I’m in an on again off again dialogue with someone I know who is very passionate about a lot of things going on in our country and world right now. This isn’t a surprise because he’s basically always been that way but the last few months leading up to and since the election have greatly invigorated him. While having had some experience with civil disobedience many decades ago, to my knowledge he has not engaged in any such action in more recent years. Apparently, that has changed. A line has been crossed and he has either committed himself to some form of civil disobedience again or is contemplating it. According to him, he is being forced into this as it is not his behavior of choice. He would rather work within a system that respects civility. But that line has been breached pretty much wholesale, as I would characterize his opinion, and he is left with little choice. He is not alone.

His potential decision to act in defiance of the civil structures designed to keep society as smoothly functioning as possible is understandable, especially given the long history of this kind of thing. Whereas many of us try to keep our lives organized within certain boundaries, there may come the moment when we can’t help claiming some form of “desperate times call for desperate measures.”

I not only understand this but have a lot of respect for it. After all, laws made by man are inherently fallible, which should be obvious. Even the original U.S. Constitution (which you may recall replaced the fallible formerly original constitution named the Articles of Confederation) only survived a few years until it was modified … and it has been modified literally or figuratively ever since. And, this is the foundation for many thousands upon thousands of laws in our country!

Most of us can point to all sorts of laws we deem inappropriate or even downright abhorrent. And, by extension, we deem those who support or enforce these laws as anywhere from misguided to evil.

Remarkably, we often hold the disobeyers in the highest regard, while vilifying those they disobeyed. On the flip side, most often we regard those who uphold the laws we like (and we probably like a whole lot of laws in actuality) as decent and good people who are doing their best to hold a society of very fallible people together so we can live in a functioning civilization. Of course, even anarchists have rules.

If you ask most high school kids these days, and give them a few moments to think, about who the most famous civil disobeyers were, they’d probably say Gandhi and Martin Luther King. Perhaps with some reminders and prompting, they’d remember Samuel Adams, John Hancock and a passel of colonial Americans in the latter 18^th century. Some more might think of groups like the abolitionists who did everything from write pamphlets, to shepherd escaping slaves to taking the British Parliament by storm to burning and killing. Some might mention events such as the race riots of the 1960s and the riots following events like that involving Rodney King or, recently at Ferguson, Missouri and in similar situations.

I would have probably given a semester A on the spot to a history student who raised his or her hand and cited the German pastor, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, one of the great figures of the 20^th century who has had a profound impact on the notion of civil disobedience and on my thinking.

Interestingly, and I say this quite pointedly, I expect very, very few would say Jesus.

I say, interestingly, because he had such tremendous influence on everyone from many of those rebellious colonials who believed in unalienable rights derived from a creator, to the abolitionists who fought to destroy a practice that was so evil and widespread across multiple civilizations, to Gandhi, Bonhoeffer and, of course, the Reverend and Christian Martin Luther King.

Each one of these figures and groups stood up to a vastly superior power and said, “I’ve had enough.” They may have even thought or said something to the effect of, “I’ve tried to play nice but now it’s time to take off the gloves.” Or, something to that effect.

I remember studying something in graduate school as I pursued my Masters degree in Theology that was called the stage theory of moral development. Largely built upon the work of developmental psychologists such as Piaget and Erickson that called to our attention how our understanding of things matures as old constructs give way to better ones, a Harvard psychologist by the name of Lawrence Kohlberg said there are six stages, from pre-conventional through conventional to post conventional. Without getting overly technical, pre-conventional moral reasoning is really all based upon getting for me what I want … as most small children and some arrested adults do. Conventional is when we recognize that there are norms and rules that should govern how we look at good and bad and right and wrong and it’s actually a good thing to follow them, even if we sometimes don’t want to. Post-conventional moral reasoning is when we arrive at the place where we realize that norms and rules designed to govern civil society may not have ultimate meaning. We may be guided by a set of principles that are greater than our laws or customs. Kohlberg reserved the highest Stage 6 for Gandhi, King and Jesus and those who reason like they do.  Kohlberg was rightfully critiqued for a number of things (I saw and still see merit in much of his thinking but saw holes in his arguments) but I’m glad he gave us this kind of framework. It helps in understanding how and why people think certain ways and make certain moral choices. As an unfortunate aside, I learned some years later that he committed suicide, which gave me pause.

