Abstract
The significance of the indivisibility of the United Nations Sustainable Development Goals (UNSDG) for biblical ecological hermeneutics and sustainable living has a lot of potential but biblical scholars and theologians have yet to fully explore these possibilities (Nilsen, 2021). This dialogue is beneficial in providing theological grounding to the UNSDGs and in discerning how sustainability concerns are manifested uniquely in the biblical texts. In exploring these possibilities, I will employ the principles of ecological hermeneutics outlined in the Earth Bible Project as I focus on the character of Miriam in the Torah in relation with various bodies of water in Exod 2:1-10; 15:20-27; and Num 20:1-13. I will first present some observations using a hermeneutic of suspicion about the character of Miriam from related texts, genres, and disciplines. Then, I will identify and highlight Miriam’s dynamic relations with the divine, with her siblings and the peoples, and with the water elements as beyond-human creation connected with her in these texts. Finally, I will retrieve some alternative images of Miriam and her relationship with water and show how she can accompany contemporary women’s struggles concerning water during and in the aftermath of the COVID-19 pandemic and in building back better by realizing the 2030 UNSDGs.
Keywords
While extreme weather disturbances resulting from the climate emergency devastate the most vulnerable countries, the COVID-19 pandemic health protocols even more complicated the rescue and rehabilitation efforts (Craft; “Philippines”). A vital component of these challenges is either too much or too little water, like flooding and droughts (Armitage & Nellums, 2020). Water, sanitation, and hygiene (or WASH) are key to build back a better post-COVID-19 world and a more sustainable planet where no one is left behind (Water). Pope Francis, the United Nations, as well as the civil and academic society all urge the global community to do all and act together to mitigate the devastations that the climate crisis and COVID-19 bring upon people and planetary health (Guterres, 2020b; O’Connel; Rick; Sivakumar; Tucker & Grim). Responding to these calls, I highlight in this study the new insights that contemporary biblical ecological hermeneutics can contribute.
Although creation-centered reading has always been employed in biblical interpretation, a more systematic way of contemporary ecological biblical interpretation in response to the climate crisis became more explicit at the dawn of the third millennium through the Earth Bible Project (EBP) (N. Habel, 2008; N. C. Habel, 2000). With colleagues from natural and social sciences, the EBP formulated six ecojustice principles: intrinsic worth, interconnectedness, raise voice in celebration and against injustice, purpose in cosmic design, mutual custodianship to sustain a balanced and diverse Earth community, and active resistance in the struggle for justice (N. Habel, 2008, 2). These principles and the EBP’s hermeneutical lens have been subjected to both appreciation and critique (Conradie; Horrell et al.).
From these scholarly debates, additional aspects of biblical ecological hermeneutics have been refined. One example is the ecological triangle which examines the relationship between (1) the divine and the humans, (2) the divine and the non-humans or beyond-humans, and (3) the humans and the beyond-humans in the biblical text (Marlow). The ecological triangle has also been modified to discern the inner- and inter-relations between and among the three characters in the biblical texts (Ibita, 2015). This methodology highlights the role of the beyond-human creatures in the texts in relation to their historical and literary contexts. A postcolonial/anti-empire lens has also been incorporated into ecological hermeneutics (thus, ecolonial) to consider how colonization influenced the interpretation of biblical texts (Nilsen & Solevåg). This methodology is mindful of global justice and peace, intercultural, and interreligious aspects of the quest for integrity of creation. These concerns are echoed, for example, in the principles of the Earth Charter such as respect and care for the community of life, ecological integrity, social-economic justice, and democracy, non-violence and peace (Nilsen & Solevåg: 673–674). More recently, the significance of the indivisibility of the 2030 United Nations Sustainable Development Goals (UNSDG) for biblical ecological hermeneutics and sustainable living has been proposed as something that exegetes-theologians can explore (Nilsen, 2020). Formulated by the United Nations General Assembly in 2015 to build peace and prosperity for people and the planet, members are tasked to work for and attain sustainability by 2030 through these goals: (1) no poverty; (2) zero hunger; (3) good health and well-being; (4) quality education; (5) gender equality; (6) clean water and sanitation; (7) affordable and clean energy; (8) decent work and economic growth; (9) industry, innovation and infrastructure; (10) reduced inequalities; (11) sustainable cities and communities; (12) responsible consumption and production; (13) climate action; (14) life below water; (15) life on land; (16) peace, justice, and strong institutions; and (17) partnerships for the goals.
