Just before sunrise this morning, I saw Jesus walking on the fiery waters of my heart, the glorious golden ocean of my outrage. He commanded me, saying, "Don't be a goody-goody! Do some mischief in this world. God loves roughhousing."
I said, "What shall I do, Lord, for I am a man of peace."
He answered, "Are you angry?"
I said, "No, Lord."
He answered, "That's funny, because I AM."
Then he breathed a pure smokeless blue flame of fiercest love upon me. And I felt long-lost anger rise up through my backbone, undulating like a graceful maiden with a body of lightning, wearing the thinnest veil of yearning, and brandishing a diamond scimitar.
I knelt down and cried, "Lord help me, I am angry! I am angry at the slaughterers of Palestinian children and the murderers of rabbis. I am angry at those who cry, 'Peace, peace!' when there is no peace. I am angry at the merchants of war and the presidents they buy with 30 pieces of silver. I am angry at the gray-flanneled pharisees of the temple mount on Wall Street, who fill their pockets with the bread of the poor. And most of all I am angry at me, for I know not what to do!"
Then the Lord said, "Stand up!"
I stood as if on solid ground for the first time, I felt so rooted in the divine wrath. The flame of his breath smelted me melted me molded me as I stepped from the Radiance, a warrior for peace.
"What shall I do, Lord?" I asked again, with passion.
And he answered, "Do what I did. Drive the fucking money-changers out of the temple."