Intimacy as Resistance

Heather offered this reflection at a prayer vigil last month hosted by Kol Tzedek Synagogue and the New Sanctuary Movement of Philadelphia. Several vigils were held throughout Philadelphia in solidarity with communities of color and in response to the recent resurgence of white supremacist rhetoric and violence, most notably in Charlottesville, VA.

It happens that this week in the lectionary, those readings designated by the Church for congregations to reflect on, is a great story of creative resistance to the powers of racism and the violence of Empire. It is the story of Shiphrah and Puah in the book of Exodus. Shiphrah and Puah serve as midwives to the Hebrew community living under the boot of the Egyptian empire. Those of you who have heard this story may remember that Pharaoh is growing concerned about the growing population of Hebrew people who are enslaved in Egypt. Pharaoh fears that as their numbers grow they are likely to revolt and overthrow the Empire. So he orders the midwives to kill any Hebrew baby boys at the time of birth, but to let the girls live. Shiphrah and Puah don’t have much to say in response, but they defy Pharaoh’s order and let the Hebrew boys live. When Pharaoh hears of this, he calls them back for questioning. The midwives explain that the Hebrew women are very vigorous and give birth before a midwife can arrive. Pharaoh seems to accept this explanation, perhaps because it plays into his racist notions about the Hebrew people, and does not punish the midwives.

So I have often heard Shiphrah and Puah praised for their boldness and clever subterfuge to protect the lives of the Hebrew community. It is an inspiring and triumphant story. But I’m thinking today about why. In the midst of a violent and oppressive regime, why would they risk their lives on behalf a people considered foreign and inferior? I was listening recently to an interview with theologian and activist, Ruby Sales. She was talking about the division within and among communities of color, and she said that one of the targets of Empire is and has always been intimacy - to eliminate our ability to know each other. The black community has been under this assault since the days of enslavement in America when children were taken from their parents to be sold to another owner. Siblings were split up. Partners and spouses were separated on a regular basis. It was the business of slavery, but it was also an intentional tactic to destroy community. We see this now in the immigrant community as families and communities are broken up by detention and deportation. This is not a new practice, and it is not by accident. It is part of the strategy of Empire, and it as old as the story of Shiphrah and Puah.

So what fuels these midwives in their subversion of this violence and annihilation of community? What might fuel our own resistance to the forces of white supremacy that are showing their ugly heads in our own communities and in the highest seat of power in our country? Taking a cue from Ruby Sales, I want to suggest that the starting place is intimacy.

Whether intentionally or by accident, Shiphrah and Puah found themselves with the Hebrew women in some of the most vulnerable and intimate moments of their lives – the labor and birth of their children. Perhaps they were already sympathetic, but if not, these encounters must have struck them on a deeply human level. Being present to people in their vulnerability and hearing their experiences of what it is to live under oppression and the threat of violence on a daily basis can be transformative.

This story is instructive for me as a person of faith, and particularly as a white person in these times. What does it mean for me to resist white supremacy? I think it has to start with relationships. Especially for those of us classified as white and as American citizens, it has to start with listening deeply to the stories and experiences of people of color and immigrants. We need to hear how brown and black people are regularly stopped by police, how they often have their car towed when they are stopped for a traffic violation because they don’t have a license. They can’t afford the hundreds of dollars it takes to get their car back, and meanwhile how do they get to their job and take their kids to school? We need to know the stories of ICE forcing their way into someone’s home and removing sons, daughters, mothers, and fathers without warning and deporting them to a country where they no longer have family or a support system. We need to hear the stories of poverty and violence so devastating that a person would leave their home and family behind to seek the only possibility of survival in a foreign place. We have to listen and to amplify these stories as truth when other white folks and people in the halls of power seek to silence them or call them anecdotal. I am especially grateful to New Sanctuary Movement for giving me the opportunity to seek intimacy, to build relationships with the immigrant community. And I am humbled by those immigrant sisters and brothers who are willing to share their stories of pain, fear, hopes and dreams with me. I pray that all of us gathered here may continue to seek ways to repair that intimacy that Empire seeks to destroy, that we will be emboldened by our intimacy to resist the powers of white supremacy that try to deceive us into believing that we don’t belong to one another.