Heeding the challenge of reading the biblical texts from an ecolonial lens and in dialogue with the UNSDG is beneficial for both domains. The dialogue will highlight the various UNSDGs reflected on the biblical texts especially on the interaction between the divine, the beyond-human, and human creation and raise the necessity of doing contemporary ecological interpretation from different biblical-theological lenses. Additionally, an ecolonial-sustainability reading of biblical texts will provide theological groundings for the UNSDG to encourage and empower people of faith to concretize the UNSDGs by 2030 in building a more sustainable planet and more inclusive post-COVID-19 pandemic world.
In this contribution, I will employ the principles of ecological hermeneutics as outlined in the Earth Bible Project – suspicion, identification and retrieval - in synchronically reading the texts related to Miriam in the Torah (Exod 2:1–10; 15:20–21; and Num 20:1–13). Using a hermeneutic of suspicion about the character of Miriam in these texts, I will first briefly present some observations made by feminist biblical scholars. Guided by the insights from modified ecological triangle, I will then identify and highlight Miriam’s relations with the divine, her siblings and the Israelites, and the various forms of water in these texts. Finally, I will retrieve some alternative images of Miriam and her relationship with water and integrate them with contemporary women’s struggles, the Earth Charter, and the UNSDGs. This part explores how the biblical Miriam can be a contemporary companion through the lingering effects of the COVID-19 pandemic and during the intermediate and post-pandemic rebuilding by realizing the 2030 UNSDGs.
Suspicion: Miriam from Various Lenses
The EBP’s employment of the hermeneutics of suspicion uncovers our anthropocentric reading of biblical texts where humans are supposed to be hierarchically superior to the rest of creation and that, most often than not, humans treat the beyond-human creatures as objects. Lynn White charges that this anthropocentrism in the Judeo-Christian tradition bears a huge burden of guilt in the ecological crisis, challenging us to either find a new religion or rethink the old one (White: 1206). In their more systematic ecological reading, the EBP highlights the principle of intrinsic worth, that beyond-human creation are not just a “background for God’s relationship with humanity” (N. Habel, 2008: 4). In an ecological triangle reading, the dynamics between and among the divine, the humans, and the beyond-human creatures in the story of salvation are highlighted. Here, I will focus on Miriam and her relationship with the divine, the humans, and the beyond-humans in this core story of liberation and the flourishing of all. We first gather what Miriam’s interpreters say about her.
While a feminist reading is generally conducted “exegetically” using contextual and grammatical analysis, it has also been earlier accused of reading texts “exaggeratedly”, i.e., beyond its context and grammar to fit the characters into feminist ideologies, and “eisegetically” when something is understood from the pericope that is neither contextually nor grammatically present in the text so that it conforms to feminist ideologies, especially for irredeemably ‘androcentric’ texts (Ashmon: 1–2). This argumentation contrasts (if not runs parallel to) the aims of suspicion, identification, and retrieval from the viewpoint of narrative gaps and normative texts. It raises questions about who decides which linguistic texts are considered “normative,” what types of texts exist, and what constitutes “normativity.” Furthermore, it examines who benefits from these normative texts and readings, and who is marginalized or excluded by them. Nowadays, feminist biblical interpretation is more central, gaining traction, and becoming normative as scholars build from the alternative insights discovered through time (Bach: 423).
Even with these accusations and with several feminist readings of the character of Miriam in the Bible, Elaine James complains that Miriam has not yet received a great deal of recognition in the history of interpretation (James: 67). While Miriam is usually associated with her prophetic leadership alongside Moses and Aaron in Exodus, she is only sometimes remembered in passing (such as in Mic 6:4) or linked with the skin disease she suffered when she and Aaron questioned Moses’ authority (Deut 24:9; Num 12) (James: 67). Another look at Miriam from other related texts, genres, and disciplines is, therefore, a must. For example, a longer text from Qumran is attributed to Miriam, 4QRPc6, which may suggest that “there once existed a body of songs and psalms ascribed to women that has not survived” (Feldman; James: 67). The Biblical Antiquities 20:8 (1917) says, “And these are the three things which God gave his people for the sake of three persons: that is, the well of the water of Mara for Maria’s [Miriam’s] sake, and the pillar of cloud for Aaron’s sake, and the manna for the sake of Moses. And when these three came to an end, those three gifts were taken away from them”. The Legends of the Jews mentions that ‘Miriam’s Well’ miraculously accompanied the people for their forty years wandering by virtue of her prophetic eminence (Ginzberg).
