June 13, 2021: A Holy "No"
Exodus 1:8-22
Rev. Rhonda Blevins
Now a new king arose over Egypt, who did not know Joseph. He said to his people, “Look, the Israelite people are more numerous and more powerful than we. 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.” Therefore they set taskmasters over them to oppress them with forced labor. They built supply cities, Pithom and Rameses, for Pharaoh. But the more they were oppressed, the more they multiplied and spread, so that the Egyptians came to dread the Israelites. The Egyptians became ruthless in imposing tasks on the Israelites, and made their lives bitter with hard service in mortar and brick and in every kind of field labor. They were ruthless in all the tasks that they imposed on them. 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 boy, kill him; but if it is a girl, 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. So the king of Egypt summoned the midwives and said to them, “Why have you done this, and allowed the boys to live?” The midwives said to Pharaoh, “Because the Hebrew women are not like the Egyptian women; for they are vigorous and give birth before the midwife comes to them.” So God dealt well with the midwives; and the people multiplied and became very strong. And because the midwives feared God, he gave them families. Then Pharaoh commanded all his people, “Every boy that is born to the Hebrews you shall throw into the Nile, but you shall let every girl live.”
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How about a little mystery to start off this morning?
An acquaintance of mine recently became the pastor of an old Presbyterian church in Bedford, New York, 47 miles north/northeast of New York City. The church traces its history back to 1689 when a meetinghouse was established for town gatherings and religious services. The church was Congregational, sometimes Anglican, depending on what kind of preacher they could find to lead the church. They became Presbyterian when a Presbyterian preacher came to town by the name of Rev. William Tennett. Reverend Tennett would go on to establish the Log College, which we know today as Princeton University. The church has been through a lot during their long history—including the burning of their church building by British troops during the Revolutionary War.[1][2]
But the church rebuilt. The cornerstone for the current church building (their fourth building) was laid in 1871. But before that, in April 1865, the church completed the construction of a manse or parsonage for its pastor. Any history buff remember another significant event in April 1865? It’s the same month that President Lincoln was assassinated.
Fast forward 156 years to my acquaintance becoming pastor of this historic church and moving into the manse. Now, here’s the mystery for you to solve. In a downstairs room, the manse has a built-in bookcase. Along the bottom of the bookcase is a row of cupboard doors. And if you squeeze yourself through one of those cupboard doors, you can remove one of the back panels. If you squeeze yourself through that back panel, you find a mystery room—a space, really. Roughly 2 feet wide, 15 feet tall, maybe 15 feet long. Not big enough to call it a room, not accessible enough to use it for storage. Just wasted space.
Why? Your mystery to solve this morning is this: why would a Presbyterian Church, in 1865, build a manse for its pastor with this much wasted space? Spin on that for a bit as we dive into our scripture lesson today.
We’re continuing in our summer series called “Faces of Our Faith,” looking at some lesser-known characters from our sacred text. Today we encounter Shiphrah and Puah. Shiphrah and Puah were Hebrew midwives, and like the rest of the Hebrew people at that time, they were slaves in Egypt. A new king or Pharoah rose in Egypt who had no love for the Hebrew slaves, and he began to see the Hebrews as a threat. There were so many Hebrews that Pharoah was worried they could join forces with an enemy of Egypt and help overthrow him. So Pharoah came up with a plan to control the Hebrew population. He instructed the Hebrew midwives, Shiphrah and Puah, to kill any male baby they helped deliver, but to allow female babies to live.
Can you imagine? The king, the Pharoah, gives you direct orders to murder healthy baby boys . . . babies you just helped deliver? Follow his orders, and you become a murderer and a traitor to your own people. Don’t follow his orders and you will meet Pharoah’s wrath and surely die. What a terrible situation to be in. Just . . . awful.
What would you do if given these two choices?
Occasionally in our lives we find ourselves confronted with ethical dilemmas, not usually as dire a situation as Shiphrah and Puah faced, but ethical dilemmas, nonetheless. Here are some dilemmas that aren’t uncommon in our world today:
Workplace: When your employer tells you to do something that is against your moral code, what do you do? Will you fudge the numbers? Will you lie to make the sale?
Medicine: What is ethical when we are caring for a loved one or patient who can’t make their own decisions? The abortion debate is among the medical ethics issues.
Online: Is it ethical to share divisive posts, or to repost something without first fact-checking? To have anonymous social media accounts? Is it ethical to monitor a teenager’s online use, or to get into an online debate (read: argument)?
Current events: Is it ethical to comply with unjust laws? Is it ethical to do nothing when we see injustice? Is it ethical to break the law if the law is unjust or unethical?
It’s this last question that Shiphrah and Puah had to wrestle with. The Pharoah was more than an employer—he made the laws. Whatever the Pharoah said, that was the law. If the Pharoah told the midwives to kill baby boys, it was the law to kill baby boys.
