Exodus
1:8-2:10
August
24, 2014
Approximately
three years ago, I was moving from Iowa to Oklahoma. In the midst of packing boxes and making decisions
and doing all the things you do when you’re moving, I made a visit to the
community college where I taught for seven years. At that time, I hadn’t taught on campus for
over a year, although I’d been teaching online.
When I went, I knew that the majority of students I’d taught would no
longer be there. But I didn’t expect to
know as few teachers as I did. Although
I was an adjunct, I still spent a great deal of time on that campus. So it was disconcerting, to say the least, to
be remembered by so few – or forgotten by so many. I think I expected to walk in and be greeted
like a long lost friend. Instead, I
received a few "Oh yeah, Amy. You
taught ethics didn't you?" Even the
folks who did remember me and were glad to see me had work to do. They had papers to grade and reports to
submit. Life at the college had gone inexorably
on, without me. I walked away from that
visit feeling as though my name was changed from Amy to Amy Who? It is hard to be unremembered.
In
the story before us today, life has also gone inexorably on. Last week we completed our journeys through
Genesis. We left the Joseph Cycle with Joseph,
the prime minister of Egypt, reconciled with his brothers. His entire family has moved from Canaan to
Egypt, to the land of Goshen. Not only
did Joseph save his own flesh and blood from the terrible famine devastating
that part of the world, he saved all of Egypt as well. Because of his salvific actions, you’d expect
the name Joseph to be uttered in reverent tones for generations. Yet at the beginning of this new act in the
story of God’s people, many generations have passed. Centuries have passed, and a new king, a new
pharaoh, has risen to power. If someone
were to say the name "Joseph" to this pharaoh, I suspect his response
would have been, "Joseph who?"
Joseph, the Hebrew man who saved Egypt has been forgotten. Not only has Joseph been forgotten, but his
people are now feared by this new king. He
fears them because there are just so many of them! If Egypt goes to war, the Israelites might
join with the enemy and fight against him.
How did he deal with this imagined threat? He sought to control them by mercilessly
enslaving them. Perhaps they can be
broken through hard labor. Maybe, just
maybe, working long hours in brutal conditions will keep their population in
check. But the Israelites continue to
multiply. It seems that even torturous
hours of backbreaking work couldn't stop the Hebrew people from being
prolific. Even if Joseph was no longer
remembered, the promise of God to Abraham that his descendants would number
more than the stars seemed to be coming true – even in or in spite of, slavery.
Pharaoh’s
fear of the Hebrew people made it easy for him to make them the scapegoat for
any of Egypt’s ills. As history testifies,
when our political leaders tell us to be afraid of a group of people, we too
often comply. So not only did Pharaoh
fear the Israelites, so did all Egyptians.
Slavery
wasn't slowing the Hebrews down, so the pharaoh decided to try another course
of action. He summoned two midwives who
helped with the labor and delivery by the Hebrew women, Shiphrah and Puah. If I were to mention these two names
randomly, outside of the context of these verses, you might ask yourself,
"Shiphrah and Puah who?" However
these two names, these two women were well known by my fellow seminarians and
I. They made for a great trivia
question.
What
were the names of the two midwives in Exodus?
Puah and Shiphrah!
Other
students talked about naming pets after them.
Some joked, at least I hope they were joking, about naming their
children after them. Wouldn’t they be
great names for twin girls?! I think a
couple of students dressed up as them for a Halloween party. Yet outside of a specialized community like a
seminary, these two women, Shiphrah and Puah, aren't well known. But what they did set in motion an
extraordinary course of events.
The
pharaoh summoned them because he had orders for them. When they were attending to a Hebrew woman in
labor, they were to kill all newborn boys.
The infant girls could live, but kill the baby boys. But Puah and Shiphrah feared God more than
they feared Pharaoh. They wouldn't kill
innocent babies. So they did something
that tends to be overlooked and forgotten in the larger scheme of the
Exodus. They lied. They lied to the king of Egypt. They lied to a ruler who didn't just believe
he was the monarch of a nation; he believed he was god on earth. And the lie they told the pharaoh was fantastic! Basically they told the man who ruled everyone
and everything that the Hebrew women delivered their babies so fast and so
easily, so "vigorously," the midwives couldn't get to them in
time. Egyptian women might deliver their
children slowly, and with a certain amount of decorum, but babies born of
Hebrew women were like cars shooting out of the final turn in a log ride. They just came on their own!