In medieval Judaism, Miriam’s liturgical leadership was emphasized as seen in folio 15 of the Golden Haggadah from Catalonia which depicts Miriam holding a timbrel with young women dancing and playing musical instruments, the Bulgarian Psalter’s Miriam Tanz in 1360 which shows her hip in corporeal worship, and in the commentary to Exod 15:20 which presents her singing the Song of the Sea three times a day (James: 67–68). “This tradition highlights the importance of physically enacted worship practices and may point to historical women’s worship traditions that have been overlooked or forgotten” (James: 68). Age, race/ethnicity, clothing, and emotions also feature in modern visual representations of Miriam (Burko, 2014). As insights from anthropology, archaeology, ethnomusicology, and midrashim have also enriched the appreciation of Miriam’s Song (Bach: 421, 423), we cannot hide Miriam in the shadows anymore (Trible). In various texts (linguistic, visual, musical, bodily-ritual, etc.), places, and time, Miriam is there.
Now that this short section has illustrated how Miriam is characterized from interdisciplinary approaches, we now focus on her unique relationships with the divine and the bodies of water she and the Israelites encountered.
Identification: The LORD, the Waters, and Miriam
For the EBP team, the task of identification high-lights our kinship and interconnection with the creation community, “that we are born of Earth, and that we are living expressions of the ecosystem that has emerged on this planet”(N. Habel, 2008: 5). In what follows, I will identify Miriam in relation with the divine, the humans, and beyond-human creation because, in addition to how feminist scholars highlight the characters of the women as liberation partners of God, the beyond-human creations’ roles must also be recognized as part of God’s saving presence. In re-reading the biblical texts, nuances of ecolonial-sustainability found in the
At the Riverbank (Exod. 2:1-10)
2:1 Now a man from the house of Levi went and married a Levite woman. 2 The woman conceived and bore a son; and when she saw that he was a fine baby, she hid him three months. 3 When she could hide him no longer she got a
In this story, Miriam and the river are depicted as interrelating with all the characters and the saving and feminine presence of the Lord among the women and the creation community can be discerned.
Primarily, the text shows the unnamed sister and the river connecting everybody: the baby, the mother, and Pharaoh’s daughter, and her attendants. The sister was at the right place and time. Far enough not to cause early unwanted attention, near enough to immediately intervene to secure the future of the baby in the “box” (tebah). Here she holds together the tension between their mother, who had to leave the box among the reeds in the river, and Pharaoh’s daughter, who entered the water to bathe. The sister anticipates the Lord’s wondrous deeds with vigilant alertness (Boesak: 2/16). She was undaunted by royalty as she openly spoke to Pharaoh’s daughter. “Her actions are bold and loyal,” (James: 67) with a firm resolve to associate herself with the child whatever happens (Boesak: 3/15). She foresees the need for a wetnurse and in one clever act, solves the problem for the princess while making sure that their mother keeps caring for the baby (Yee: 180–189). Though unnamed, she is a girl of courage and initiative (Irvin, 2002: 81), protection, and resistance (Yee: 187). She has “intellectual dexterity, moral courage and extraordinary commitment” to prophetically engage the empire represented by Pharaoh’s daughter (Boesak: 3/15). In Targum Ps Jonathan, this sister is identified with Puvah, the midwife, and is named Miriam while Shifra is also known as Jokeved (Etheridge).