Bear with me for awhile. I bring this background up because I think we’re at an interesting point in America and around the world. Not that all points aren’t interesting, but this is a particularly profound era. As an historian of sorts and an observer and thinker of many things, there are tectonic shifts afoot. For starters, we are in the midst of the third true economic revolution in the history of our species. The first was 10,000 years ago when nomadic peoples began to coalesce around agriculture and they formed towns, cities and governments. We call it the Agrarian Revolution and it lasted a very, very long time. Many thousands of years. It changed many aspects of life deeply and fundamentally. The second one started in England in the 18^th century and, to varying degrees, lasted anywhere from 100-200 years, depending upon your metrics. It was called the Industrial Revolution. It was just as deeply disruptive as its predecessor but in a dramatically accelerated way. Political revolutions from France to the US to many of the European countries to the communist and fascist revolutions of the 20^th century were all byproducts. I remember coming to full realization in the early 1980s that we were now embarked in the third such total revolution and that it was bound to dramatically change so much again. But, knowing it would be just as dramatic held second fiddle to the realization that I would probably witness most of the whole thing in my lifetime. We call this revolution many things: The Technological Revolution, The Information Revolution, etc.. It really doesn’t matter. Because it’s here and we’re living in the middle of it and it’s a really big deal and it’s VERY disruptive. To everything. Or at least, almost everything.

All of this connected. Disruptions breed disruptions. Revolutions breed revolutions. While many rebellions or acts of civil disobedience are not at all tied to great worldwide forces as the three I’ve just mentioned, they are a common response by people who are fed up that the system, whatever it is, is no longer working, it’s no longer responsive to their needs, it does not understand their principles and they feel compelled to get off the sidelines and take a stand.

While I’m not really going to get into politics here and debate some of the issues, this is why the Tea Party rose up in the last decade and why outliers such as Trump and Sanders garnered so much support. This is also why people who oppose Trump and his people do so vigorously. Layer in all of the other forces at work in a world undergoing the third complete economic-based revolution in human history and we have quite the recipe for disruptive behavior.

Well all of that shouldn’t really tell us a ton but leaves us with the question of what would warrant our acting civilly disobedient? And, perhaps more importantly, what would that action look like and on what basis would we make our decisions?

After all, we can nod our heads in appreciation for people like King or the rebellious colonials or the abolitionists (ok, even the southern confederates who did a huge act of disobedience, only part of which was around the slavery issue but also very much because they were tired of the oppression of wealthy northern manufacturing interests). We often admire such people for laying their lives on the line as did Gandhi, King, Bonhoeffer, Jesus, etc… who were all murdered for their beliefs. But, what does this mean for us in any practical sense?

I think the first thing we need to do is to determine the principle that underscores the call to action. What is that principle? Do we really believe it? Have we or they really thought it through?

Unfortunately, much that might be characterized as civil disobedience (the principled opposition we’ve been talking about) is frequently just mob behavior. And, this is not to be underestimated. The mob is an interesting phenomenon: A thing that might have seen its gestation in principled opposition but develops a life of its own that is self-justifying, rather than the justification of a principle. I may talk about this a bit more in a little bit.

Once we make the decision to defy civil authority, how far are we willing to go? Will we choose to behave in ways that we might otherwise not support? In other words, will the ends justify new means?

Of course, most who choose this course have already at least broadly thought about the risks. And there are risks.

Many go to prison. Certainly, Gandhi and King did. Bonhoeffer even went back to Germany when he didn’t have to, penning a book entitled The Cost of Discipleship. Read it someday when you’re bored. And, of course, all three of these men were murdered, as I said.

And this brings us to the tools we use as we cross the line into civil disobedience. To me, this is a big deal and if we don’t think about it and pay attention, we can lose more than we know.