This
lie told by these remarkably brave women begins the events that led to the
birth of Moses; to his ride down the Nile in a basket, which in Hebrew is the
same word for "ark;" to his being saved by the Pharaoh's own daughter;
to a burning bush and the call of the great I Am; to a hard-hearted ruler and a
series of ever-worsening plagues; to the parting of a sea; to the wilderness,
to the promised land.
In
a commentary he wrote about this passage a few years ago, David Lose refers to
a book by Andy Andrews called The
Butterfly Effect. Essentially, this
effect is the idea that small actions can ripple out into big change. Lose offers an example about Norman Borlaug from
this book. Norman Borlaug developed high-yield,
disease resistant corn and wheat. That
hybrid corn and wheat saved millions of people from famine. But Borlaug ran an office in New Mexico
created by former vice-president Henry Wallace.
Wallace created this particular office for the development of seeds that
would grow in arid climates. Wallace was
mentored by George Washington Carver, who loved flora and fauna and instilled
that love in Henry. George Washington
Carver was an orphan who was adopted by Moses and Susan Carver. And so on.
And so on.
This
is the butterfly effect. Borlaug was
able to do the really big thing that he did, creating hybrid seeds that saved the
lives of millions of people, because of smaller actions, smaller choices made
by other people.
Who
knows how many baby boys were saved because of Puah and Shiphrah? We can’t know the answer to that
question. But we do know about one
little guy their actions saved.
Moses. He was rescued twice. First, by Puah and Shiphrah, then by
Pharaoh's daughter. One child spared,
one child rescued, grows up to rescue a nation.
Perhaps what we take from this story, from
these two little known and often forgotten women, is that small, seemingly
inconsequential actions can effect dramatic change. It is the butterfly effect. What was true for Puah and Shiphrah is true
for us. We can't predict how one small
action on our part can set the gears in motion for a much larger change.
In
his commentary, David Lose made the point that the world is changed by ordinary
people one small act at a time. It seems
to me that this means that every single one of us has the power, the
capability, the wherewithal to effect change.
Every. Single. One.
What we might think of as little more than a small gesture of kindness
or compassion could initiate the butterfly effect that leads to a larger change.
In
the midst of all the bad and sad news we've been hearing and reading lately,
there has been a piece of good news. For
two days the customers at a Starbucks in Florida paid for the people in the
drive through lane behind them. One
person randomly decided to pay for the latte of the next person in line, then
that person did the same, then the next person, and so on. For two days!
Approximately 700 people! Sure,
we can write it off as merely buying a cup of coffee for a stranger. But we don't know the stories of the people
who received that coffee. We don't know
their circumstances. We don't know what
one of them might have really received in that small gesture of kindness. Perhaps there was a rekindling of hope and
trust in the good will of other humans.
To paraphrase one of my least favorite campfire songs, maybe that
rekindling will lead to a larger spark, and that spark will ignite a flame, and
so on and so on. We just don't
know.
But
what I do know is that there is no act of kindness, compassion, or generosity
too small that God cannot work through it to do great and wonderful
things. Puah and Shiphrah were just
ordinary women. They weren't famous as
Joseph once was. For most folks their
names are followed by "who?"
Yet their faithfulness, their willingness to do what some might consider
small acts led to something great.
What
supposedly small acts have you done?
What gestures have you made? Who
have you touched with a word or inspired by example? Maybe what you think of as small or ordinary
or inconsequential could lead to something much bigger? Maybe a hundred years from now, all of our
names might be followed by “who?” But
even if our names are forgotten, our actions won’t be. When we act faithfully, even in the smallest
of ways, big change can result. So keep
doing those small things, and let us trust that through them God has done and
will do the big things. Let all of God’s
children say, “Alleluia!” Amen.
Love this! BTW, my daughter's Hebrew name is Shiphrah! Glad to have gotten to know you at the picnic. :)
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