Consequently, Miriam’s role facilitates the feminine power of I am who am (Lederman-Daniely: 22), a vital force against the males who opted for killing and coopted the river to be an instrument of death. Boesak observes the absence of a male image in this story apart from the baby while the mother acted in an “extraordinarily risky, and courageous, initiative” and in “faith anchored in trust, not in sight” (Boesak: 2/15). As men are deprived of power by being excluded in the scene, the women multiplied their activism of life-giving disobedience against obedience to the death-dealing decrees. A complementary life-giving partnership was formed between the Pharaoh’s daughter and her female servants with the daughters of Israel (Lederman-Daniely: 12). This public female opposition against Pharaoh becomes a revolutionary political act that preserves life as opposed to the destructive male principle. The saving of the oppressed transforms into an event of national significance, launching the revolution of freedom. God, though “not directly spoken of, is nonetheless wondrously present” (Boesak: 2/15). The ‘son’ – Moses – receives and embodies the whole narrative and process of “birth, concealment, exposure, rescue, nurture, and adoption” (Ngwa: 187) brought about by the complementing words and actions of the women (the unnamed sister/Miriam, his mother, the daughter of the pharaoh, her attendants) and the beyond-human creation (the box made of papyrus with bitumen and pitch, the reeds, the water of the river). They served as “porous frontiers” of “nation, ethnicity and culture,”(Yee: 187) and elemental characteristics. The height and flow of the river were just right to lead the baby in the box from one mother to the next, from the oppressed slaves to the daughter of Pharaoh herself who went against the command of her father that all his people kill the baby boys (Gnuse: 196), from danger to salvation, from being nameless to being Moses, the one drawn from the water or, more literally, “the one who draws out”, his destiny (Yee: 188). This narrative showcases the interconnection of the feminine power of I AM, the women, and the creation community partnering in purpose, mutual custodianship, and resistance against injustice and violence of the unnamed pharaoh, the tyrant of every age and place (Gnuse: 193).
At the Seashore (Exod. 15:20-27)
20
Debates about the Song of the Sea abound (Amzallag & Avriel, 2012). For some, the shorter version is the original; for others, the longer version is an embellishment (Boesak: 3/15) which changes the Exodus from God’s glorious intervention to a song of war (Boesak: 4/15). By naming Moses and Miriam, the narrator underlines their musical and spiritual leadership (Tzoref: 9). Hymn and history unite (Klein). This subsection underlines Miriam’s corporeal expression of liberation and revelation, her interrelation with creation community in resisting the empire, and her interconnection with her people while also foreshadowing Israel’s inner battle as newly freed people symbolized by the precariousness of water source in the wilderness.
First, the text shows how the prophetess Miriam’s singing was intensified by the rhythm of the tambourine and dancing (Phillips: 36). More than revelry, the singing and dancing embody the hallowing of creating life and preserving life, a ceremony which vitally welcomes the divine presence (Lederman-Daniely: 22). As it is in other mythic and ritual traditions, Miriam can be regarded as the archetype of a ‘skeleton woman’ whose spiritual power arises after death and destruction. The ‘skeleton woman’ is one who gathers skeleton and bones, and, in hope, sings to them to restore and allow rebirth, such as the Egyptian goddess Isis and the prophet Ezekiel (Lederman-Daniely: 23). In her singing, Miriam gathers the fractured bones of the enslaved Israelite, heals their pain and despair, proclaims revival and new cosmic order, and invites them to a new consciousness as a sovereign people (Lederman-Daniely: 15). In her Song, humans and beyond-human creation embrace the LORD who liberates; worship becomes a participation in revelation (Walsh: 121).
Second, in Miriam’s Song, “the vast military power of the empire is not able to withstand the power of God exercised on behalf of God’s powerless people” (Boesak: 5/16). Named, given voice, and allowed to embody her praise, Miriam’s prophetic resistance to empire’s violent power shows how the LORD is “the total opposite of the gods of the empire” (Boesak: 5/15). The wonders the LORD made in Egypt were his “no” to inequality and irresponsible consumption and production. They were his “yes” to dignified work and well-being, respect for life on land and the waters for a more sustainable society and creation community. With Miriam’s words/song and actions/dance, she reconnects the divine (the LORD), the humans (freed people and oppressors), and beyond-human creation (the musical instrument, the horses as a symbol of power; and the beyond-human cooperator of salvation, the Sea). As God’s purposive liberation is symbolized by too much water – in amount and strength - the Song loudly celebrates, contrasts, and protests against the powerful (Boesak: 6/15).
