This little light of mine: A meditation on Exodus 1:17-21

“The king of Egypt had a talk with the two Hebrew midwives; one was named Shiphrah and the other Puah. He said, 'When you deliver the Hebrew women, look at the sex of the baby. If it’s a boy, kill him; if it’s a girl, let her live.'”

“But the midwives had far too much respect for God and didn’t do what the king of Egypt ordered; they let the boy babies live. The king of Egypt called in the midwives. 'Why didn’t you obey my orders? You’ve let those babies live!'”

“The midwives answered Pharaoh, 'The Hebrew women aren’t like the Egyptian women; they’re vigorous. Before the midwife can get there, they’ve already had the baby.'”

“God was pleased with the midwives. The people continued to increase in number—a very strong people. And because the midwives honored God, God gave them families of their own.”

Exodus 1:17-21, The Message

After a year and a half in the Gospel of Mark, I have turned to the Book of Exodus for my personal Bible reading to begin the new year. Exodus is all about departure from what was reality for the people of God then – slavery, bondage, endless servitude – into something entirely new - freedom. It's about God at long last making good on his promise to Abraham four hundred or more years before to bring them back to the land that was their inheritance (see Gen 15). It's a book that includes episodes of God flexing his arms and laying down the law (literally!) in epic proportions as well as his unending forbearance with his people who even try his patience (and that's saying a lot!)

Exodus 1 starts something like this

The first chapter of Exodus reads something like the opening crawl of any of the Star Wars films i.e., “It is a dark time for the rebellion, etc., etc,” It is a dark time in the life of the people of God. They are slaves in Egypt. For the last four centuries that has been their lot. The heroic deeds of Governor Joseph have long since passed out of record. Now the powers that be – specifically, the power, Pharaoh – view these sheep-herders far differently than how they were regarded “back in the day.” Once given the fertile land of Goshen due to their profession now they are, as Donald Gowan puts it, “just aliens with an alarmingly high birth rate” (Theology in Exodus). Like an infestation of cockroaches, something must be done about “them.”

As the author of Exodus tells it, the first thing the king tries is back-breaking labor. In fact, in verses 13 and 14 of chapter 1 we're told the Egyptians work them “ruthlessly” (13), make their lives “bitter” (14a) and use them “ruthlessly” (14b), an unusual word, I've learned, that is used only five times in Scripture and all referring to circumstances of hardship and oppression. But despite his effort to stifle their birthrate, it has the opposite effect: they multiply like rabbits.

So, he resorts to Plan B: infanticide, gender “cleansing” at a woman's most vulnerable and powerless moment, when her baby emerges at long last from the safety of the womb. Imagine this scene where Pharaoh, dressed in all the magnificent robes of his office, sitting ensconced on his throne instructing two peasant midwives, Shiphrah and Puah, to do his dirty work. “If a woman gives birth to a girl, let it live; but if its a boy, kill it” (16). Standing before him, they are nothing; he is everything. They bow their heads and place their arm over their chest as a sign of willingness to submit to his will. But if we look closely the fingers of their other hand behind their backs are crossed. They have no intention of following through with this ridiculous command.

Quietly, without proclamation or fanfare, they defy Pharaoh, considered in that neck of the woods to be something akin to a god on earth. But the narrator tells us that they fear Another (17), the implication of course, Who is greater even than Pharaoh himself. They continue to help the Hebrew mothers at their birthing stools bring their male babies into the world. And after awhile when it is clear that Pharaoh's “Final Solution” is not working, he calls them on the carpet to give an accounting why the Hebrew population is growing and not declining. You would think that when summoned to the king's throne room they would be as scared as Dorothy, the Scarecrow, the Tin Man and the Cowardly Lion are when led into the presence of the Great and Terrible Wizard of Oz. But instead of being daunted by him they play him for a fool. Essentially, they tell him a bald face lie that when they are summoned to a birth they are forever showing up late, a picture of complete incompetency (19).

You would expect Pharaoh to act like Caroll's Queen of Hearts and cry to the guards “Off with their heads! Off with their heads!” seeing through this flimsy excuse as so much cockamamie nonsense. Instead, he dismisses them from the throne room. The king of the world, with all power and might, has just been trumped by two lowly midwives who fear God and are willing to tell a fib for a greater good. Which I think is the author's way of telling us an inside-joke concluding his comment about how God rewarded them for their faithfulness with a wink and a nod (20-21). As J.A. Motyer puts it, “There is a wealth of irony running throughout these opening chapters...for all his 'greatness', Pharaoh is left unnamed, while the midwives (whom he regarded as mere tools of his policy) are remembered individually. This is Exodus' perception of who is important and who is not” (The Bible Speaks Today: The Message of Exodus, p. 29).

They wouldn't comply with the king's command either

These women, more than likely representative of many more scattered among the Hebrews, had no power, no influence, no connections, no money. All they possessed was respect and love for God and with that defied one of the greatest powers of all time. Like Daniel's three friends Shadrach, Meschach and Abednego many, many generations of Israelites later, they were unwilling to bend their knee to the equivalent of Nebuchadnezzar's statue in their day. And like those boys, God honored them for their willingness to go out on a limb for him and delivered them from the fire smoldering in Pharaoh's eyes. Instead of the firing squad, God blessed them with families of their own while Abraham's descendants continued to rapidly multiply.

Speaking of the first two chapters of Exodus Motyer says, “These...are the bare bones of a great story. It is a story to delight in, showing how the weak and powerless of the world overcame the strong and mighty; a story to horrify because of the terrible suffering it portrays; and a story to encourage because of the sure, providential care of God” (p. 30). As I reflect on this, I'm reminded of complimentary quotes by two individuals as opposite as night and day. First, Mother Teresa, the saint of the poor of Calcutta, who once said, “We can do no great things. We can only do small things with great love.” The other is by no less a darkened soul as Frederich Nietzsche who once commented, “The essential thing 'in heaven and earth' is...that there should be long obedience in the same direction; there thereby results, and has always resulted in the long run, something which has made life worth living.” God rewards acts of faithfulness whether they are considered “great” in the eyes of the press or, as is most likely the case, go on undetected and unrecorded for posterity. During the dark days of World War II, Christians like the ten Boom's of Holland's Haarlem defied the “pharaoh's edict” of that day by hiding descendants of Abraham as long as they could. All of them suffered for that choice and went to their reward before war's end save Corrie who spent the rest of her life traveling the world and telling the story of what God had done in the camp where they were imprisoned. They did what they could and their story is still told all these years later.

“This Little Light of Mine”, the gospel song we were taught as children, is a call to battle. Every week at the conclusion of their weekly service, the Lutheran fellowship of which my parents are members of sing this as their benediction. By the sound of their magnificent pipe organ accompanied by an odd assortment of tambourines and music makers spread throughout the sanctuary they sing this to one another as they return to the lives "outside":

This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine!

This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine!

Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine!

Hide it under a bushel, NO! I'm gonna let it shine!

Hide it under a bushel, NO! I'm gonna let it shine!

Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine!

Won't let Satan blow it out, I'm gonna let it shine!

Won't let Satan blow it out, I'm gonna let it shine!

Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine!

As I read their story again I am challenged to let my little light shine in this neck of the woods. The world will always have its varieties of pharaohs seeking to intimidate the "little people" into compliance. The people of God overcome such blowhards and braggarts by fearing and loving God quietly, persistently and faithfully regardless if their lives seem out of step with the culture around them. It is the kind of defiance that we have always been called to regardless of who's in charge or calling the shots.