The book of Genesis ends happily with Joseph, as regent of Egypt, forgiving his brothers who years before had sold him into slavery. But things quickly take a surprising turn within the first few verses of Exodus. In short order we learn that “a new king arose over Egypt, who did not know Joseph” (Ex. 1:8). Forgotten was the memory of how Joseph’s wise plan of storing grain when crops were abundant had provisioned the country during the seven years of famine that followed. Sometimes political memory can be short, especially when it seems advantageous to forget. It was advantageous for the Egyptians to forget the contributions to their economy of the refugees from Canaan.
Another clue that we are in very different territory now is the introduction of two midwives from the “habiru,” that motley crew of Semites who had emigrated to more prosperous Egypt in the time of famine. The “habiru” were nomads in the Middle East, who while not to be completely identified with the eventual Israelites, were probably among their ancestors.1 Shiphrah and Puah, two obscure midwives, are our first indication that this is not history as usually written–top-down, from the vantage point of power. This is a subversive story, where the people who are hardly ever noticed will play a major part.
The Egyptians feel threatened by these relative newcomers. Perhaps these Hebrews, with their large, vigorous families, would over-run their land, they reasoned. Would they ever assimilate into Egyptian culture? Would their needs overwhelm Egyptian schools and social services? Would the authorities need to adopt “Egyptian First” legislation to protect the native language? What would keep the influx of impoverished bedouins from taking over the land?
Something would have to be done to stem the tide. “Look, the Israelite people are more numerous and powerful than we are. Come, let us deal shrewdly with them, or they will increase and, in the event of war, join our enemies and fight against us and escape from the land” (Ex. 1:9-10).
So the Egyptians set about dominating the immigrants, setting taskmasters over them and herding them into forced labor. The “wetback” laborers were put into forced servitude and set to work building enormous grain storage cities. Still, the Hebrews grew in number. The oppression grew, but so did their population.
The pharaoh summoned the Hebrew midwives who assisted the slave women at birth. He gave them explicit instructions: “When you act as midwives to the Hebrew women and see them on the birthstool, if it is a boy, kill him; but if it is a girl, she shall live” (Ex. 1:16). By so ordering he hoped to secure a steady supply of slave women, while cutting down on the number of men who might mount an insurrection.
It was a fearful thing to be given a direct order by the pharaoh of all Egypt, arguably the most powerful man on earth at the time. The midwives, though, recognized a higher authority. “The midwives feared God; they did not do as the pharaoh of Egypt commanded them, but they let the boys live” (Ex. 1:17)
This is a remarkable turn of events. It is one of the first recorded acts of civil disobedience in history. Puah and Shiphrah feared pharaoh, but they feared God more. Their consciences would not permit them to obey the pharaoh. They did not oppose him to his face. To do so would have been suicidal. Instead, they stayed right where they were, quietly doing the work that they had always done, but simply not carrying out his command. This is called defecting in place, an act of quiet resistance. It is a time-honored practice, discovered by oppressed peoples throughout time. The Hebrew births, both male and female, continued to abound. When summoned by their overlord and questioned about permitting the boys to live, these “simple” women proved shrewder than pharaoh, playing upon Egyptian fears by saying, “Because the Hebrew women are not like the Egyptian women; for they are vigorous and give birth before the midwives come to them” (Ex. 1:19).
It was a convenient fiction, though perhaps the harder life of slavery had made the Hebrew women stronger than their Egyptian counterparts. It seemed to get the midwives off the hook. Their cagey explanation “put one over” on the ruler. The midwives practiced a form of subtle resistance honed by oppressed people the world over. Without this act of civil disobedience, the eventual Hebrew liberator Moses might well have been killed at birth. It is not too much to imagine that the midwives may have eventually helped Moses’ mother spirit him away before the Egyptians could throw him into the Nile by order of pharaoh. Far from condemning them for their resistance, the Bible records that “God dealt well with the midwives…and because the midwives feared God, he gave them families” (Ex. 1:20-21).
The book of Exodus is written not from the usual perspective of the dominant class but from the perspective of an oppressed population. The midwives know they are not prepared to take on the might of imperial Egypt. But, by their refusal to participate in the practice of killing living children, they take a quiet stand with some enormous consequences for the history of their people. Shiphrah and Puah, in their own small way, refuse to collaborate, and help set in motion events that were beyond their wildest dreams. They did not start a revolution, but they helped to set the stage for one, one that would come in its own time. By refusing to participate in a practice that ran contrary to their instincts as preservers of life, and one that they felt would be abhorrent to God, they became part of a work that was much larger than themselves.
The first step in finding our voices for the challenging work of public life is to cultivate our inner powers of resistance. We begin to find our own voice in small ways, in subtle acts of resistance to the usual ways of doing things. We decide not to succumb to pressures that are placed upon us to “go along and get along” with the way things are.
We pointedly don’t laugh at a racist or homophobic joke told within our hearing. We might respond instead with, “That doesn’t seem funny.”
We might return to running the dishwasher after a church supper, instead of adding styrofoam and plastic to our landfills.
We might decide to scale back extravagant wedding plans that run to the tens of thousands of dollars and opt for simplicity instead.
We could patronize local stores and small businesses, instead of always settling for the lowest price at the ‘big box” store.
We turn off reality shows, talk shows and entertainment T.V. that pander to the basest human instincts.
We decide not to go overboard this Christmas and then we don’t, finding ways to channel the difference toward those in need throughout the year.
We don’t jump on the latest technology bandwagon, deciding that our current smart phone is smart enough, our current computer is fast enough, our current T.V. has pixels enough.
We buy our food occasionally from the local farmers’ market or set out a small garden of our own to supplement our diet with vegetables we have had God’s help in growing ourselves.
We find our public voices by first being quiet, by noticing the temptation to collude in “the way things are,” and then, even in small ways, by refusing to do so any longer.
We learn to defect in place as did the courageous Hebrew midwives Shiphrah and Puah.
Defecting in Place
The Story of Shiphrah and Puah
Questions for reflection and discussion:
Is the notion of God taking sides a new one for you? Are you surprised at the idea that God takes the side of the oppressed?
Shiphrah and Puah are ordered by pharaoh to do something which goes against their consciences. Have you ever been asked by a person in authority to do something which went against your conscience? How did you respond?
How does Puah and Shiphrah’s tacit refusal to go along with pharaoh’s demand help them participate in the larger work of freeing God’s people?
What might we learn about public life from the practice of oppressed people defecting in place, outwardly giving the impression of complying, while maintaining moral freedom? Does the practice trouble you?
Are people who are not in an inferior power position to others obligated to speak up more forcefully than those who are?
Public life sometimes calls us to make compromises for the common good and sometimes calls us to stand our ground by refusing to participate in a questionable practice. Give an example of each from your life.