Lastly, the third person, masculine plural lahem in Exodus 15:21 indicates how Miriam as a prophet of God for the people embodies inclusive leadership in the glorification and gratitude for God’s saving actions, how she owns their agency in their deliverance just like Ship-rah and Puah (Boesak: 6/15), just like at the bank of the river. “Miriam’s song is a celebration of the collective thanksgiving, praise and worship of the God who is the Savior of all the people” (Boesak: 6/15). “[S]he stands, and brings the people with her, directly before the One who hears, knows, sees and rescues,”(Boesak: 6/15). As it was at the bank of the Nile, the beyond-human creation exercised mutual custodianship and resistance against injustice. This partnership of the creatures for saving life and liberation is the tradition they represent and preserve. The prophet Miriam sees as the LORD sees – “through the eyes of the oppressed, the despised, the outcasts, the ravaged, the powerless and those who suffer” (Boesak: 14/15). Exodus 14–15 in 4Q365 narrates how the mighty waters of the Sea acted as a wall, an instrument of God’s salvation and power for the fleeing slaves. The glorious triumph of the LORD as the Egyptian drivers and horses were hurled into the Sea magnifies and intensifies the reversal of the killing of the helpless Hebrew boys thrown into the Nile. Pharaoh’s decree and forces were nothing compared to the might of the Sea, the beyond-human element which the ancient world associated with chaos (Gnuse: 200), now purposively directed by the LORD to bring order to the life of the newly-freed slaves.
However, three days after Moses’ and Miriam’s Song of the Sea voiced out thanksgiving and praise, the people did not find water in the wilderness of Shur. When they reached Marah, they complained about its bitter water. As Moses cried out to the LORD again, the LORD showed (yrh) him an ‘ētz (wood, tree, 15:25), which made the water sweet, saving the Israelites from thirst. This use of the hiphil yrh also hints at the LORD’s “instructing” his people to listen to his voice, to do what is right, to heed his commandments, and keep all his statutes so they will not suffer the diseases brought upon the Egyptians for the LORD is their healer. This anti-empire exhortation was needed to transform the Is-raelites from slaves to free peoples, symbolized by the Elim oasis of twelve springs of water and seventy palm trees. The divine liberator is manifested in the mountains, wilderness, water, and freed slaves (Gnuse: 196).
In the Wilderness (Num 20:1–13)
In this story, we glimpse how Israel revered Miriam’s leadership and the I am she encountered with the bodies of water and represented to the people, how her death magnifies Israel’s continuous struggle of being free people, and maybe even how the rock grieved over her, her brothers, and Israel.
First, this narrative connects the death of Miriam and the absence of water. The references to ‘the Israelites’, ‘the whole congregation’, and ‘the people’ emphasize their steadfast presence and devotion to Miriam. It recalls Num 12:15 when she was punished with leprosy for questioning Moses’ leadership and the people did not set out until she was brought back in. One may ask if the LORD who ‘speaks only through Moses” in Numbers 12 is the same deity whom Miriam came to know at the riverbank or the seashore. This argument among the siblings asks a fundamental question: which God are we talking about and calling upon here? This query is important because later on, “[t]hough Miriam is dead and gone, her subversive memory, her challenge to leadership and her dangerous ideal of prophetic leadership still linger” (Boesak: 12/15). The LORD we find in Exodus is fundamentally different from and in opposition to the gods of the empire who depend on subjugation and indignity, the suppression of all dissent, violence, and the threat of destruction. Miriam’s God is the LORD of life-giving hope, whose acts of liberation are acts of radical love, inclusivity, freedom and resistance. This characterization of the LORD is the tradition Miriam witnessed on the riverbank, at the seashore, and in the wilderness. It is the tradition of worshipping the LORD of the poor and oppressed, of justice and peace (Boesak: 14/15), of well-being for humans and beyond-human creatures.
Second, one may also wonder how Miriam’s death is only told in seven words while the absence of water and the people’s complaint are narrated more lengthily. “[A] re the dried-up waters of Meribah the final place of contestation, a silent cry of inexpressible mourning at the passing of this amazing woman, without whose prophetic leadership the people will now have to face the future, and simultaneously a rallying cry for all those who embrace the prophetic tradition of Miriam?” (Boesak: 12/15) The complaint about the lack of water is more comprehensive here than in Marah (Exod 15:22–25). The people wished death upon themselves to stress their grievances about the lack of food and water. While they looked back on what they missed in Egypt, they missed out on their redemption from slavery. They have forgotten what happened and culminated at the Sea. Here they represent people of all ages and places who “seek security over freedom”(Gnuse: 201).
