Names to Remember

Text: Exodus 1:8-2:10

You just heard a long story from the book of Exodus. It is an account of a particularly horrific order from the king – to kill all male Hebrew babies at childbirth. Who was the king who issued such an evil order? Surely, someone here remembers his name. After all, he was the most prestigious and powerful person living at the time. Surely someone remembers the name of the deranged soul who declared: “Kill all male Hebrew babies”? Who was the king who told midwives to act in absolute contradiction to their vocation, not to bring forth life, but to extinguish it? What was his name? I simply can’t remember it. 

The book of Exodus, the second book of the Bible, exudes wonderful biblical irony as it tells the story of a king whose name no one can remember. Isn’t it a marvelous irony in a world, then and now, that hinges on who holds the most military power and influence that the one person that history has forgotten is the king, the sovereign ruler of Egypt?

The names that Exodus wants us to remember are not those of a king, not the names of the Netanyahus or Bidens or Putins of the day, but the names of two obscure, seemingly powerless, Hebrew women. They are two women of an ethnic minority living in a time when the political will was to close the borders, to become isolated and insular in fear of the Hebrew immigrants.

The names the Exodus story would have us remember are two Hebrew women: Shiphrah and Puah. At great risk, these two women counter orders by the king to commit genocide. These two women, who possessed little of the power that was celebrated then or rewarded today, practiced civil disobedience and by doing so, they jeopardized their own lives. Told to be instruments of death, they conspired to be instruments of health and wholeness. They bear witness to the mothering power of God, whose will for life would override the order to kill male infants and whose power to save life would not be deterred by the death-dealing ways of the so-called powerful. The only power they trusted was the one God who holds ultimate power and not the no-name, soon-to-be forgotten king of Egypt.

         In typical Hebrew Bible fashion, this absolutely horrific story is told with marvelous humor. Listen again to the heart of the story: 

         The king of Egypt said to the Hebrew midwives, one of whom was named Shiphrah and the other Puah, 16 “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.” 17 But the midwives feared God; they did not do as the king of Egypt commanded them, but they let the boys live.18 So the king of Egypt s summoned the midwives and said to them, “Why have you done this and allowed the boys to live?” 19 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.” 

The king hears that more Hebrew male infants are being born. He then calls these two Hebrew midwives to the court to account for their failed mission. When they appear before the king, Shiphrah and Puah concoct an absolutely absurd story that somehow appeases bloodthirsty king.

Most often, though, faithful civil disobedience, especially when carried out by those of minority status, is rarely received so well. It is almost always costly, always courageous, and sometimes, deadly.

Just ask Daisy Bates. In 1952, Daisy became the Arkansas branch president of the NAACP. In 1954, when the Supreme Court ruled racial segregation of schools was unconstitutional, Daisy and others worked to figure out how to integrate the Little Rock Schools. Expecting more cooperation from the administration than they found, the NAACP and Daisy began working on various plans, and finally by 1957, they had settled on a basic tactic.

Seventy-five African American students registered at Little Rock's Central High School. Of these, nine were chosen to be the first to integrate the school. They became known as the Little Rock Nine. Daisy Bates was instrumental in supporting these nine students in their action.

Later Daisy and others were arrested and convicted for not turning over NAACP records. Her conviction was eventually overturned by the U.S. Supreme Court. In 1996, it was Daisy Bates who ran past the entrance to the church I was serving in Alexandria, Virginia, carrying the Olympic torch. What a courageous and inspiring woman of faith.

Names to remember: Shiphrah, Puah, and Daisy Bates. After my years in Atlanta, I would add the name of Murphy Davis to that formidable list. Murphy was a co-creator of the Open Door Community in Atlanta. She was a Presbyterian pastor and a midwife of God’s shalom as she defied death-dealing power wherever it surfaced. Here is a classic testimony from Murphy about the world’s treatment of the most vulnerable, like Shiphrah and Puah, who roam the earth. Murphy spoke: “The flagrant destruction of the earth and its precious resources and the destruction of human hope and human dignity are part of the same death-dealing spirit that says: Serve yourself. Take what's yours and then get yourself a gun and an insurance policy to protect it. Use up whatever you want right now and let someone else worry about tomorrow."

Whenever I would join a gathering of the faithful at the state capital on the night when Georgia would be executing one of its own, I would hear the midwife of justice, Murphy Davis, shouting in a piercing cry for all the state and all the nation to hear: “For God’s sake, choose life.”

Names to remember: Puah, Shiphrah, Daisy, and Murphy. I would add to that list of courageous, faithful, and inspiring women who practiced or now practice civil disobedience Lauren Ramseur and Ashley Diaz Mejias. Lauren and Ashley are Presbyterian pastors who head up the Voices of Jubilee, a justice mission of the Presbytery of the James that is supported by Cove. When society and the justice system are quick to incarcerate troubled children and youth, Lauren and Ashley accompany them through some of the most frightening circumstances that they will ever face. When prevailing tides of fear in society say, “Toss them in jail and throw away the key,” Ashley and Lauren remind these children, youth, and their families that our God is not one to give up on any of us, and courageous people of faith must not either. 

Names to remember: Shiphrah, Puah, Daisy, Murphy, Lauren, Ashley – all were or are midwives of health and wholeness against persistent powers of evil and abuse.  So, the next time someone tells you that you just have to accept injustice because the powers that be say you must, remember and celebrate the civil disobedience of Shiphrah and Puah. Remember not only Shiphrah and Puah, but also Daisy and Murphy, Ashley and Lauren, and all the midwives of God’s healing and wholeness, justice and peace throughout history, and all the midwives of healing and resistance who you know by name here at Cove, those whose faithful and courageous witness inspires you to speak when told to be silent and to act when told to stand down.

For, in the end, it is not the seemingly most powerful but actually, it is the most faithful who own the only names ever worth remembering.

                  AMEN