyone or anything and say, “You are a part of me I do not yet know.” Separateness is an illusion….
The true nature of reality is that we are one, but that oneness is both inward and outward. My invitation to see no stranger also begins within. Oh, my pain! Oh, my shame! Oh, my rage! You are a part of me I do not yet know. Instead of banishing you or exiling you or suppressing you, can I be curious about you? Can I love you like a mother would?
Even the hardest, potentially most shameful parts of ourselves have the potential to give us insight for healing, growth, and transformation. The more we are able to build our capacity to love all parts of ourselves, the deeper our capacity to love all parts of the world around us, the beloved within and without. That is the shift in consciousness and culture that I believe we desperately need in order to birth a new world, a way of seeing, a way of being that leaves no one outside of our circle of care. What we need is a revolution of the heart. This is why I believe revolutionary love is the call of our times. [2]
References:
[1] Valarie Kaur, Sage Warrior: Wake to Oneness, Practice Pleasure, Choose Courage, Become Victory (One World, 2024), 220.
[2] Adapted from Valarie Kaur, with Richard Rohr and Brian McLaren, “What Do I Do with My Anger?” Center for Action and Contemplation, virtual event, March 14, 2025. Unavailable.
Image Credit and inspiration: Ricardo IV Tamayo, untitled (detail), 2021, photo, Cuba, Unsplash. Click here to enlarge image. Together, we hold the flowering of compassionate action, remembering our shared humanity and deep connection to one another and all of creation.
Story from Our Community:
Many years ago I worked as a hospital chaplain. As I arrived at work one snowy morning, I parked my car in the full parking lot. During the day, the weather warmed and melted the snow and when I emerged, I saw that I had parked diagonally across two parking spaces. There was a nasty note on my windshield that read, “Where did you learn to drive? If you park like this again, I will slash your tires.” My initial reaction was one of rage and self-righteousness. Then I looked over at the hospital tower and wondered why the person who left the note was in that parking lot. I thought—maybe his wife was about to give birth, or her father had been brought in for an emergency. Reflecting on the interior experience of the unknown person, I felt my rage soften into compassion. I prayed for them all the way home.
—Dan P.
