The Paradox of Disruption

U.S. REPRESENTATIVE John Lewis’ more than 60 years of extraordinary activism unfold in the 2020 documentary John Lewis: Good Trouble. He took his stand on the most critical issues of our times — voting rights, civil rights, health care, and more. Lewis knew firsthand that many systems and practices in our country were undemocratic, designed to benefit the few and to increasingly disempower the many. He refused to let democracy slide backward or normalize the status quo, and he called for positive, creative disruption of bad systems. Lewis’ call for people to engage in “good trouble” used the power of nonviolent disruption to leverage transformative change.

“Disruption” is a buzzword these days in the world of business and technology. Individuals at the forefront of “disruptive technologies” are often hailed as visionaries, regardless of the ends to which such disruptions are employed. In many ecclesial traditions, emphasis is placed on conserving church structures, processes, and hierarchies. This is the nature of institutions that seek to preserve traditions beyond a single generation. However, too much of this runs the risk of ossifying the tradition, such that the next generation sees no value or life in the institution. Ecclesial traditions also need prophetic energy that embraces the power of disruption to create positive change.

Disruption is complex. The lectionary texts this month invite us to see the tensions — while there are things that need to be disrupted, there are others that need to be preserved. These texts present Jesus as a disrupter of oppressive systems but also as a preserver of calm amid destructive storms. In 2024, nearly half the world’s population will vote in a national election — including the United States. As Christians, we are called to be intentional about disrupting oppressive systems and to be vigilant about preserving democratic systems that protect the most vulnerable and secure peace and justice for all.

June 2

When Systems Stifle

1 Samuel 3:1-20; Psalm 139:1-6, 13-18; 2 Corinthians 4:5-12; Mark 2:23-3:6

MARK’S GOSPEL PRESENTS two stories in which Jesus and his disciples seemingly violate Sabbath laws — first by plucking ears of grain (2:23-28) and second by healing a man with a withered hand (3:1-6). Both stories depict Jesus performing the necessary and holy act of attending to an immediate physical need, even when it disrupts a traditional practice. In these cases, the leaders responsible for maintaining the traditional system had forgotten its true purpose. Jesus did not negate the significance of Sabbath but reminded them (and us) that religious and legal systems should promote human welfare rather than restrict it. Jewish sources agree, acknowledging the rabbinic principle of pikuach nefesh (“saving a soul”), which calls for human life and welfare to be privileged over any law.

The story of Kate Cox, a pregnant woman denied an abortion in Texas late last year when facing a life-threatening health emergency, revealed the extent to which narrow religious dogma and legal systems can be weaponized to endanger life in the name of saving life. These texts in Mark invite us to examine the systems we reinforce and the reasons — and the costs — of doing so. How are we called to disrupt legal and economic systems when they stifle human welfare? Who gets to decide? Jesus’ actions help us identify when systems are used to unfairly disadvantage the most vulnerable on the pretext of honoring religious institutions and beliefs.

June 9

Don’t Enable Strongmen

1 Samuel 8:4-20; Psalm 138; 2 Corinthians 4:13 - 5:1; Mark 3:20-35

AS A SOUTH INDIAN and American, I’ve watched with great trepidation as “strongmen” with dictatorial attitudes were elected to the highest offices in both countries. Under the guise of fighting for “the people,” these strongmen simply enhanced their own personal interests. Mark 3 reminds us that Jesus must first “bind the strongman” (or the violent one) before stolen goods can be released. This phenomenon is as ancient as it is contemporary and pairs wisely with the story in 1 Samuel 8. Here, the ordinary people of Israel see unjust and corrupt judges and demand a king to govern them “like all the nations” (verse 5). God tells Samuel to remind the people how kings work: A king will conscript their sons into war, their daughters into his service economy, their lands into his private holdings, and tax them to enrich himself.

The people ignore Samuel’s warning and insist on a strongman to govern them. They love the idea of becoming a great nation more than they love their own peoples’ welfare. They are enamored with the illusions sold by a strongman more than their own freedom, dignity, and families. They are willing to sacrifice their livelihoods and even their children in exchange for a king who makes them feel invulnerable. Paradoxically, the people sought to feel powerful by ceding their own actual, God-given power to a king and kingly systems of domination. Samuel’s warning is for us today: Strongmen and kings are dangerous, and we must neither acquiesce to them nor remain indifferent.