Some may say that nothing’s off the table. The classic question is would you have wanted a German citizen to assassinate Hitler? Most people would say yes. Even Bonhoeffer, a Christian pastor, finally crossed the line to support the attempt on Hitler’s life. Some will argue that violence does have its place when the conditions approximate a life and death struggle as in a full blown war.

I have asked myself this question many times. I have Jewish heritage and know of relatives who were exterminated, to put a fine point on it. I applaud the characters in WWII movies who portray the French underground, although this was clearly a war. The argument goes, however, that had many of these Europeans acted forcefully to oppose tyranny earlier than many tens of millions would not have died.

I have played this reel over and over in my head for as long as I can remember. I demonstrated in my youth. I faced off with my own high school principal and helped stage a small school walk out. I joined campaigns and decried injustice. I refused the requirement to stand and say the Pledge of Allegiance in my 9^th grade second period science class in 1968 because I couldn’t truthfully say the final words, “and justice for all.” I got in big trouble and was sent to the principal’s office with my mother. Thankfully, we reached a compromise. I have worked with the farm workers on the fringes and walked precincts in the ghetto and barrio. On a very few occasions I ignored and did not enforce some particular part of the Education Code or district policy because I didn’t agree with it. While some of these and other actions were within the system and some outside of it, I tried to always act on principle but I am not perfect and I still struggle with where the line is and if and when I am called to cross it.

I remember thinking in my intensely activist days of late teens and early 20s that I would not survive to 30 because I would die or be killed for some cause. I really believed this and it did not trouble me greatly. This memory is not forever buried. From time to time it bubbles up and I reflect that it’s still possible, however unlikely, that this will still happen. I wonder about the form it would take. What would be the issue that would push me beyond simple opposition to active resistance that would likely result in jail or even death? Perhaps you don’t think of these things but I do. Not often, but sometimes. To me, it’s the healthy understanding that some things, some principles, carry more weight than my life and safety. I have an idea of what those things could be.

Which brings me to the final part of this and if you’ve been reading these things, you’ll probably know where it’s going. And, it’s the source of how I make judgments on the nature of civil disobedience and any possible role I would ever be called to play out.

There has been no greater or more significant act of civil disobedience in all of human history than the one conducted by Jesus. Honestly, I knew a lot of this before I decided to truly follow him but my comprehension of it has deepened by many orders of magnitude. In effect, as much as I knew before, I had no idea.

The evidence of his life before he launched his three year public ministry is extremely sketchy. But there is tremendous evidence of those three years, all of which served as a most powerful form of civil disobedience … a disruption so profound it turned empires upside down and still reverberates today.

And then, of course, there is his final act, an absolutely stunning demonstration, especially when fully comprehended.

There are many fascinating elements to this part of his story. People tend to cherry pick the parts they like while swiftly moving through the parts they don’t like. I believe that’s a mistake if we are to understand its significance with any depth or credibility.

Let’s get a couple of simple basics out of the way. For starters, the small part of broader Palestine which was the Jewish homeland and kingdom, and seat for the God they believed in, was in a backwater part of the world. The massive and all-powerful Roman Empire viewed it as a sore spot without much meaning. The Jews had largely occupied that space for a millennium and more but were often subject to the oppressive might of more powerful neighbors. Rome was the latest. They lamented and desperately hoped for the coming of God’s anointed one, their promised and prophesied Messiah, who would permanently release them from captivity, delivering them permanently as Moses had done temporarily long before … and usher in a whole new deal, with them at the top. There were all sorts of factions who wanted to get rid of Roman rule, including people called Zealots who sought to incite insurrection and violence. Into this mess, lands an itinerant preacher and rabbi from the most backwater part of this backwater region, a place called Nazareth. He preaches things that had never been heard before anywhere in not only that region or culture but anywhere in all of human history. This cannot be taken lightly. His words were unbelievably defiant and they upended the reality that everyone knew to be true. They were so threatening to a certain order of things that it’s no wonder those in immediate power (the religious leaders of the day) sought quickly for the means to kill him. Interestingly, the even more powerful rulers (the Romans) could not have cared less because his threat was not physical and he did nothing to oppose the massive oppressive system they used to control, terrify and even kill the people.

