The Fear of God

January 8, 2010
Rabbi Seymour Rossel

     The first new characters we meet by name in the Book of Exodus are Shifra and Puah, "Hebrew midwives" or "midwives to the Hebrews." From ancient times on, modesty forbade males, even physicians, from being present at the birth of children. Midwifery was a woman's profession.

     It is remarkable that the Torah fails to record the name of the Pharaoh or any of his officials even though the names of two lowly midwives are carefully preserved. And both names are Semitic in origin.

     Commentators usually note how unlikely it is that two midwives tended to all the Hebrew women in Egypt. They suggest that these two may have been the chief midwives, or that the two names may designate guilds, two "schools" or "disciplines" of midwifery.

     The king of Egypt gave explicit instructions to Shifra and Puah, saying, "When you deliver the Hebrew women, look at the two stones: if it is a boy, kill him; if it is a girl, let her live." Two stones, set slightly apart, were used as a birthing stool. Women crouched on and over the stones to ease the birthing process. Babies were literally born "between the stones," so Pharaoh was precise in telling the midwives to "look at the two stones" to determine if a newborn was a boy or a girl.

     But Pharaoh misunderstood the midwives. Although his order was given at least seven hundred years before the Hippocratic Oath was written, the midwives already felt mandated "never to do harm." It was only right and proper that women who were in the business of bringing life into the world would react with horror at the thought of killing infants. Pharaoh's order only placed Shifra and Puah in an untenable position.

     Pharaoh was also mistaken in demanding the death of the first-born sons of the Israelites, for he pit himself directly against God. God had promised Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob that their people would grow as numerous as the stars and as plentiful as sand in the desert. In choosing infanticide as a method for population control, Pharaoh set himself directly up against God.

     As for Shifra and Puah, they "fear God," as it is written: "The midwives, fearing God, did not do as the king of Egypt had told them; they let the boys live." In not obeying Pharaoh, the midwives make a bold statement. The modern Bible scholar, Nachum Sarna, calls this "history's first recorded act of civil disobedience." Theirs was certainly a brave choice. And Pharaoh soon called them to account.

The king of Egypt summoned the midwives and said to them, "Why have you done this thing, letting the boys live?" The midwives said to Pharaoh, "Because the Hebrew women are not like the Egyptian women: they are vigorous. Before the midwife can reach them, they have already given birth."

     This was, at best, a flimsy excuse. No doubt, Pharaoh saw through it at once. But the Torah says that "God dealt well" with the midwives. The Israelites multiplied and increased and, because they feared God, the midwives had "houses" established for them.

     There is conjecture as to what this means. Some ancient commentators thought that the midwives had been barren but now, because they showed more fear of God than of the Pharaoh, God gave them children, thus establishing their houses. Alternatively, the word for "houses," batim, can also mean "prisons" and Sarna suggests that, since the midwives feared God more than Pharaoh, it was Pharaoh who built prisons for them.

     But as the Book of Exodus begins, we should ask why the midwives play such a large role. And the most plausible answer comes from the narrator's effort to place the "fear of God" up against the "fear of the Pharaoh."

     The Torah has no word for what we today call "religion." It is nowhere suggested that the midwives prayed to God or that specific rituals were observed in the birth process. "Fear of God" here implies a moral sensibility. It connotes the ethical understanding that certain actions, certainly murder, are anathema to human beings. The midwives behaved according to their convictions -- instinctively treasuring new life, instinctively rejecting any attempt to destroy it. This behavior is termed, not by the midwives, but by the narrator as the "fear of God."

     The fear of God is not a fear of retribution. The midwives do not worry about any repercussions that would result from obeying Pharaoh. That kind of negative reasoning is not what is meant by "fear of God" as the Bible uses the term.

     In Genesis, Abraham told King Abimelech that Sarah was his sister, later explaining that he did this because he believed there was no "fear of God" among the Canaanites. Obviously, then, "fear of God" is not an exclusively Hebrew concept. It could be looked for and even found among the Canaanites, too. Later, when Joseph wishes his brothers to trust him, though they still see him only as an Egyptian, he assures them that he is a "God-fearing" person.

     The Holiness Code in the Book of Leviticus twice uses the phrase "You shall fear your God" and both times it is in conjunction with simple ethical behaviors -- not putting a stumbling block before the blind and rising to pay deference to the aged. Later, in Deuteronomy, God curses the people of Amalek for the unworthy manner in which they attacked the Israelites from behind, killing the weakest and most defenseless. Even as an enemy, Amalek should have behaved better. They utterly failed to show "fear of God."

     And the Book of Job, speaking of a non-Jew who was beloved to God, states that Job was honest and upright, one who "feared God and shunned evil."

     All in all, "fear of God" in the Bible is close to what we today call "conscience." It is bound up with respect for self and respect for others. Shifra and Puah are exemplars because they asked the right questions, "Could they live with themselves if they committed the murders Pharaoh demanded?" "Could they continue to serve their people if they could not hold their heads high?"

     These are still the questions we need to ask ourselves when no one is around to ask them for us, when we are about to make difficult moral choices. In moments of ethical conflict when two things seem equally right or equally wrong, we need to face our choices with the "fear of God" as a part of our equation. Shall we behave toward others in ways that make it possible to live with ourselves afterward? Shall we find ways to treat others, those we like and those we despise, in ways that leave it possible for us to continue to hold our heads up high?

     If we as moderns tend to rely on our consciences to help us make moral decisions, shall we not place God inside, so that our consciences are not just filled with the "fear of Pharaohs" and the "fear of governments" and the "fear of laws" and the "fear of retribution," but -- like Shifra and Puah -- let our consciences be filled with the "fear of God." And let us say: Amen.