Guatemala and Gaza, Enfleshed Divinity in Women’s Ethics of Care

This paper is based on a book chapter in the publication process. I develop my discussion following a solidarity delegation I participated in 2024, which focused on the aftermath of genocides and state-terror in Guatemala. 

In this paper, I first briefly mention the material interconnectedness of Guatemala and Gaza’s genocides. Second, I discuss the invisible and sexualized experiences of women by engaging with feminist scholars, prominently with Nadera Shalhoub-Kevorkian's work, and experiences of women on the ground in both contexts. Lastly, I attempt to answer the question “Wenak ya Allah?” through centering the practices and ethics of care embodied by Guatemalan and Gazan women. 

The Gazan genocide has compounded what Cedar Duaybis has called “the theological Nakba" (Duaybis, 2013, p.8). The Nakba shook many people’s faith, particularly through the weaponization of the Old Testament to legitimize occupation, displacement, and today, genocide (Ateek, 2017). Many Christians today have asked, “Where is God amidst genocide?” Some theologians tried to answer this question. Prominently, Munther Isaac, in a pastoral move, answered “God is under the rubble” (Isaac, 2023). But a question in return has been “Is God dead?” Raheb argued that when Palestinians ask, “Where is God?”, “they neither question the existence of God nor his care, but they do wonder why God is not moving.” (Raheb, 2017, p.113) Nevertheless, witnessing the extent of this genocide left many questioning God’s care and presence in Gaza.

To answer these concerns, in his sermon, Isaac preached that “God suffers with the people of this land, sharing the same fate with us” (Isaac, 2023). God's free solidarity with the oppressed is incarnated in Jesus, who lived and died under Roman imperial rule. Thus, God can be found today under the rubble, suffering as he did on Earth. Isaac preached that this is our consolation: God comforts us by freely sharing in our suffering.

In a similar vein, George Khodr explained that, on the cross, Jesus was not just a martyr but the unification of God with the oppressed. Jesus’s humanity was perfected there (Khodr, 1975), where “every bleeding person bleeds with the Christ, as the blood of the Savior and the blood of the tormented are one on earth and in heaven. Every oppressed person is flogged with Christ because oppression is the same in our world" (Khodr, 2003, p.59). The cross presents a paradox: the sovereign God endures execution by the sovereign regime as a consequence of Jesus’ ministry of love and care. Furthermore, the cross suggests a continuation of Jesus’ torture alongside the tortured others. Indeed, “the scene is one and the flagellant is another" (Khodr, 2003, p.59).

Like Raheb, Khodr draws parallels between Jesus’ life and death under Roman imperialism and the suffering of Palestinians under Zionist settler colonialism. Khodr says, “all Palestinians, regardless of their sects, have become Jesus’ little brothers" (Khodr, 2003, p.61). This unification of God with the suffering indicates an adoption, where God identifies with and cares for the oppressed. It represents a cosmic relationship that cannot be severed, regardless of the regime’s brutality in destroying life and social fabric and bombs’ power in dismembering bodies.

While the idea of God unified with the suffering can bring comfort to some, it raises theological and ethical challenges. First, despite Christian teachings on resurrection, the reality of horrific genocide makes it difficult to believe in a form of resurrection that promises material liberation. Second, how can we account for the multiple forms of violence occurring simultaneously? Indeed, we must consider the overarching structures facilitating violence. However, how can we theologically confront sexual violence, gendered violence, and other practices that Palestinian Christians typically deem wrong, when God is in full solidarity with the oppressed? Does God fully embrace these harmful practices when they are carried out by the oppressed within their community? Third, when declaring that God is on the cross or under the rubble, how can we reconcile this with the agency and freedom of those whose lives were taken, despite their own agency? Fourth, how do we reconcile God’s care shown in the gospels, with the genocide of Gazans? This tension challenges divine presence and justice in the face of overwhelming suffering. Lastly, does God care for Palestinians only because they are victims of oppression?

In this paper, I argue that the ethics of care embodied by Palestinian and Guatemalan women offer a venue for theological exploration of contradictions raised by genocide. The testimonies of Guatemalan women’s work in historical remembrance and justice, alongside those of Gazan women, highlight their priority to care for their children and communities, making immense sacrifices to ensure the wellbeing of their kin amidst genocide. Jesus bears a profound resemblance to these women in their practices and ethics of care. Christ’s ministry on earth, reflected in the Gospel accounts, calls for a new ordering of the world where love and care take precedence. Gazan and Guatemalan women share in Christ’s embodiment on earth: stripped of basic necessities, dehumanized, attacked in their most intimate spaces. Yet, act in freedom and continue to reflect divine love toward their kin. Paradoxically, in times of death, women embody the truth of life and love amidst destruction.

While God can be understood to be under the rubble, united with the most oppressed, this might suggest that God has been defeated, given the absence of resurrection in our material world. Yet, the lives of Palestinian and Guatemalan women teach us about the interconnectedness of agency and victimhood. Despite facing violent realities of impoverishment, sexual colonial violence, racialization, and militarized states, women create new spaces that nurture life and safety to the best of their abilities. Divine freedom is embodied by human freedom in extending care. Yet, I assert that liberation is not a predetermined event following suffering. The aftermath of genocide in Guatemala has not brought total liberation or justice, and the genocide in Gaza continues in its aftermath. Highlighting the invisible work of care and leadership embodied by Guatemalan and Gazan women exposes glimpses of the divine in our world.