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Commentary: Will Smith could have, should have, ‘used his words’

“Anger is a form of idolatry. It is the strange god that dwells within us.”

(Chris Pizzello | AP) Presenter Chris Rock, left, reacts after being hit on stage by Will Smith while presenting the award for best documentary feature at the Oscars on Sunday, March 27, 2022, at the Dolby Theatre in Los Angeles.

“Wait. What just happened?”

“I don’t know. I think it might be a glitch with the cable.”

“No, the sound just went out. Something weird is going on. It’s like … something is missing. What is going on?”

On Sunday evening, almost 10.5 million Academy Award ceremony viewers simultaneously asked themselves those questions.

All that was missing was the old cliche: “Don’t touch that dial!” (Remember dials on televisions?)

Because there was nothing wrong with your TV. What happened is that Chris Rock made an insulting remark about Jada Pinkett Smith’s short-cropped hair, and her husband, Will Smith, rose from his seat, strode to the stage, slapped Rock, and then returned to his seat, admonishing the stunned comedian to keep any mention of Jada out of his mouth.

It was the slap heard around the world. More than a day later, we are still asking — no longer “What happened?” but something deeper: “What is the meaning of what happened?”

Granted, Rock’s comments were intemperate, perhaps cruel (did he know about Jada’s alopecia?), but hardly deserving a slap across the face.

Here is what we have not yet uncovered — the hidden, deep meaning of what went down at the Oscars.

Strip away the tuxedos and the fancy dresses. Cast away the jewelry. Roll up the red carpet. Remove years of education and degrees. Get rid of the awards. Divest yourself of all the vestiges of privilege, homes in Beverly Hills — not only in Beverly Hills, but homes, houses, dwellings anywhere.

This is what you come to realize.

This earth is, according to some estimates, 4.5 billion years old. The modern form of human beings evolved only — only! — about 200,000 years ago. “If the earth formed at midnight and the present moment is the next midnight, 24 hours later, modern humans have been around since 11:59:59 p.m. — 1 second.”

What about civilization itself — people living in communities, with language?

By some estimates, that would be only 6,000 years ago.

This means that we have been civilized for 0.03% of human history. Which means that for 99.97% of that history, we have not been civilized. At crisis moments — in history, and in our own lives — we come to realize the patina of civilization is thinner than we had ever imagined.

This is why I believe Judaism, and all religion, is still relevant. The naked truth is: Human nature has not journeyed one moral inch since the moment Cain killed Abel outside the gates of the Garden of Eden.

But more than that. There is a deeper biblical text in all this.

It appears several verses after Cain killed Abel. It is about Lamech, a descendant of Cain (Gen. 4:23):

And Lamech said to his wives,

“Adah and Zillah, hear my voice;

O wives of Lamech, give ear to my speech.

I have slain a person for wounding me,

And a lad for bruising me. If Cain is avenged sevenfold,

Then Lamech seventy and sevenfold.”

The original context of this text is obscure. So, too, is its ending — about Cain being avenged.

But several things seem clear.

Someone wounded Lamech; someone (else?) bruised him. Lamech goes ballistic on the guy — just because the guy wounded him.

Therein lies the de-evolution of humanity: from Adam and Eve to the first homicide, when Cain kills Abel, to the invention of the arts and metal work, which shows the rudimentary tools of civilization are no guarantee of civilization itself, all the way to Lamech.

From that moment, it is an easy leap to God’s regret that He (sic) had created humanity, and sends a flood to clean up the mess.

Lamech is alive and well and living in your community.

You backed into my car in the parking lot? You scraped the paint?

No problem. Just wait here while I go into the trunk of my car, take out the tire iron, and break all the windows of your car — and while I am at it, your collarbone, as well.

You insult my wife? You bang my car? Let me show you my testosterone drip. It is working overtime.

So why do we need Judaism? Judaism recognizes that within each of us, there is the yetzer ha-tov, the good inclination, and the yetzer ha-ra, the not-so-good inclination. Centuries before Freud, the ancient sages identified the yetzer ha-ra with the libido, and other things.

Destructive anger, too, is a product of the yetzer ha-ra. “Who is strong?” ask the sages. “The one who subdues his or her evil inclination, as it is stated, ‘He who is slow to anger is better than a strong man, and he who masters his passions is better than one who conquers a city (Proverbs 16:32).” (Avot 4:1)

Anger is a natural, often appropriate, human emotion. (Tell me you’re not enraged about what is going on in Ukraine.)

But surrendering to that anger in the form of physical aggression, short of someone physically attacking you or someone you care about — or anyone — yes, that anger is a form of idolatry. It is the strange god that dwells within us.

We need Judaism because it asks us — no, it compels us — to rise above the yetzer ha-ra. The mitzvot — the active pursuit of the good and the holy — creates the antidote to that dark piece within us. The act of kedusha, of sanctity, is the act by which we rise above the animal and become evermore godlike.

Not only this. We tell children, “Use your words.” So does Judaism. What gets Moses barred from entering the Land of Israel? He hit the rock in order to draw water from it, rather than following God’s command to speak to the rock.

So, yes: Our greatest teacher had an issue with anger management.

Will Smith could have done any number of things — besides going into Lamech mode. He has apologized to Chris Rock, calling his actions “inexcusable.”

But think of what would have happened if he had acted differently to defend Jada?

My friend Jessica Hentoff, artistic/executive director of Circus Harmony in St. Louis, said: “I wish Will Smith had walked up, asked for and been given the microphone, and educated people about alopecia.”

Will Smith could have used his words. Simply, movingly and with great class. Will could have taught a Torah of the heart, and he could have brought the academy to its feet.

That speech would have merited its own Academy Award: Best Moral Performance in the Midst of a Tricky Moment Involving the Insulting of Someone You Love.

The academy needs that kind of award.

Frankly, so do we.

(The views expressed in this opinion piece do not necessarily reflect those of Religion News Service.)