In 2019, tennis player Sam Querry defeated Andy Murray to advance to a semi-final in a grand slam tennis match. Afterward, Murray was at a press conference, and a reporter started a question by mentioning that Sam Querry (who defeated Murray) was the first American player to reach the semi-final of a Grand Slam match since 2009.
Murray interrupted the reporter and said: “male player.”
The reporter said, "I beg your pardon?"
And Murray said: "Male player, right?"
Because actually, Serena and Venus Williams, Madison Keys and Coco Vandeweghe had all made it to a semi-final of a Grand Slam match since 2009. But the reporter overlooked them, because they were women.
The reporter laughed; he may have been embarrassed by his mistake, or maybe he was annoyed, I’m not sure; but he replied, “Yes, male player, that’s for sure.”
Many years after the time of Joseph and his brothers, there was a new king (a new Pharaoh) in Egypt, who trembled with fear at the growing number of Hebrews. He made them into slaves and imposed harsh tasks on them, but still they grew in strength and in numbers.
So then he decided to have all the boys born to the Hebrews killed. Why only the boys? Because apparently, he—like that tennis reporter—overlooked the potential power and strength and capabilities of females. He did not see them as a threat.
In fact, he believed he could use the female midwives to help him carry out his plan. He said to the midwives: “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.”
That plan, itself, showed his blindness when it comes to female power. “Kill the boys, but don’t worry about the girls. They aren’t a threat.”
Girls weren’t a threat. Women weren’t a threat. This thinking led the king to underestimate the faith and the resolve of these midwives, Shiphrah and Puah. Yet these two women set the stage for liberation. Their power—their overlooked agency—would be Pharaoh’s undoing.
Now, it seems to me that we don’t talk about Shiphrah and Puah much. I don’t remember hearing or reading their story in church or Sunday school when I was a kid. I don’t remember studying them in seminary.
And the lectionary seems intent on moving past their story as quickly as possible.
The Old Testament lectionary reading for today, the thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost, is actually much longer than what we heard this morning. It extends well into chapter two, and includes the episode in which Moses is born and placed in a basket and sent drifting down the Nile, and is then found, rescued, and adopted by Pharaoh’s daughter.
This takes the focus off of these two midwives, doesn’t it? If the midwives, and the birth of Moses, are presented together, a preacher is—more often than not—going to focus on Moses.
And, once again, Shiphrah and Puah get overlooked. Even today, they are overlooked. Their faith, their accomplishments, their boldness—overlooked.
We tend to overlook the incredibly significant role of Shiphrah and Puah, just like we overlook Hagar, just like we overlook Miriam, just like we overlook Deborah, just like we overlook Mary Magdalene and Tabitha and the other female disciples, just like we overlook Junia the female apostle mentioned by Paul.
Like so many women, Shiphrah and Puah are overlooked. Like so many immigrants, Shiphrah and Puah are overlooked.
It must be because we aren’t paying attention, because in the Bible—in the kingdom of God—those who are overlooked by society catch God’s attention. They are given important roles, key roles, by God. Those who are considered weak or insignificant are used by God to bring about change. Those who are often told to keep quiet, God gives them a word to speak, a message to preach.
Will we listen? Will we see their faith? Will we tell their stories? Will we heed their call to justice? Will we follow their example? Will we honor their bold leadership?
Sometimes, we do!
At the Disciples of Christ General Assembly last month, our General Minister and President, Terri Hord Owens, was elected to a second six-year term. I was at the General Assembly six years ago, when she was elected to her first term.
Like every item that comes to the Assembly for a vote, people are invited to speak in favor, or against, that particular motion.
I remember that William Barber made his way to the green microphone to speak in favor. When it was his turn, he mentioned Sharon Watkins, our previous General Minister, who served our church in that capacity for twelve years, and who was the first woman to lead any major denomination.
William Barber compared Sharon Watkins and Terri Hord Owens to Shiphrah and Puah, the two midwives of great faith, who brought life to their people, and gave them strength and power.
And I have been incredibly grateful for the leadership of these two women. Over the past six years, Terri Hord Owens in particular has repeatedly called upon our church to be who we say we are. We say we are a pro-reconciliation, anti-racism church, so let’s act boldly for racial justice and equality. We say we are a denomination that gathers around an open table, so let’s be bold in the invitation and welcome and hospitality we offer.
