Abuelita Faith
Book Review (Kat Armas)
Continuing my commitment to read theological works by non-white non-male authors, I picked up this volume by Kat Armas, who writes as a Cuban-Americam Latina woman about what marginalised women can teach us about "wisdom, persistence, and strength". And there's a lot I like in this book. I appreciate the way it weaves between past and further past and present and Biblical texts. Women have been and very often are marginalised, and there's tremendous value in listening and learning from them and their experiences.
I don't intend, however, to review the whole book here, but instead to engage in more depth with a couple of sections in particular.
Foray one:
In chapter two where Armas is situating her work in terms of other theologians, she considers the exodus narrative firstly in light of a theology of liberation (which I am sympathetic to), but then counter-voices that offer a decolonizing reading. These include Robert Warrior who "argues that the exodus promotes a conquering narrative ultimately premised on the genocide of the Indigenous people of the promised land" (p.53) and Palestinian Christian Jean Zaru who argues "that perhaps “the God of that portion of the biblical account is the God of people’s consciousness and perception rather than the God who really is.” (p.54) Armas suggests that we need to wrestle with the text, as Wilda Gafney says, until it gives us a blessing (echoing Genesis 32).
Here's where I would say that I am sympathetic to the difficult questions but that doesn't necessarily mean I agree with the answers and readings others come up with. We ought to ask some very hard questions of the Exodus narrative, of how the Israelite conquest of the Land occurs, what that means for the people there, what a consideration of Indigenous and Palestinian perspectives might show us. I think those are indeed pressing and difficult questions. I'm not at all convinced by Zaru's suggestion that 'God' in this portion of the Bible can be written off as "well, just at this point it's not really God-God, it's made-up-God", precisely because we then aren't wrestling with the text so much as bringing an idea of who and what God can be allowed to be and making that our rule of interpretation.
Foray two:
In chapter five ("Telling La Verdad") Armas begins with the scene of the weekly domino game, which gets to the point of a life lesson - "we speak the truth no matter what". Armas then shifts to a biblical story, that of Huldah the prophet(ess) in 2 Kings 22 and 2 Chronicles 34. This is part of Armas general strategy to relate life experience and to highlight marginalised women in scripture. Huldah's cameo is indeed relatively brief, but she speaks a profound and courageous word of truth, and judgment, to the nation. Then we go back to Armas' life experience.
When I began telling the truth about my experiences with racism and sexism in the church, I was quickly labeled “divisive.” However, I always wonder why folks are so quick to think that speaking out against things like sexism, racism, abuse, homophobia, ableism, and such is more divisive than actually being sexist, racist, abusive, homophobic, or ableist. Speaking out against injustice isn’t what divides—instead, acting in ways that are divisive does. (p.70-71)
How often this same story has played out in church spaces? How many times? We have indeed seen the word "divisive" weaponised to shut down truth-telling. Armas continues:
Whenever I hear the word divisive used to keep others silent from speaking up against injustice, I’m reminded of God’s words spoken through the prophet Jeremiah: “They dress the wound of my people as though it were not serious. ‘Peace, peace,’ they say, when there is no peace” (Jer. 6:14 NIV). p.71
Armas then goes on to examine the Hannah narrative, which I think is handled well. She does say that Hannah is "othered" by Peninnah, her husband, and Eli, which I think is not really an accurate use of "othering". They don't treat her as a member of a social outgroup and then homogenise her identity based on that, which is what othering is usually (and arguably 'properly') taken to mean. They do all treat her badly though.
Foray three:
In chapter eight the title is "Protesta and Persistence", and we begin with BLM, George Floyd, and the response of mothers who have lost their children to (political) violence. This segues into another biblical story, even less well known. It's Rizpah.
The fact that Rizpah’s story is generally unknown can be discouraging, but it isn’t surprising. It’s common for the dominant culture to overlook bodies on the margins. p.118
I think this is a little unfair. The Bible itself treats Rizpah's story as marginal. I find Armas' reading of "things that are marginal are important, and they have always been marginalised and that is a culpable action" to lack complexity. Why is Rizpah's story marginal? Yes, we should pay attention to it, but we should not centre it in a way that the Biblical text doesn't.
Rizpah's story is worth attention though! She first appears in 3:6-11 where as a concubine of Saul she is subject to sexual violence and sexualised political violence when Abner is accused of sleeping with her. Given that Rizpah has no capacity for consent, this is rape (and here I agree with Wilda Gafney). When Rizpah reappears in 2 Sam 21:1-14, she takes on a different role, she is the protagonista (as Armas puts it. She loves, and rightfully, sprinkles her prose with Spanish phrases). David sacrifices Rizpah's two sons for political/religious purposes to the Gibeonites' lynching. Rizpah responds by spending six months in ceaseless watch over their unburied bodies, an act of public grief but also political protest. Armas then moves to the story of Las Madres de la Plaza de Mayo in Argentina, in what I would argue is a very right connection of biblical text and contemporary application.
All of this is to say that engaging with the broad swathes of minority and minoritised theologians is worth my time and yours. Engaging in good faith, and learning to hear the questions, sit with the difficulties, wrestle with the texts, understand alternate frameworks. None of that means coming to the same answers, and often I read something and think, "No, I don't agree that that's the answer, that that's the right take here". But the willingness to have the theological conversation is key.