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Pharaoh Used Babies as Spies Against Hebrew Mothers

Egyptian women carried their own infants into Hebrew houses. A hidden baby heard another child and cried back from the floor.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. Egyptian Infants Called to the Hidden Boys
  2. The Midwives Would Not Kill
  3. The Field Took the Children and Fed Them
  4. The Spies Measured Themselves as Grasshoppers
  5. God Objected to the Second Half of the Sentence
Pharaoh Used Babies as Spies Against Hebrew Mothers Click for full size

Egyptian Infants Called to the Hidden Boys

Pharaoh's bailiffs had already gone house to house, and still Hebrew boys were being born. He feared the numbers. Officials at the door could be lied to. A crying infant could not.

Egyptian women, each holding a nursing child of her own, came calling on Hebrew households with neighborly faces. They sat down. They talked. The visiting baby cooed, or cried, and any Hebrew infant hidden under a pile of cloth or beneath a floorboard heard another child and answered. A mother's hand clamped over a mouth could not always muffle the answer in time. Then the Egyptian women took the Hebrew child away.

Soldiers a household can hide from. A baby cannot be threatened into silence.

The Midwives Would Not Kill

Behind the visits was an older order. Pharaoh had ruled that Hebrew women employ none but Egyptian midwives, who were to learn the hour of delivery and let no male child escape alive. If parents evaded the command and kept a newborn boy in secret, they and all belonging to them were to be killed.

Shiphrah and Puah refused. They feared God more than they feared Pharaoh. When they stood before him they told him Hebrew women were not like Egyptian women. They gave birth before the midwife arrived. Before he could challenge them, they were gone.

Shiphrah beautified the infant, smoothing the newborn's skin. Puah murmured and cooed until the blue baby breathed. From outside the door it could look like incompetence. Inside the room it was a refusal.

The Field Took the Children and Fed Them

Some women still went out to the field when their time arrived, gave birth, left the child, and walked home. God, who had sworn to the ancestors to multiply them, sent an angel to wash the babes, anoint them, stretch their limbs, and wrap them. Then he gave them two smooth pebbles. From one they sucked milk. From the other, honey. God caused the hair of the infants to grow down to their knees and serve them as a garment, and then He ordered the earth to receive them.

The ground held them until they grew. Then it opened its mouth and vomited forth the children, and they sprouted up like the herb of the field. Each returned to his father's house.

Pharaoh watched the numbers and understood the scheme was not working. He escalated. Drown them in the river. Now the machinery was in the open.

The Spies Measured Themselves as Grasshoppers

Generations later, twelve men stood at the edge of Canaan and looked at the people inside it. They had walked out of Egypt. They had watched the sea split. They had eaten bread from the sky. None of it was enough when they looked at the Anakim, the giant clans, and felt in their stomachs something old.

Caleb's voice did not turn them. The spies went further. "We be not able to go up against the people, for they are stronger than we, they are so strong that even God cannot get at them. The land eats its inhabitants through disease. All the people we saw in it are men of wicked traits."

"And here we saw men upon sight of whom we almost swooned in fright, the giants, the sons of Anak. We were in our own sight as grasshoppers, and so we were in their sight."

God Objected to the Second Half of the Sentence

God answered the last words. "I have no objection to your saying, We were in our own sight as grasshoppers. I take it amiss if you say, And so we were in their sight. How can you tell how I made you appear in their sight? How do you know if you did not appear to them to be angels?"

They had decided in advance what the giants saw. They had handed the enemy a verdict the enemy had not spoken. Pharaoh had once used a baby's cry to make hidden children betray themselves. The spies, standing at the border with forty years of miracles behind them, betrayed themselves with a sentence about their own size.

Fear of Hebrew babies had been Pharaoh's. Fear of giants was the spies'. The second fear chose a measurement God had not given. The grasshopper was not in the land. It was in the report.


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The texts behind this telling. Some cards carry a translation of the source; others are our own retelling of it, and each card says which. Every card links out to the original.

Legends of the Jews 4:32Legends of the Jews

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Legends of the Jews by Louis Ginzberg (1909) · Public Domain

Legends of the Jews turns to Pharaoh's Cunning Steps to Ensure No Hebrew Boy Survived.

Think about Pharaoh. He wasn't just content with enslaving the Israelites; he wanted to erase their future. And how did he try to do it? Through infanticide, of course. But it wasn't as simple as sending soldiers to snatch babies from their mothers' arms. Oh no, this was far more cunning.

Pharaoh, according to Legends of the Jews, took very specific steps to make sure his cruel decree was carried out. He dispatched his officials, his bailiffs, right into the homes of the Israelites. Their mission? To sniff out any newborn children, no matter how well hidden.

Here's where it gets truly chilling. The Egyptians, fearing that the Hebrew mothers would outsmart them and keep their babies under wraps, concocted a truly devilish scheme.

Imagine this: Egyptian women, holding their own infants, would visit the homes of Israelite women suspected of harboring newborns. It was an act of communal invasion disguised as a friendly visit.

What was the purpose of this insidious visit?

Here's the truly nasty part. The Egyptian babies, as babies do, would inevitably start to cry or gurgle. And the Egyptians knew that hidden Hebrew infants, hearing these sounds, would instinctively respond, joining in the chorus of baby noises. Just like that, the hidden children would betray their presence.