Finally, while the readers are not told how Moses, Aaron, and the people grieved for Miriam, this story appears to show how the beyond-human rock embodies the grief of losing Miriam, the people, and Miriam’s brothers. As Moses and Aaron brought the people’s complaint to the deity, the LORD assured them that with his staff, Moses can dbr (speak, tell, or command) the rock to bring forth water for the people and the animals. Moses, however, castigated the “rebels” (mrh) with harsh words, his actions were self-referential as he “lifted up” (rum) his hand, a metaphor for power, and instead of talking or commanding the rock, he struck, smite (nkh) it twice so water came forth abundantly to quench the people and the livestock of thirst. Could we surmise that the brothers became exasperated with the peoples’ complaint about water while they grieve over their sister resulting in Moses’ disobedience of the LORD’s command on what to say and do? Would these violent words and actions of Moses be considered his great sin that it turns his God against him (Boesak:12/15)? Was Moses not attuned anymore to the LORD, the people, and the beyond-human creatures, unlike when they were in Egypt and at the Sea? Taking up the staff, a beyond-human creature, remembers the events before Pharaoh and the parting of the Sea which focus on the power of the LORD, not of Moses (Boesak: 13/15). Moses’ and Aaron’s sin is much more than “emotional transference;” it was building up from the rebellion of Numbers 11 (Boesak: 13/15). Targum Ps Jonathan narrates that the first time Moses struck the rock, drops of blood appeared before the water flowed from it (Boesak: 13/15). Moses momentarily forgot the saving power of the LORD through the waters of the river, the Sea, the Elim oases - with lifetime consequences. The drops of blood from the rock before the water came out could be its resistance against this violence of Moses, its grief over Miriam, the complaining Israelites, the brothers, or all the above.
As the important dynamics between and among Miriam, her brothers and the people, the bodies of water, and the divine have been identified, how do we reclaim Miriam’s memory?
Retrieval: Miriam and Us
Proceeding from suspicion and identification, retrieval means openness to how the text may reveal several surprises about the beyond-human characters in the narrative. The Earth or members of the Earth community’s key roles must be acknowledged as their own voice or action, not just symbolic, poetic or anthropomorphic usages (Habel, 2008: 5). Paying attention to their ‘voices’, both implicit or explicit, is something “that need not correspond to the languages of words we commonly associate with human voices” and which may need “reconstruction [which] is …not the original text, but it is a reading valid as the numerous readings of scholars over the centuries. In such a narrative, Earth also becomes an interpreter” (Habel, 2008: 5). In Exodus, while “the characters are perpetually at risk of perishing because of either too much or too little water” (Wouk: 93), Miriam is closely linked with waters that save. Below are five practices to retrieve the legacy of Miriam’s relations with the people, the waters and with the LORD.
Miriam’s Well
An ancient custom during the Sabbath is to draw or drink water from a well or natural spring, for as the sages said, “anyone who encounters it and drinks of its waters will be immediately healed from all his afflictions. Therefore, they are accustomed to draw water every Saturday night, since perhaps they will chance upon the well of Miriam,” (Shurpin). It is said that God gave the Israelites Miriam’s Well which provided literal and pure, refreshing water during the desert wanderings because of Miriam’s merit (Wouk: 93). Tradition says that the well is from the same rock that brought forth water through Moses’s action when the people complained after their Exodus from Egypt and after Miriam’s death (van den Bosch). Its mythological forebears relates with the male-female pairing of deities for fertility in the ancient Near East, which slipped into the Jewish tradition as ‘Source and Stone’, exemplified in Exod 17, Num 21 and in Deut 32 (van den Bosch: 213–216). For Lederman-Daniely, this symbolism of Miriam’s well is subversive as “[T]he image of the well as a uterus signifies in ancient cultures a high spiritual capacity that generates transformative holy formation” (Lederman-Daniely: 11).
In other traditions, this ready water source springs from Miriam’s vigil by the Nile and her exuberant praise after the splitting of the Sea (Shurpin). Miriam’s Well is a rock shaped like a sieve, which would roll with the Israelites as their travel and would dig deep into the sand when they stop. The leaders either command the well to rise up or it springs up in their new location (Num 21:16–18).