This is not to be missed. His disobedience was not towards the real center of power, the one that was the most brutal in history, regularly torturing people and keeping many of them impoverished. It was against the religious authorities because he preached an alternative view of reality to the one they so tightly held on to.

I could go on and on forever on this topic but I want to come to my final points.

First, Jesus always knew his message and life would result in his ultimate arrest and death and he was willing to go down that road, despite the pleas of so many of his followers. In other words, he had a line and knew that it must be crossed and that he would suffer mortally.

Second, he was incredibly calm and focused about all of it. He almost never showed anger and while he was overtly challenging the civil leaders at every turn, risking his life, he was calm and at times filled with great joy. On only a couple of occasions did he show a real temper, while by almost all accounts his behavior towards the rulers was very measured and peaceful. He openly challenged their system and worked hard to get others to similarly respond but he did not do so out of anger, but more out of a combination of specific direction and love. He offered them a different story and then moved on. This piece about anger is huge to me. It cuts to the core of how we should behave when we feel severely wronged. It even deserves some special attention here.

Anger is a natural emotion and I see nothing wrong with it. It’s a human thing and can be completely justified. The problem though, with this and other emotions is when they jump the banks and flood into areas that are destructive. Jesus taught this, actually. With anger, it can quickly turn to contempt which Jesus (and I, for that matter) decry. Contempt is something toxic. It’s a cancer and it hardens the heart and makes love (a very good thing … the thing) that much more difficult or even impossible. (For Star Wars fans, this is what Luke tried to get Darth Vader to understand in the end.)

And, this is what I see a tremendous amount of today. The shouting. The fist pumping. Veins popping. Incessant vitriol pointing righteous fingers at the opposition.

And it repels me.

Because anger given over to self-righteousness (the attention-grabbing and refusal to actually sit down and consider that the other side might have a reasonable point of view) is the most destructive force. It caused the Reign of Terror in France in their famous revolution just after ours. It caused the systematic destruction of those deemed in the opposition. It is very different from the dispassionate and focused direction of the warrior.

You may deal Jesus up as just a man who was primarily interested in social justice. That would be a big mistake. You may deal him up as just a loving shepherd. That would be a mistake. You may deal him up as a liar or a crazy man (both of which fold under reasonable scrutiny). Or you may accept he is who he says he is and that he’s giving us the only advice that really matters: From God.

In the end, he passively submitted to the soldiers sent from the religious leaders. This passivity was actually a remarkable action that was anything but passive. It was overtly defiant. He was tortured and then brought before the representative of the Emperor who gave him a chance to escape but he declined to take the bait. Pilate could find no fault but ended up acting for political reasons, not ones of justice, and Jesus was put to death.

The last hours of Jesus’ life and the way he lived them has challenged countless millions to confront deep dilemmas about how to live one’s life in a broken world. Like most of his teaching, we are required to peel away layers of assumptions to get at the kernel of truth that lies brightly at the center. Sometimes these kernels seem obvious before we realize we’ve only glanced across the surface, only much later arriving at astounding conclusions. Sometimes these truths seem bathed in contradictions that force us to confront complex realities. We may rush to conclusions and get caught up in the whirlwind of positions and frenzied action. With respect to Jesus, both believing Christians and those who do not believe Jesus is who he says he is but identify him as a model of social justice activism, can fall into traps by selectively making claims to his authority. Would he support any form of violence as he physically acted out near the end in the Temple? Or, does he oppose violence as a means of resolving disputes by teaching us to turn the other cheek and love one’s enemies? Or is it ambiguous as he tells Peter to put down his sword because he who lives by the sword dies by the sword?

All of this gets wrapped up in potentially competing principles. We may be called to act out in the interest of justice because not to do so would be to countenance evil. We may be called to resist violence because we know that violence, once unleashed, can take on a life of its own and destroy so much, including our souls.

In a purely secular sense, these moral decisions can sometimes be tied to the principle of utilitarianism, or doing what’s best for the greatest number. Or they can be tied to a socially-constructed context of what is right or wrong … some man-made set of precepts without an overarching narrative.