Can you picture the scene? The hushed fear in the room, the desperate attempts of the mothers to silence their little ones, the triumphant gleam in the eyes of the Egyptian women. It's a moment of intimate terror, a violation of the most sacred bond between mother and child.

And then, the inevitable: the Egyptians would seize the exposed children and carry them away.

This wasn't just about population control; it was about psychological warfare. It was about instilling fear and distrust within the Israelite community, turning neighbor against neighbor. It was a strategy designed to break their spirit, to make them complicit in their own destruction. And how far would he go to see them through?

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Legends of the Jews 4:34Legends of the Jews

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Legends of the Jews by Louis Ginzberg (1909) · Public Domain

The familiar version gives us the big picture – the enslavement, the plagues, the Exodus. But what about the countless untold stories of courage, faith, and divine intervention that kept hope alive in the darkest of times?

One particularly harrowing detail, according to Ginzberg in Legends of the Jews, involves Pharaoh's attempt to control the Israelite population at its source. He commanded that only Egyptian midwives attend to the Israelite women. These midwives were tasked with a horrifying mission: to ensure that no male child survived birth. They were to gather precise information about delivery times and to be utterly vigilant in their deadly work. The penalty for disobedience was severe: any family caught concealing a newborn boy, along with all their kin, would face death.

The fear? It’s no surprise that many Hebrew men, overwhelmed by this decree, chose to distance themselves from their wives. But Ginzberg also tells us that those who maintained their faith in God were not abandoned. These brave couples continued to live as husband and wife, trusting in a power greater than Pharaoh’s.

The stories get even more incredible. When the time came for these women to give birth, they would venture into the fields. There, they would deliver their babies and, incredibly, leave them. But remember, this is a story steeped in faith and divine intervention.

The Lord, who had promised their ancestors to multiply their descendants, sent an angel to care for these vulnerable newborns. This angel would wash and anoint the babies, stretch their tiny limbs, and swaddle them. The angel even provided sustenance, giving them two smooth pebbles. From one pebble, they miraculously sucked milk, and from the other, honey.

And it gets even wilder. God caused the infants' hair to grow down to their knees, forming a protective garment. Then, the earth itself would open up and receive the babes, sheltering them until they were old enough to emerge. According to Ginzberg’s retelling, the earth would then "vomit forth" the children, and they would spring up like wildflowers in a field, growing strong and healthy. Eventually, each child would return to their family and the house of their father.

A world where the earth protects the innocent, where angels provide sustenance, and where even hair becomes a shield against harm.

What are we to make of such a story? Is it literal history? Perhaps not in the strictest sense. But it speaks to a profound truth about the resilience of the human spirit, the power of faith, and the enduring promise of divine protection. Maybe, just maybe, even in the darkest of times, miracles are possible.

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Legends of the Jews 4:106Legends of the Jews

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Legends of the Jews by Louis Ginzberg (1909) · Public Domain

It’s a universal feeling, that sense of being overwhelmed. But what if that feeling warped your perception of reality itself? That's precisely what happened in the story of the spies sent to scout the Land of Canaan.

After the Exodus from Egypt, Moses dispatched twelve spies, one from each tribe, to explore the land promised to them by God. They were supposed to bring back a scouting report – the lay of the land, the strength of the inhabitants, the quality of the fruit. A chance to prepare for what lay ahead.

What they brought back was fear.

Only two of the spies, Joshua and Caleb, offered a hopeful perspective, urging the people to trust in God and seize the opportunity. The others? They painted a terrifying picture, exaggerating the strength of the Canaanites and their own weakness. Caleb, bless his heart, tried to rally the people with his strong voice, but it was drowned out by the chorus of fear.

The other spies didn’t just say the Canaanites were strong. Oh no, they went much further. As we read in Legends of the Jews, they claimed, "We be not able to go up against the people; for they are stronger than we, they are so strong that even God can not get at them." (Ginzberg). They were so consumed by fear that they questioned God's own power!

And the embellishments kept coming. "The land through which we had gone to search it is a land that eateth up the inhabitants thereof through disease; and all the people that we saw in it are men of wicked traits," they claimed. It's worth remembering that this account, as told in Legends of the Jews by Ginzberg, builds upon the Biblical narrative itself. It is an interpretation and expansion of the story as it appears in the Book of Numbers.

They went on: "And there we saw giants, the sons of Anak, which come of giants: and we were in our own sight as grasshoppers, and so we were in their sight." This, it turns out, was the straw that broke the camel's back.

These spies, paralyzed by their own fear, assumed they knew how the Canaanites perceived them. They saw themselves as insignificant, and so they projected that insignificance onto the enemy.

And God? Well, God took issue with that. "I have no objection to your saying, 'We were in our own sight as grasshoppers,' but I take it amiss if you say, 'And so we were in their sight,' for how can you tell how I made you appear in their sight? How do you know if you did not appear to them to be angels?"

The Zohar, the foundational text of Jewish mysticism, offers rich interpretations of biblical stories like this one. While the Zohar itself doesn't specifically comment on this passage, its emphasis on the power of perception and the divine presence in all things casts a new light on this story.

That our perception of ourselves can warp our reality. That fear can blind us to the truth. And that maybe, just maybe, we are stronger and more capable than we think we are. It's a lesson that echoes through the ages, reminding us to question our fears and to trust in something bigger than ourselves. How often do we limit ourselves, not because of external obstacles, but because of our own internal narratives?

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