While the Talmud and Midrash describe that Miriam’s well symbolizes spiritual and moral strength, or the “uncompromising reliance on God even in the face of seeming hopelessness”, a natural explanation for this well could be “dowsing”. It is the capacity to divine or locate water, or by closely observing plants and geological phenomena in the desert (Wouk: 93). Dowsers are identified then and now as “knowers” and “protectors” of water, especially from a gender, race, postcolonial/anti-empire and other lenses (Domínguez-Guzmán et al.: 7).
Miriam’s Seder Cup
Well connected with Miriam’s Well is Miriam’s Seder Cup:
Among Jewish feminists, Miriam’s Well has become a symbol of female fortitude and leadership. To ritualize her role, sometimes a second cup, called Miriam’s cup, is added to the Passover dinner table, filled with water to symbolize the miracle of Miriam’s well. Such practice honor the role of Miriam in the exodus, her importance as Moses’ sister and as a prophet in her own right, and highlights the past and present contribution of women to Judeo-Christian tradition. (James: 69)
Water also symbolizes both those that sustain women’s journeys and the other bodily fluids associated with women, like blood, tears, milk, and others (Wouk: 90). In this retrieval, the interrelations among the actors of the ecological triangle – the LORD, the waters and Miriam – manifest that salvation is both about human freedom and about the harmony and mutuality between and among the community of life, and even within the female body as well.
Mourning Miriam through Midrashim
In seven words, we read Miriam’s obituary. Was there not a mourning period for her? Various rituals celebrate Miriam’s life and death. Freed mourned for Miriam, the woman, prophetess, leader, midwife, healer, dancer, and singer by telling a contemporary Midrash (Freed: 91). On the seventh night of shiva, the third stage of Jewish mourning and where people discuss their loss, Freed notes the healing that teardrops give in holy grieving – from loss to love, from anger to compassion, from fear to courage, from sorrow to hope (Freed: 92).
For Raphael, modern midrashim feature Miriam in songs, dances, gifts, books, and healing services (Raphael: 1/13). He acknowledges Miriam’s influences in midrashic songs and dances that praise women’s celebration of salvation amidst daily tasks and the inclusive songs and Shechinah dance that includes children and men, with arms stretched to the Sea (Raphael: 8–9, 10–11). Songs of Miriam are also included in the Sabbath, a painted tambourine showing images of Miriam leading women in euphoric dance has become a common contemporary ritual gift during Bat Mitzvah, and her image has begun to appear on painted talitot and in children’s books (Raphael: 1/13). Miriam’s Well Healing Services are frequently sponsored by mainstream Jewish Federations or Conservative synagogues (Raphael: 1/13).
Hamsa Hand
One other symbol associated with Miriam and other prominent women in various faith traditions is the Hamsa Hand (Sayed: 25). It is generally regarded in various religions as an apotropaic device to symbolize protection against the evil eye, or the cultural belief that certain individuals can inflict harm to others, whether unintentional or maliciously, and cause illness, misfortune, death, or property damage by looking at or praising someone (DeMello: 86–87, 89). It is usually carved in silver, a metal element for purity (Sayed: 24). Its adoption as the Hand of Maryam can be traced to ancient Sephardic Jewish community in the Iberian Peninsula (Sayed: 23). The Hamsa Hand is significant in Jewish traditions as it means hamesh (five in Hebrew) which is related with the Five Books of Moses, the fifth letter of the Hebrew alphabet, heh, which connotes one of the divine’s holy names, and that one must remember to use the five senses in praising God (Sayed: 24). Associated also as the Hand-of-Mary, the mother of Jesus, it offers protection against the evil eye and is deemed to be helpful in fertility, lactation and health (Sayed: 24). In India, the fingers represents various elements of nature and chakra energy, with the little finger representing the water element (Sayed: 24). Finally, the Hamsa is also deemed as the sacred symbol of God’s hand on earth across the Middle East (Sayed: 25). In the Hamsa hand, the ecological triangle is represented and harmonized, Miriam is remembered, and the vital water element is acknowledged.
