The Hebrew Midwives |Shemot 5779

The Hebrew midwives stood outside the large ornate doors. They scarcely turned to look at one another. They had been summoned for an audience with Pharaoh. He had ordered them to oversee the deaths of each Hebrew male born to the daughters of Israel.

The day he commanded them, they each received golden blades meant to spill the blood of their people’s sons. The blades remained spotless. They wore them as a warning to their sisters, but never put their hands to them because as much as they feared Pharaoh, they feared one greater than he.

“El Shaddai will be with us.” the younger midwife said to her mistress, a question lingering in her heart. She knew what they had done was right, but doing right never protected anyone from the wrath of the wicked. Pharaoh would punish the righteous with the wicked.

“Be still, child.” the old woman chided her apprentice. She put her hand to her bosom and whispered an oath to her God.

A stirring from beyond the doors made the guards shift expectantly.

The old woman turned and caught the girl’s eye. She smiled and said, “El Shaddai will be with us.”

The doors opened and the Hebrew midwives entered. Humble women, who refused to yield to the rule of a king. Their eyes were low, but their sights were set on the will of their maker. Pharaoh’s chains could weigh them down, but they knew they were bound to the Most High,  that though they be as dust, He would make their descendants as numerous as the stars. No earthly king could turn back His word and, they walked like lionesses to the throne of Pharaoh.


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