I was in conversation with a group of men early this morning that touched upon this topic. All are committed followers of Jesus who offer transparent windows into their lives as we struggle to know what is right and good. We have different life experiences and perspectives on certain things but are united in our willingness to take on the hard stuff, even though they may expose inadequacies and failures. I took a lot away from our meeting as I always do. For the purpose of helping bring this long essay to conclusion, I’ll mention two things. The first is that one man said that for the first time in his life recently he suddenly asked himself if he would be willing to go to jail and what might trigger that. The second is that another man, a retired Naval captain, teared up when he recounted how a dear friend was eulogized this weekend with the two words that he was both gentle and kind. A thoughtful professional businessman considering being jailed for his beliefs and actions. And a retired warrior who recognizes and lives a life himself with the principles of gentility and kindness. Both men are disciples (as were King, Bonhoeffer and even Gandhi), daily struggling with what a life well-led should look like. Both are doing an amazing job of identifying foundational principles, holding them up to the light, seeking advice and dialogue and doing so with tremendous humility, recognizing their many limitations and inadequacies. Neither is paralyzed by inaction because of potential complexities but they are galvanized each day to carry through on these principles.

So, I come to the end, for now. My questions remain. While I seem to know some things quite well, others remain somewhat masked and that’s ok. Because I think the important thing for me (and many others I know) is to listen for the call. Because it can come at any time as I have found from experience. And, when it comes, there is rarely ambiguity. It arrives as a prompt or question. Without God, of course, there is no need. It’s just “make up your mind.” With God, the equation completely changes. One moment, the solider is talking with his comrades, all of whom want to return home safely, and the next he inexplicably hurls himself in the line of fire or on the grenade so his friends can live.

Here is what I know.

It is right to oppose injustice. It is not right to accept it and leave aspects of the battle to someone else. It can be very confusing about what that looks like and a response can take many forms.

We cannot change the world and we can’t save humanity. But, we can find foundational principles and identify their source so we can be as firm as possible in our convictions. Then, we can affect change on smaller scales. We can affect lives and help make the world a better place.

It is sometimes not wrong to be angry but it is always wrong to let anger control us. Regardless of our actions or decisions, we should resist the seductive voice that starts out with a sense of righteousness but grabs ahold, puffs us up, and now it’s not the thing which is righteous but it’s us. The battle is not only out there over some issue or cause or threat but it is in here, in our hearts.

A life well-lived requires risk. It is not safe. We need to embrace this fact and be deliberate in trying to understand what that means for each of us.

Here is the account by a German doctor of Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s last moments. It deserves a careful reading and meditation.

“On the morning of that day between five and six o’clock the prisoners were taken from their cells and the verdicts of the court martial read out to them. Through the half-open door in one room of the huts I saw Pastor Bonhoeffer, before taking off his prison garb, kneeling on the floor, praying fervently to his God. I was most deeply moved by the way this unusually lovable man prayed, so devout and so certain that God heard his prayer. At the place of execution, he again said a short prayer and then climbed the steps to the gallows, brave and composed. His death ensued after a few seconds. In the almost fifty years that I worked as a doctor, I have hardly ever seen a man die so entirely submissive to the will of God.”

We can look for guidance and wisdom in all sorts of places or we can choose to seek neither, relying upon the belief that we just inherently know the right thing to do. I have lived part of my life too attuned to the latter and not enough to the former. I once thought it was all about the search but as I’ve said before, that is just so much fluff. It’s actually about the find. Who or what is it that we find and can rely upon for guidance and wisdom? Isn’t that the great question?

I do not know whether I will be called to act again in defiance of authority in a way that may this time place my freedom and safety at risk. I understand that is possible and I believe it’s something every Christian should consider for obvious reasons. Non-Christians can have their own reasons.

I apologize for how long and wandering this is. Perhaps even sloppy. I know I left a lot out and I’ll probably regret later that I did not state something clearly or that I had not adequately thought things through. Thank you for your patience.

In the end, regardless of any path my life might take, I can only wish that someone would reflect upon me in a eulogy and say, “He was gentle and kind.” and “He died entirely submissive to the will of God.”

Amen.