Memorializing Miriam, Living Sustainably
Miriam’s connection with the protection of life, dignity and freedom, and the waters makes her a suitable companion today as we work towards a more inclusive and sustainable post-COVID-19 pandemic world. As previously mentioned, the health management of COVID-19 is highly dependent on enough water – too little or too much means trouble in medicine, food and potable water security, and even in rescue and recovery in areas ravaged by drought and flood (Mishra et al.; Srivastava et al.). A gendered analysis of the COVID-19 pandemic reveals that as demand for water collection in developing countries almost tripled, women were more heavily burdened, that health and quarantine facilities lacked water and sanitation, and that girls were also restricted from these basic services because of school closures (Mazouzi et al.), For this reason and more, the United Nations challenges that global recovery will be better when girls and women’s concerns are put at the center of working for a more inclusive and sustainable future (Guterres, 2020a).
One response to this challenge is our modern Miriam-like story on the experience of the Alliance of Peoples’ Organization along the Manggahan Floodway (APOAMF), our partner in the international, transdisciplinary and multisectoral community research project Urban Poor Women and Children with Academics for Reaching and Delivering on UNSDGs in the Philippines (UPWARD-UP, VLIR-UOS PH2020SIN294A101; Ethics Clearance Protocol ID: AdMUREC_19_139CA2). Before APOAMF became organized, they lived in an urban poor community along the banks of the Manggahan Floodway. When typhoon Ketsana/Ondoy hit in 2009, it left them with utter destruction, loss of life and livelihood, and the threat of relocation. With assistance from non-governmental organizations, especially the Community Organizers Multiversity, they were able to organize themselves. They drafted a Peoples’ Plan where they forged their collective vision for dignified living and courageously talked to, haggled with, and demanded from national and city governments to find an in-city relocation for them and build a more climate-resistant housing for the community (Chorover & Arriens). Their victory became their core narrative (Mawis), told purposively in our kwentuhan (story-telling) sessions which we had to shift from face-to-face to online sessions because of the COVID-19 emergency. Instead of suspending the project because of the pandemic, the same reasons impelled us to even more push for realizing the UNSDGs, especially in the urban poor community. Every kwentuhan promoted a multi-dimensional, multidisciplinary and multi-modal approach in articulating their prioritized SDGs such as (1) No Poverty, (3) Good Health and Well-Being in relation to (6) Water and Sanitation, (4) Quality Education, and (16) Justice, Peace and Strong Institutions–all done from the viewpoint of (5) gender equality. Our intra-disciplinary and multisectoral approach included deepening the sociology-anthropology basis of the UNSDGs. We also urged APOAMF to tell their stories of struggles and triumphs by upskilling them with citizen journalism, equipping them with legal safety and recourse in their exercise of free speech and information, and helping them build the community website. Finally, we journeyed together through their ups-and-downs during the pandemic by tapping theology-spirituality as additional resource in trying times, especially by introducing them to biblical women who have exemplified divine presence and liberation like Miriam. This memorialization of Miriam and the exodus story allows the APOAMF women to be accompanied by her presence as they tell and retell within and outside of their community their quest and actions for wellbeing and sustainability.
Conclusion
This contribution heeds the challenge of dialoguing ecological, postcolonial/anti-empire, and sustainability hermeneutics using the EBP’s hermeneutics of suspicion, identification and retrieval. In suspicion, we briefly scrutinized how Miriam has been portrayed by her interpreters from various disciplines. We also identified Miriam’s unique relationship with the LORD who has shown her and Israel the feminine power of I am who am as manifested in the life-saving role of the Nile, the mighty power of the Sea cooperating with the LORD to liberate Israel from those who enslaved and pursued them, and the provision of drinking water in the wilderness. In retrieval, we were made aware of Jewish traditions commemorating this relationship of Miriam with the LORD, her people, and water as a beyond-human cooperator in sustaining Israel’s freedom and leading them to the promised land. We learned more about Miriam’s well and Miriam’s Seder cup. We mourned her through midrashim. We symbolized resisting evil, praising God, and recognizing natural elements by using the Hamsa Hand. We memorialized Miriam by supporting women’s quest for water as part of a more inclusive and sustainable living and rebuilding after the devastations of the COVID-19 pandemic and the ecological emergency through the UNSDG 2030. Therefore, this use of ecolonial-sustainability lenses in reading the dynamic relations between and among the LORD, the waters, and Miriam, her brothers and Israel vitally articulate, remember, and embody the Torah for a dignified creation community life. Then and now, to live the liberation of Exodus is to live sustainably.