Theological Disobedience

Civil disobedience can be accomplished by two forms: violating a law which is obnoxious; or symbolically enacting a law which is urgently needed. When Negroes sat-in at lunch counters, they were engaging in both forms: they violated state laws on segregation and trespassing; they were also symbolically enacting a public accommodations law even before it was written into the Civil Rights Act of 1964.
—Howard Zinn, Uncommon Sense,112

Civil disobedience got my mother arrested at a lunch counter on March 31, 1960. It was in Montgomery, Alabama, with Ralph Abernathy, one of Martin Luther King’s most trusted allies. The police blocked the street with their cars, then charged Mom and the rest with creating a public disturbance. Her mother, my Grandma, was mortified when saw her daughter on the national nightly news being loaded into a paddy wagon. As for me, born on this side of the Civil Rights Act, I’m proud of my mother’s nonviolent civil disobedience.

But I wonder about my own complacency. When I do nothing in the face of injustice, I’m engaged in the inaction of theological disobedience. When I do nothing in the face of injustice I violate a higher law which is essential and good. That law is the command of Jesus to love God and neighbor.

I’m pondering my theological disobedience this season, my sins of omission when I fail to act for what Paul calls the common good. When Virginians Against the Death Penalty keep silent vigil in front of the church each night the Commonwealth executes a convict, am I standing with them? When Equality Virginia calls on the governor to protect gay and lesbian state employees from discrimination, am I writing letters and calling my delegate and senator to insist on equal treatment? When health insurance is unavailable to 45 million Americans, am I working to align U.S. law with the compassionate healing witness of Jesus?

Let my theological disobedience end, and, if necessary, my nonviolent civil disobedience begin. I want my life to reflect the law of love. I want to be my mother’s son.

Along the Way, I wish you God’s peace on today’s stage of your Lenten spiritual journey. May Christ’s companionship bless you with confidence for the day, comfort you in trouble, and put a spring of joy in your step.