by Rabbi Avi Billet
Having recently started teaching classes on the Book of Shmuel, the opening chapter is very much on my mind. One of the themes which comes out in that chapter (which is also the Haftorah of the first day of Rosh Hashana) is the conflict between Elkanah’s co-wives, Chana and Peninah, over Chana’s lack of children, versus Peninah’s abundance of children.
In all honesty, the whole tale is sad to analyze because from one perspective it seems so petty. From another perspective there seems to be nastiness. And from what is arguably the Rosh Hashana perspective, there is pain, anguish, hope, and ultimately personal redemption.
One wonders what Chana had in mind when she married Elkanah. Was she planning to be the only wife? Did Elkanah marry her first or second? Did she anticipate having a large family – many children?
The inspiration that comes to us from her story, from her pain and almost despair, is that she lets Hashem carry her. She clearly has a very personal relationship with Hashem. She speaks to Him – we only hear one sentence of her initial prayer, but the verse indicates that her prayer went on and on. What does it mean to pray to the Almighty without repose? Are we even able to pray using our own words? We are so conditioned to using a Siddur, perhaps many of us would be unable to come up with our own words in any manner that would seem adequate and coherent before God.
Chana’s youthful plans, hopes and dreams are unknown to us. But we can certainly venture to guess that things did not seem to be working out for her by the time we are introduced to her in Shmuel I chapter 1. Similarly, we can equally surmise that with all the “fruitfulness, teeming, increasing, becoming very strong and filling the land” (ala Shemos 1:7) Bnei Yisrael had plans for their existence in Egypt which unexpectedly came to a halt with the arrival of the new king (1:8).
How do we deal with situations that don’t go our way?
One can only imagine Shifra and Puah – there is plenty of debate among the commentaries
whether they were Egyptians or Israelites, whether these were their real names or pseudonyms – as midwives, what was their drive? What kept them going? Presumably, the desire to participate in bringing life into this world, as much and as often as possible.
There is something miraculous about seeing a child through the birth process. There is something miraculous about experiencing the newness of human life – the way the fetus grows and develops, and the miracle of how it is born. All of these things must fascinate the midwife. And much much more.
So, for them to hear Pharaoh’s order that they had to kill babies? Rabbi J.H. Hertz argued against their being Hebrew slaves: “It is hardly probable that the king would have expected Hebrew women to slay the children of their own people.”
These women were God-fearing, and they opted to choose life for “their babies,” to not succumb to an immoral king hell-bent on infanticide for his own paranoid and tyrannical reasons.
B’chor Shor argues they were rewarded with wealth, honor, and fertility. The Midrash notes they were rewarded with the houses of Kingship, Priesthood, and Levi families. Ironically though, many commentaries are of the view that “And he made them houses” (1:21) refers to Pharaoh who placed new Egyptian homes in between Israelites homes so they would hear when babies would be born to the Hebrews, so they could report KGB-style to the authorities. Another view is that the midwives were imprisoned – “house arrest.”
Which one is it?
The challenge of delving through commentaries is that we don’t know which is “the truth.” Our job is to learn lessons from all of the teachings and apply them as best as possible to our experience.
No matter what happened, the midwives continued to do what midwives do – support the mother, protect the baby. If other Egyptians came to throw the baby in the river, that was not the doing of the midwives, no matter who they were.
And what of the Israelites? Their plans to live peacefully, to grow their families, their community, their nation, etc. was challenged. We know the story of how baby Moshe survived. Was he the only one who managed to survive, or were there other creative mothers and protectors of babies who met with similar success in saving their children? We don’t know. I like to think there were others – we just don’t hear of them, because those babies did not become Moshe Rabbenu.
Every generation likely has the opportunity to say “we live in challenging times.” Perhaps these past 10 months have brought our “challenging time” to a different level. But there are still people suffering infertility, like Chana, and there are still women who face all kinds of challenges to their pregnancy – though hopefully none need to worry about Pharaoh’s orders to have their baby thrown into the Nile.
One interpretation of Shifra and Puah is that their names’ meanings simply describe how they related to and cared for the baby and the mother.
And that, perhaps more than anything, is the takeaway lesson from this awareness Shabbat.
(see
jewishpregnancyhelp.org) At the end of his thank you speech when he was roasted by his fellow celebrities, under the hostmanship of Dean Martin, Don Rickles gave a blessing to everyone present – as he acknowledged his unique voice and contribution to comedy and his gratitude that people understood his humor, especially through his early days when he was trying to make it, and struggled, as many do at the beginning of their careers – “To all of you, I wish you what I have… people around you, who care.”
When we are going through difficult times – any difficult times – if we can find the strength to reach out to our friends, we will likely often find “People who care,” who want to help in whatever way they can.
May we be blessed, like Chana was, to have Hashem hear our prayers. And may all those who need help find their Shifras and Puahs – professionals in the line of work where the need is great, who are, most importantly, people who can help because they are “people who care.”
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