Did they kill Hebrew baby boys? They did not. It is said that this act of refusing to follow Pharoah’s unethical mandate is the first act of civil disobedience in written history. Textbook civil disobedience.
Reading between the lines, it appears that the midwives give lip service to obeying Pharoah’s order. Outwardly agreeing to the mandate gave them time to devise a third way. You see, at first, it seemed they had two options: 1) obey Pharaoh and become murderers and traitors to their own people, or 2) refuse Pharoah’s order and surely die at Pharoah’s hand. But the midwives find a third way: they can give lip service and pretend to obey Pharoah’s order, but secretly refuse.
Oh, Pharoah, we’re so sorry! The Hebrew women are not like the Egyptian women; they’re so very strong! They just pop those babies out before we can even get to them!
(And if you believe that, I’ve got some ocean-front property in Bedford, New York I’d like to sell you.)
Was it ethical for the midwives to break “the law”? Was it ethical for the midwives to lie to Pharoah?
The scripture’s treatment of these two women certainly make it seem like the answer is “yes” to both of those questions. You see, the Hebrew midwives served the kingdom of God over and above the earthly kingdom in which they found themselves. Their civil disobedience was “A Holy No”—“No” to the laws that do harm, that oppress.
You see, just because it’s the law, doesn’t mean it’s just.
The Bible tells us that God “dealt well” with the midwives; God blessed them. And, just an observation, it’s not all that common for a woman to be named in the scriptures—not unless they found great historical standing among the Israelites. These two midwives became heroes to the Hebrew people, and now to us. Let’s say their names! Shiphrah and Puah! Faces of our faith!
So back to Bedford, New York and our mystery question remains about a manse built in 1865 with a strange, mostly unusable space hidden behind a bookcase. A little more historical perspective, in case you need it to solve the mystery: the manse was completed one month before the end of the Civil War. During the Civil War, President Lincoln delivered the Emancipation Proclamation freeing all slaves, but before that, the law of the land was articulated in the Fugitive Slave Act of 1850, part of the Compromise of 1850. This law mandated that any escaped slave, upon capture, had to be returned to the slaveholder—officials in free states had to cooperate. Abolitionists called it the “Bloodhound Bill”—as dogs were used to track down fugitive slaves. (Remember: just because it’s the law doesn’t mean it’s just.)
During this same time in our nation’s history, the underground railroad, a ragtag network of abolitionists and freed slaves, helped slaves escape. Because of the fugitive slave law, Canada was the most desirable endpoint to a long, clandestine journey as an escaped slave. People called “conductors” led the fugitives to safety. Along the way, there was a network of hiding places: homes, school buildings, and . . . you’ve guessed it by now . . . churches.
The mysterious space behind the bookcase in the manse at Bedford Presbyterian Church was built to be a hideout as a part of the underground railroad.[3]
And these folks were PRESBYTERIANS! Where they love everything to be done “decently and in order.” Those PRESBYTERIANS held runaway slaves— fugitives—in their manse. They designed their parsonage for this illicit purpose . . . to hide fugitive slaves, when hiding fugitive slaves was against the law.
Just because it’s the law, doesn’t mean it’s just.
Sometimes we must choose between God’s kingdom purposes and the laws of the land. And when we have little voice, sometimes we must act in opposition to unjust laws. The Bedford Presbyterian Church—they chose well.
Changing denominational examples, I love that in the United Methodist church, whenever someone is baptized or joins the church, they take a vow. Part of that vow asks: “Do you accept the freedom and power God gives you to resist evil, injustice, and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves?”[4] The expected response is, “I do.” And even though it seems a bit rote in the liturgy, let’s think about the question for a moment, and your own, honest answer to the question: “Do you accept the freedom and power God gives you to resist evil, injustice, and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves?” If you do (and I hope you do), then with that freedom (as with all freedoms) comes what? Responsibility. Whew.
But we are not alone in our freedom, our power, and our responsibility to resist evil, injustice, and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves. We come from a long line of resisters, beginning with our sisters, Shiphrah and Puah, who risked everything in civil disobedience.
As we close today, I invite you to join me in the spiritual practice of visio divina—Latin for sacred or holy viewing. The hands on the front of the bulletin represent the hands of one of the Hebrew midwives, our forebears. In our moment for reflection, find yourself in the image and reflect, could you do what they did and resist evil even to your own peril? And perhaps, more importantly, can you do what they did and resist evil even to your own peril? Can you find your courage in the hands of the Hebrew midwife?
[1] https://paulalcorn.com/tag/bedford-presbyterian-church/
[2] https://bedforpresbyterian.s3.amazonaws.com/Web+Site+Data/VISION+STUDY+DOC+12.1.19.pdf
[3] Video by Carol Howard Merritt showing the “mystery” space: https://twitter.com/CarolHoward/status/1310303757872308224
[4] The United Methodist Book of Worship, Baptismal Covenant I, 88.