(טו) וַיֹּ֙אמֶר֙ מֶ֣לֶךְ מִצְרַ֔יִם לַֽמְיַלְּדֹ֖ת הָֽעִבְרִיֹּ֑ת אֲשֶׁ֨ר שֵׁ֤ם הָֽאַחַת֙ שִׁפְרָ֔ה וְשֵׁ֥ם הַשֵּׁנִ֖ית פּוּעָֽה׃ (טז) וַיֹּ֗אמֶר בְּיַלֶּדְכֶן֙ אֶת־הָֽעִבְרִיּ֔וֹת וּרְאִיתֶ֖ן עַל־הָאָבְנָ֑יִם אִם־בֵּ֥ן הוּא֙ וַהֲמִתֶּ֣ן אֹת֔וֹ וְאִם־בַּ֥ת הִ֖יא וָחָֽיָה׃ (יז) וַתִּירֶ֤אןָ הַֽמְיַלְּדֹת֙ אֶת־הָ֣אֱלֹקִ֔ים וְלֹ֣א עָשׂ֔וּ כַּאֲשֶׁ֛ר דִּבֶּ֥ר אֲלֵיהֶ֖ן מֶ֣לֶךְ מִצְרָ֑יִם וַתְּחַיֶּ֖יןָ אֶת־הַיְלָדִֽים׃ (יח) וַיִּקְרָ֤א מֶֽלֶךְ־מִצְרַ֙יִם֙ לַֽמְיַלְּדֹ֔ת וַיֹּ֣אמֶר לָהֶ֔ן מַדּ֥וּעַ עֲשִׂיתֶ֖ן הַדָּבָ֣ר הַזֶּ֑ה וַתְּחַיֶּ֖יןָ אֶת־הַיְלָדִֽים׃ (יט) וַתֹּאמַ֤רְןָ הַֽמְיַלְּדֹת֙ אֶל־פַּרְעֹ֔ה כִּ֣י לֹ֧א כַנָּשִׁ֛ים הַמִּצְרִיֹּ֖ת הָֽעִבְרִיֹּ֑ת כִּֽי־חָי֣וֹת הֵ֔נָּה בְּטֶ֨רֶם תָּב֧וֹא אֲלֵהֶ֛ן הַמְיַלֶּ֖דֶת וְיָלָֽדוּ׃ (כ) וַיֵּ֥יטֶב אֱלֹקִ֖ים לַֽמְיַלְּדֹ֑ת וַיִּ֧רֶב הָעָ֛ם וַיַּֽעַצְמ֖וּ מְאֹֽד׃
(15) The king of Egypt spoke to the Hebrew midwives, one of whom was named Shiphrah and the other Puah, (16) saying, “When you deliver the Hebrew women, look at the birthstool: if it is a boy, kill him; if it is a girl, let her live.” (17) The midwives, fearing God, did not do as the king of Egypt had told them; they let the boys live. (18) So the king of Egypt summoned the midwives and said to them, “Why have you done this thing, letting the boys live?” (19) The midwives said to Pharaoh, “Because the Hebrew women are not like the Egyptian women: they are vigorous. Before the midwife can come to them, they have given birth.” (20) And God dealt well with the midwives; and the people multiplied and increased greatly.
Amanda Daloisio, Reflections on the Hebrew Midwives, Radical Discipleship Biblical Women Series
[O]ut of this misery comes a moment of great courage. The women disregard the edict of death imposed by the empire and instead choose to remain faithful to life. And so is recounted the first biblical example of individual moral resistance to an empire.
The Talmud states,
“In reward for the righteous women of that generation, Israel was redeemed from Egypt.”
It is out of this community of righteous, faithful women that Shiphrah and Puah come. But they are called before the king not because they are righteous but because as midwives they hold a precious role in society. The king, in his utter disregard for both life and community, sees them only as tools. They who are blessed with bringing new life into the world are now charged to take life in the service of the empire.
