A humorous parable tells of three monks who died on the same day and stood before God. Having lived lives of such devotion that they were called "saints," God welcomed them warmly. However, a month later, a surprising "personnel appointment" was announced: one was sent to clean the toilets, one to the heavenly prison, and the third was named Chief of Staff.
The first two protested. "Lord, we prayed and sacrificed far more than he did! Why give us such lowly posts?"
God replied calmly, "You suppressed your anger so much that your soul became constipated. You always carry a face that makes others anxious. Thus, the restroom. And you? You spoke of forgiveness while your eyes shot daggers at everyone. You belong in the prison. But the third monk? Though he grumbled and vented his frustrations, he never let them fester. He has no hidden malice, so I keep him by my side."
The Myth of Silent Endurance
From a young age, many of us are taught that "patience is a virtue" and that a "smiling face" is the ultimate shield. We are conditioned to swallow our anger. But anger is not something to be suppressed; it is something to be processed.
When anger is bottled up, it eventually seeps out through the subconscious. Our gaze becomes sharp, our words grow thorns, and a palpable aura of resentment begins to radiate from our very pores. Ironically, the more we "endure," the more people pull away.
Furthermore, suppressed anger is a physiological poison. Anger is an energy, much like fire; if stifled, it attacks the body’s most vulnerable parts. It manifests as neurosis, chronic pain, and in extreme cases, has been linked to the onset of severe illnesses like cancer. Most dangerously, long-term suppression often leads to a sudden, catastrophic loss of control. In my time serving at a burn ward, I witnessed a couple who, after years of "quiet" marriage, ended up with third-degree burns after an argument led to a gas explosion. The common thread in such tragedies? The perpetrators were almost always described as "quiet, gentle people" who finally hit their breaking point.
The Necessity of Emotional Excretion
Anger is like emotional waste. Just as our bodies must eliminate physical waste several times a day to stay healthy, we must flush out unpleasant emotions as they arise.
In the past, Korean daughters-in-law released their frustrations through the rhythmic pounding of laundry clubs. I have my own method: a punching bag in my room. When anger flares, I strike it. Sometimes the intensity of my own rage surprises me, but as I continue, the tension slowly dissolves. Curiously, on days when my heart is truly at peace, the punching bag seems to vanish from my sight—it becomes invisible because it is no longer needed. When the anger returns, so does the bag. It is an essential tool for my spiritual life.
Venting vocally is also highly effective. Before I studied psychology, I looked askance at intoxicated people shouting into the night air. Now, I see them as perhaps the most honest and healthy among us. I have tried it myself—walking down a deserted road late at night, letting out a roar to expel the dregs of pent-up emotion. The relief is instantaneous. Even muttering to oneself, a habit the social psychologist Morrie Schwartz used to find peace, can be a valid form of emotional release.
A Healthy Soul is an Honest One
When the scriptures tell us "do not be angry," it is a warning against directing destructive rage toward others—it is not a command to let anger rot within ourselves. Even the Lord was not a man who merely suppressed his emotions.
Anger, when accumulated, becomes a disease. To be healthy in both body and spirit, we must learn the art of letting go. Flush the mind, clear the heart, and do not let the sun go down on a constipation of the soul.
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