This week we start reading Sh’mot, the book of Exodus. We will move swiftly from the death of Joseph and his brothers, to a new Pharaoh, who, we are told, does not know Joseph. What he does notice, is how numerous Israel’s children are and he plots to stop their number from growing any further. (Exodus 1: 8-10) When hard labour does not work, he turns to infanticide. He first seeks the help of the midwives and then of all his people.
In this brief and horrific account, I find myself stuck on one particular phrase. The boys are to be killed, but not the girls. The king of Egypt tells the midwives, If it is a boy, kill him, and if it is a girl, let her live. (Exodus 1: 16) Again, when he orders all his people, he tells them, Every boy born you will throw into the river, but let every girl live. (Exodus 1: 22)
Why this explicit decree to let the girls live? Who is served by this peculiar form of sexism? Some commentators argue that this a shrewd move of the king. It makes it possible for the midwives to kill the boys before the mothers have even seen their child and thus make it all look like an accident. It just so happens that some children survive and others do not. Others explain the girls’ survival in terms of priced cattle. They will be fertile women and as such serve the Egyptians.
Whatever the reason, the decree only contributes to the demise of the king of Egypt. For it is women who stand at the beginning of the destruction of Pharaoh and of his empire. The midwives Shifrah and Puah fear God and let the boys live. They tell Pharaoh that the Hebrew women are not like the Egyptian women. They are hardy and they have already given birth before the midwife arrives. (Exodus 1: 17-19) It is again a woman who places her beautiful baby boy in a basket in the river. It is the boy’s sister who watched over him. It is Pharaoh’s daughter who saves the child and raises it, knowing full well it is a Hebrew child. (Exodus 2: 2-10) She names him Moses. A few chapters later, it is Zipporah, Moses’ wife who saves him again, but now from God rather than Pharaoh. (Exodus 4: 24-26)
I wonder if the decree to let the girls live has been added by the story-teller. As experienced readers we detect Pharaoh’s demise from afar. He will suffer the fate he tries to inflict on others. His numbers will diminish and he will be thrown into water and drown. He does not think he has anything to fear from women, yet it is his own daughter who will raise the boy who will lead the people of Israel away.
Pharaoh tries to divide the people and put them against one another, his people against the children of Israel. For the women, in contrast, such divisions do not seem to matter. Pharaoh’s daughter knows that the child she saves is not Egyptian, but a Hebrew. Shifrah and Puah may not be Hebrews either. The argument here rests partly on a grammatical point. Are they Hebrew midwives or midwives to the Hebrew women? There is also the political aspect. Would Pharaoh have trusted Hebrew midwives with killing Hebrew boys? (See also Moshe Lavee & Shana Strauch-Schick, ‘The “Egyptian” Midwives’, thetorah.com)
In these first verses not all the women have a name. Shifrah and Puah do, but Moses’ mother and sister are only named later in the story. In Exodus 6: 20 we learn that his mother’s name is Jochebed and we do not learn that his sister is called Miriam until they have crossed the Sea of Reeds (Exodus 15: 20). Pharaoh’s daughter has to wait for the rabbis, who name her Bitya or Batya, the daughter of yah, the daughter of God.
Thus we become aware of yet another turn in the story. After these first few chapters, the story goes along with Pharaoh and judges women no longer of importance. They have played their part and now the story focuses again on the two opposing parties. It is Moses and Aaron against Pharaoh and the Egyptians. Again, later, when Moses goes up mount Sinai to receive the commandments, the women are kept away. (Exodus 19ff.)
Here, we can take a step back and realise how much has changed. In our tradition now, we no longer keep women away from Torah. Boys and girls celebrate becoming b’nei mitzvah by learning torah. Men and women study at Leo Baeck College. This year it is fifty years ago that the first female rabbi, Dr. Jackie Tabbick, was ordained in the United Kingdom. I am often reminded how the women who came before me have made my path so much easier. No woman is an island.
The story of these women at the beginning of Sh’mot also shows that there is power in being ignored. It may not immediately have changed their position, but it enabled them to save lives and end oppression. In the end it is only Pharaoh who is never named. The man who thought he could control life and death dies nameless.
Even more importantly, in a time when loud voices are trying to divide us again by tribe, we hold onto to the women at the beginning of Sh’mot. Jochebed, Miriam, Shifrah, Puah, Batya and Zipporah surpass tribal boundaries. Egyptian and Hebrew women are alike after all. They know that these divisions can kill. This motley group, these names, stand at the beginning of the people of Israel.
Dr. Hannah Marije Altorf, LBC rabbinic student
The views expressed in this D’var Torah do not necessarily reflect the position of Leo Baeck College.