Terri Hord Owens is always calling us to boldly be who we say we are, and in so many other ways, she demonstrates how she is just the person God has called to lead our denomination in this time.
It was a bold thing that Shiphrah and Puah did, defying Pharaoh. It was a bold act of resistance in the face of an oppressive ruler.
And their bold action not only made it possible for Moses to be born, but also probably inspired Moses’ mother, Jochebed (that’s the name tradition has given her). Their bold resistance inspired Jochebed to boldly resist Pharaoh herself, by keeping her baby hidden, and then placing him in that basket and sending him down the Nile in the hopes that he may live, despite what Pharaoh had decreed.
When we pay attention to the stories of bold resistors like Shiphrah and Puah, it helps us to notice other bold resisters; other often overlooked people whose faith, whose values, led them to act boldly in their own time and place. People who are overlooked or dismissed because of their gender, or their age, or their country of origin, or their family background.
I recently read about Rigoberta Menchú. Her name is a name I’ve heard before, but I’ve never really taken the time to learn much about her, to learn who she was or what she did. Some of you may know more about her than I do.
But I don’t want to overlook her anymore.
Rigoberta Menchú was born in 1964 to a poor Indigenous family in Guatemala. Her mother (as it turns out) was a midwife, until she was murdered at age 43.
Throughout Guatemala’s civil war, Rigoberta Menchú advocated for and publicized the rights of Indigenous people in Guatemala, and spoke out against the Guatemalan government, which was seeking to exterminate her people. Later, inspired by her Catholic faith, she spoke out on the rights of Indigenous people all around the world.
In 1992, She was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. She also ran for president of Guatemala twice, and even though she was defeated both times, her efforts led to the founding of the country’s first Indigenous political party.
I’m sure she was dismissed and overlooked by many people, for many reasons, but that does not diminish her power, her message, her witness to the world.
The story of Shiphrah and Puah also makes me think of Greta Thunberg, the Swedish climate activist. Now 20, she began publicly protesting on behalf of the climate five years ago, when she was 15.
Many dismissed her for a variety of reasons, including her age, and her blunt way of speaking the truth. But it is truth that she speaks, and her bold resistance to the complacency of so many in the face of climate change is indeed reminiscent of the bold midwives in our Bible story.
Through her, through Rigoberta Menchú, and through so many others, I hear the voices and the example of Shiphrah and Puah reaching out to us today.
…And just like Andy Murray called out that reporter, I hear Shiphrah and Puah calling us out every time we overlook someone because they are female, or because they are an immigrant, or because they aren’t the type of person we assume knows what they are talking about…
I hear Shiphrah and Puah calling us out anytime we think justice is for some, but not for all; anytime we think the rules apply to some, while others get a pass.
I hear Shiphrah and Puah calling us out anytime we act in ways that do not nurture life; anytime we act in ways of death; anytime we contribute to the world’s brokenness rather than working for the world’s healing.
I hear Shiphrah and Puah calling us out anytime we practice a timid faith, a faith that is complacent, instead of the bold, life-giving, world-changing faith God calls us to.
Our world today needs Shiphrah and Puah. Our world needs the bold witness of those who are often overlooked, yet are willing to live as their faith commands them to live.
Modern-day pharaohs have a lot of power these days, and a lot of fear, and they use their power to stoke fear in others, so that they can wage their wars of oppression.
They preach a gospel of death. They call climate change a hoax, because they themselves profit off of destroying the climate. They stomp on the rights of others, and even seek to eliminate those who frighten them. They are the governments who continue to go after the rights and lives of indigenous people, queer people, and many others.
But in every nation, in every community, in every house of worship, God has placed a Shiphrah and a Puah, to resist oppression and nurture life.
We’ve heard the voice of Pharaoh, loud and clear. We’ve heard the voices of powerful people who want to use their power to expand opportunities for themselves by denying opportunities to others. We’ve heard the voices of those who tremble in fear anytime anyone other than themselves gains a little bit of power in the world. From colonial world leaders to union-busting CEOs, their voices are broadcast and amplified throughout the world.
But I want to hear the voices of Shiphrah and Puah. I want to hear their bold words of life, liberty, and justice. I want to witness their bold, courageous action, inspired by their faith. I want to live boldly, as they did, and allow God to use me, and our church, to bring life to the world.
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