The edict of the king calls for death, the killing of newborns. It carries with it the danger of the extinction of a generation, and ultimately, a people. It aims to penetrate the psyche of a community by commanding that at the moment of birth, even before the killing is to be done, those given this ignominious task are first required to look for and see difference: if it is a boy, kill him; but if it is a girl, she shall live. Ex 1:16 The woman, the midwives are to look at the newborn life and see difference and based on that difference assign judgment, and after judgment, take action. For some they are commanded to choose death. Here is the new plan of the Empire: life shall begin and be lived according to difference, separation, judgment and death.
But the midwives feared God; they did not do as the king of Egypt commanded them. Ex 1:17. This consciousness of God’s existence, this fear of God, is a phrase repeated in moments of moral decision-making. When Moses selects leaders for the people, he does so based on their fear of God. (Ex 18:21) Joseph also fears God and thus wins the trust of his brothers. (Gn42:18-20).
[...]The fear of God also contains moral requirements and in the case of Shiphrah and Puah it confirms that they will refuse to see as the empire sees. They refuse to fear the ones the empire fears. They refuse to follow the actions of death that the empire commands. And lives are saved.
The king then calls for Shiphrah and Puah again, demanding their reason for not following his order. They do not explicitly answer his question but instead assert thatthe Hebrew women are not like the Egyptian women; for they are vigorous and give birth before the midwife comes to them.” Ex 1:19. Their clever, and somewhat cheeky, answer asserts their position as outsiders to the empire and slings a bit of an insult to their oppressors. And for their steadfastness they are rewarded, for God dealt well with the midwives; and the people multiplied and became very strong. Ex 1:20.
It is clear that this nameless king of Egypt, does not anticipate or comprehend the influence of Shiphrah and Puah within the Hebrew community. It is both the arrogance of power and a cultural dismissal of women that allows for him to assume they will kill their own sons simply because he orders it so. It is the Hebrew men who have been a threat to him and so on them the subjugation has been focused. But in the meantime the community of women have been quietly, and importantly, living faithful lives.
There has always been a history of life within the violent confines of empire, a narrative that lives and breathes outside of the mainstream. Like the subconscious self this narrative often lives slightly below the surface of the recorded story, emerging every once in a while as a reminder that it exists. The story of Shiphrah and Puah is our story and so we too must be ever conscious of what we know to be life giving. And when the Empire tries to use its power towards death and difference and fear we will hear those words, understand their dark purpose and continue our work faithfully.
If we imagined ourselves as Shiphrah and Puah, how could we enact civil disobedience in our time and place?
Where are we responsible to act righteously?
(1) A certain man of the house of Levi went and married a Levite woman. (2) The woman conceived and bore a son; and when she saw how beautiful he was, she hid him for three months. (3) When she could hide him no longer, she got a wicker basket for him and caulked it with bitumen and pitch. She put the child into it and placed it among the reeds by the bank of the Nile. (4) And his sister stationed herself at a distance, to learn what would befall him. (5) The daughter of Pharaoh came down to bathe in the Nile, while her maidens walked along the Nile. She spied the basket among the reeds and sent her slave girl to fetch it. (6) When she opened it, she saw that it was a child, a boy crying. She took pity on it and said, “This must be a Hebrew child.” (7) Then his sister said to Pharaoh’s daughter, “Shall I go and get you a Hebrew nurse to suckle the child for you?” (8) And Pharaoh’s daughter answered, “Yes.” So the girl went and called the child’s mother. (9) And Pharaoh’s daughter said to her, “Take this child and nurse it for me, and I will pay your wages.” So the woman took the child and nursed it. (10) When the child grew up, she brought him to Pharaoh’s daughter, who made him her son. She named him Moses, explaining, “I drew him out of the water.” (11) Some time after that, when Moses had grown up, he went out to his kinsfolk and witnessed their labors. He saw an Egyptian beating a Hebrew, one of his kinsmen.
The liberation of the Israelites is orchestrated throughout by women.
Commentators have noted the irony of Pharaoh's orders to throw all Hebrew males in the river being countermanded by his own daughter, who saves not just any Hebrew child, but the Hebrews' savior.
Rabbi Albert Axelrad, chaplain of Brandeis University Hillel
Sh'ma, October 1978
The locus classicus of non-violent resistance to an oppressive regime in the Hebrew Bible is to be found in the persons of two otherwise obscure women. Ex. 1:15 ff. tells of Shifra and Puah, the Hebrew mid wives who conscientiously disobeyed Pharoah's edict to kill all newborn Hebrew males. Jewish education, alas, has largely ignored Judaism's teaching about civil disobedience in response to the call of Divine imperative/conscience and the fact that its paradigm is to be found in these two heroic women.