June 16

A Disruptive Shrub

1 Samuel 15:34-16:13; Psalm 20; 2 Corinthians 5:6-17; Mark 4:26-34

IN HIS BOOK The Historical Jesus, New Testament scholar John Dominic Crossan articulates a deeply subversive aspect of the parable of the mustard seed (Mark 4:30-34). The point of this parable, notes Crossan, is not so much that the mustard seed grows into a massive tree but that the shrub gets out of control and “tends to take over where it is not wanted.” It is transgressive.

The kingdom of God is like a weed that tends to get out of control, won’t stay where you plant it, and attracts undesirable birds to cultivated areas (think grackles in your cornfield). The original Greek text implies that the seed became a great shrub and put forth large branches in order to shelter those birds who are among the smallest creatures. The greatness of the shrub becomes evident in its ability to leverage its enhanced status as a refuge. The Jesus movement was small and vulnerable in the first century, but it stood out for its disruptive nature, its ability to challenge the status quo, and most important for providing refuge to the unwanted. Ultimately, the success of all transformative movements for justice can be measured by how well they meet the needs of the least powerful among them.

June 23

Exercise Your Agency

Job 38:1-11; Psalm 107:1-3, 23-32; 2 Corinthians 6:1-13; Mark 4:35-41

IN DUTCH ARTIST Rembrandt’s only seascape, he depicts Jesus and the disciples in a brewing storm on the Sea of Galilee (Mark 4:35-41). Rembrandt masterfully captures the contrast between the frantic chaos of the disciples (grabbing for loose ropes, holding their heads, gripping the tiller, one leaning sickly over the side) and the cool, seemingly nonchalant demeanor of Jesus (surrounded by light that is both of the storm and beyond the storm). The disciples are scrambling to address the effects of the rough weather rather than confront the storm itself. Jesus rebuked the wind and said to the sea: Hush. Be still. Then to his students, Jesus says, Why weren’t you brave enough to do that?

The Markan Jesus does not downplay the destructive power of this storm but chides his disciples for not exercising their own agency in confronting its disruptive power. He’s also not happy that they assume that only Jesus can confront the forces of the storm — especially when he’s napping! Elsewhere in Mark, Jesus rebukes the disciples for their lack of confidence and failure to perform miracles. Faith is not an abstract idea in Mark’s gospel but a way of life — a capacitating force that leads to concrete actions.

As Christians, how often do we assume that political storms pounding our institutions are beyond our control, and thus fail to exercise our agency? We are called not to panic or be anxious but rather to respond in concrete ways to brewing storms, political or otherwise.

June 30

The Art of Disruption

Lamentations 3:22-33; Psalm 30; 2 Corinthians 8:7-15; Mark 5:21-43

IN MARK'S GOSPEL the narrator often begins a story, shifts to a different one, then returns to the first story to complete it. The stories of Jesus heading to heal Jairus’ daughter, only to be interrupted by the hemorrhaging woman, are important examples of such intercalation.

But these examples are as much about the woman’s action of interrupting and disrupting unfolding events as they are about Mark’s chosen order for those events.

Powerful political leader Jairus begs Jesus to help his sick daughter. Jairus had access to Jesus in ways most in the crowd did not. He approaches Jesus directly and respectfully asks for help. Is he ignorant of his privilege or just determined that with his child’s life at stake he should step to the front of the line? The disciples are anxious for Jesus to assist the well-connected Jairus over the needs of many others.

Suddenly, the unnamed, unpowerful, unconnected woman shows up. The woman had no one to intercede for her, prompting her to take matters into her own hands. She bodily places herself in Jesus’ path, interrupting his march toward the home of Jairus. Jesus, the great disrupter in the gospels, now becomes the disrupted. The woman disrupts Jairus’ line cutting. Her agency disrupts her flow of blood. She also disrupts the flow of a system stacked against her. Both Jairus’ daughter and this woman need miracles — and Jesus did not choose one over the other or pit them against each other. The Jesus movement is defined by such holy moments of disruption.