The king of Egypt said to the Hebrew midwives, one of whom was named Shiphrah and the other Puah, “When you act as midwives to the Hebrew women and see them on the birthstool, if it is a son, kill him, but if it is a daughter, she shall live.” But the midwives feared God; they did not do as the king of Egypt commanded them, but they let the boys live. -Exodus 1:15-17

Two weeks ago, Maggie wrote about a favorite Bible story, perhaps one you hadn’t heard before, about Balaam and the talking donkey. (In middle school, my confirmation class laughed a great deal at the heading in our Bibles: “Balaam’s Talking Ass.”) I’d like to share one of my favorites, and probably also unknown to most: the story of Shiphrah (that’s SHIFF-ruh) and Puah (POO-uh). You all know the story that comes after Shiphrah and Puah: Moses is born, hidden in a basket by his mother, watched over by his sister Miriam, raised by Pharaoh’s daughter, and eventually called by God to lead the Israelites out of slavery in Egypt to freedom in Canaan.

But before the parted Red Sea, before the ten plagues, before the burning bush, even before Moses was born, there was a shrewd, ruthless pharaoh. This king looked out at Egypt and saw more Israelite people than Egyptian people. He had forgotten that the Israelites and Egyptians had lived together in peace, flourishing in their mutual work and neighborliness for generations. The king was filled with dread and his heart was hard at the thought of sharing Egypt with the Israelites. He came up with a cruel plan: to command the midwives of the Israelites to kill every son born to the Israelites.

Shiphrah and Puah had a choice: to obey the authority of the government or to obey the authority of God. They chose to revere God (whenever the Old Testament uses the phrase “fear God,” it can also mean “respect God” or “revere God”) and disobey the king. We might call their actions “civil disobedience,” like when Paul Revere defied the curfew to alert American militias of British occupation, or when Miep and Jan Gies helped to hide Anne Frank and her family from the Nazis for over two years.

What I love most about this short story, this prelude to the Moses saga, is that two ordinary women were able to find the courage to do what was right. I am reminded of a quotation from Swiss theologian Karl Barth, who, among other things, vehemently condemned the Nazis: “Courage is fear that has said its prayers.” Shiphrah and Puah were courageous, not because they were extraordinary, but because they held God in higher esteem than the king of Egypt. In other words, it was their faithfulness that defined Shiphrah and Puah.

Because of their faithfulness, Shiphrah and Puah are remembered by name. 

Did you notice that the pharaoh, the king of Egypt, isn’t named at all? The author couldn’t be bothered. The next pharaoh, the one who deals with the plagues: he doesn’t get named either. It’s a clear message: don’t bother with oppressors and evildoers. 

Look for the helpers, to borrow from Rev. Mr. Rogers. Look for the faithful people whose first allegiance is to God, even if that brings them into conflict with other authorities. Tell their stories. See how their little acts of prayer-filled courage add up to an avalanche of faithful, loving obedience to God. Give joyful thanks to God for people like Shiphrah and Puah, whose disobedience to Pharaoh saved the lives of children whose only guilt was being Israelite instead of Egyptian.

Shiphrah and Puah’s ordinariness tells us, too, that God doesn’t need superheroes. Miep Gies was often embarrassed at the awards she received for helping the Frank family, saying, “I only did what any decent person would do.” Decent, ordinary people who have said their prayers are the means God chooses to do good and protect life in our world. We are ordinary people. God has chosen us. Let us say our prayers.

Do you have a favorite Bible story you’d like to reflect on and share? Reach out to Pastor Beth.