Yet it is noteworthy and not mere accident that the Hebrew Bible sees fit to preserve the midwives' names. They came from nowhere, are introduced abruptly in the text and are not heard from later. Yet, their singularly courageous act merits their being mentioned by name if only in one verse. I feel that the Bible's very succinctness underscores the uniqueness of their act. By means of conspicuous brevity it captures and highlights the consequential nature of Shifra and Puah's disobedience for which they are handsomely rewarded....
It is time, it seems to me, to recoup for Shifra and Puah, and for the noble tradition of civil disobedience and response to God's ultimate call on our allegiance which they represent, their rightful place of prominence in Judaism.
Aryeh Bernstein, From Where Did the Israelites Get Timbrels in the Desert?
Miriam, the Women, and Playing the Long Game toward Liberation
“Miriam the Prophet, Aaron’s sister, took a timbrel in her hand; and all the women went out after her with timbrels and with flutes” (Exodus 15:20).
So teaches this week’s Torah portion in the immediate aftermath of the Song of the Sea, or, better, perhaps in generation of the Song of the Sea, as my beloved teacher, Rav Bonna Devora Haberman, z”l, taught.
The early Midrashic work Mekhilta of R. Yishmael asks a fundamental question:
“But from where did the Israelites get timbrels & dance-flutes in the desert?!”
“?!וכי מנין היו להם לישראל תופים ומחולות במדבר”
This question is deceptively perceptive. On its face, it asks a technical question, but at its heart is a profoundly human one: How does liberation happen? How does it actually happen? If real human beings under real oppression are really emerging from it, what are the mechanics? How does a bunch of slaves who just made a run for it get timbrels and flutes in the desert? Consider the midrash’s answer:
“Rather, righteous people were confident and knew that the Holy Blessed One was doing miracles & mighty things for them, so when they left Egypt, they constructed timbrels and flutes.”
A few lessons can be learned here. No, I’ll say it more strongly: I think we are at our peril if we don’t learn these lessons, and truly internalize them:
1) Confidence is crucial and precedes triumph; redemption requires swagger. Even though the Israelites were long-time slaves, some had the confidence to prepare for triumph. Maybe being commanded to despoil the Egyptians on their way out helped them build up that confidence. That is, being assured that their labor was valuable — that they are valuable — that they were owed reparations, and that they had the backing and even the obligation to confront their oppressors to demand them, is profoundly constitutive of human dignity and confidence.
2) Liberation needs celebration: There’s a time for confrontations, and morbidity; there’s also a time to bust out those instruments and shake your booty. Some Israelite women understood that. Liberation that doesn’t pass through song and dance may be a mirage.
3) Liberation requires preparation. The midrash could have said that their confidence led them to bring the instruments they already had. It could have easily said that these timbrels and flutes were in the spoils they took them from the Egyptians. No, they made them. Real swagger isn’t just spontaneous and in the moment. It plans ahead.
4) Granted, the language of the midrash for “righteous people”, is the “all-inclusive”, masculine “tzadikim”, but it’s hard not to read this as especially the women who were doing the preparation work with the instruments, since it’s the women who have and use the instruments. Throughout the exodus story, women, at the bottom of the totem pole, reject the option of trying to socially climb into slightly less subordinate positions by selling out their people, but understand that real freedom requires solidarity and dignity. It’s the women who are the swaggering, well-prepared, freedom-fighters who understand that celebration is at the heart of liberation. Rashi, commenting on this verse, understands this when he renders the midrash in the feminine: “Righteous women of that generation were confident that the Holy Blessed One was doing miracles for them, so they brought out timbrels from Egypt.”
Making instruments takes time. That means that during Egyptian captivity, before seeing the shocking slaying of the first born or the wondrous parting of the sea, during the dark hour of oppression, these women played the long game, banked on liberation, believed that it was coming, and prepared for it painstakingly. Victory does not come just through playing defense against crisis, but, even in hours much darker than ours, playing a long game to win.