Yocheved - Heroine of Pesach
Pesach will soon be here and with it the exhortation to relive the events of the exodus at our family Seder. I was raised by a strong mother to look for the hidden stories of women in the Torah and to celebrate them. When we think of of women associated with Shemot (Exodus) we tend to think of Miriam, sister of Moshe (Moses). One of the Tanakh's 7 prophetesses, she plays a key part. But what of her mother without whom neither Miriam nor Moshe would have existed?
Being a mother to 4 children myself, tales like that of Yocheved call out to me. How could they not? Here is a young woman faced with making awful and fateful choices. Egypt, concerned that their slaves did not become powerful and fight back, decided to curtail that population in a cruel and devastating way. Jews were very fecund. How do you halt that? By killing baby males and leaving only females (where have I heard that one before?).
Imagine yourself as Yocheved. You are joyfully pregnant. Having a bump is so wonderful. This is what I'm made for. This is how I serve Hashem. Within you, you carry new life and new hope. There's a royal decree out though that all new baby boys should be drowned at birth. Just boys, not girls. When you're pregnant, you need to be positive and happy, choosing names for your new baby: One for if she's a girl, another for if he's a boy. Only now you are worried if he's a boy, because he's going to die and be cruelly murdered, in front of you. You do what any mother would do; you make plans, feverishly thinking things out. You have a mother's intuition that this is your new baby son and you are going to fight to protect him, hide him. Except you know you can't for long.
You have to give birth in secret. How do you hide a crying little baby? Hush little baby, suck, drink and let me think. Just how long can I carry on hiding you? They're drowning poor little babies in the river right now. What chance do I have? Maybe, just maybe, if I take him down to the river in his basket, people will think I'm about to drown him and leave us be. What if I line the basket so it won't sink? He will float away, I will have to say goodbye to my precious little son then go home and cry; weeping; tearing my clothes; tearing my hair, harming myself. What use is my body, my maternal feelings if I can't dare to get pregnant ever again?
How do you face saying goodbye to the tiny little boy you've just given birth to: saying goodbye to your nine months together. Hearing him cry as he floats away down the Nile?
Your little daughter Miriam watches, hiding in the reeds by the riverside. She's the one who sees him saved from being eaten or drowning; caught in the rushes by the royal palace. She sees what happens as a royal princess, coming down to bathe, hears the baby's cries and takes him to cradle in her arms. She's young and suddenly feels that rush of maternal feelings she has never felt in her life before. He's crying and hungry. He wants milk. She feels those wails as tingling in her own breasts but she has no milk to give. It makes her sad. She so want's to keep him. Much nicer than the dolls she played with as a child: so beautiful, so perfect; those darling eyes. Now here's a little girl, running up to look. "I'm his sister, I know a lady who's just lost her baby who could nurse him for you".
Now imagine being called to the Royal Palace and finding you're being offered a poorly paid job to nurse your own baby for some rich lady who now has him because she hasn't yet had a child herself. She wants something nice to do but she needs your help. She hold him out for you to take. He latches on so easily, sucks greedily as you give him the best gift of life you can. The sacred bond between you and your little boy is restored, even if you can't be acknowledged as his Mum. You gaze down in loving contentment, just happy that he is alive. You watch as his little lips seal around your nipple as he sucks, drawing you into his mouth; greedily at first then slowly as his thirst subsides. You watch the beatific look on his little face as he drifts off into contentment and peaceful sleep.
He will be safe now. He has a mother and a wet nurse. He'll grow up a royal baby; pampered and given the best food when he is weaned. Then sadly you'll lose him to this grand lady and maybe never see him again because you're just a lowly woman and he will be a Prince.
What you don't know and can't see, is what this royal prince of Egypt will become. He'll grow, mature, have crises and doubts but in the end, this is the little baby who will lead your people out from Egypt to better things, leaving a bereft and devastated country behind; plagued by problems, quite literally. This is the baby who will take your people from this narrow place to freedom.
When you sit around your Seder table, don't forget his mother. Don't forget the ordeal and amazing courage this young woman showed. Adonai chose her to conceive, give birth and protect this child who was to become a prophet and leader. She fulfilled her female destiny through pregnancy, morning sickness, the pain of birth and parting from him; the reunion and life giving milk she gave him from her body. This is what she was made for. She made history just by being a mother even if it was under terrible circumstances.
So let's remember all Mums this Pesach 2026. Let's remember their courage, their sacrifices and the love they freely give. Without us Jewish Mums, we would have had no freedom or future.
Jane (Chana bat Shoshana) xx
