The Torah tells us, "The woman conceived and bore a son; she saw that he was good and she hid him for three months" (Exodus 2:2). But what lies beneath that simple verse? The ancient Rabbis, in their wisdom, found layers of meaning.
Let's start with that first line: "The woman conceived and bore a son." Rabbi Yehuda, in Shemot Rabbah, points out the juxtaposition of conception and birth. He suggests that just as her conception was painless, so too was the birth. From this, we learn something profound: righteous women, like Moses' mother, were exempt from the decree against Eve – the pain of childbirth. A beautiful testament to her piety, right?
And then, "she saw that he was tov" – that he was good. What does tov really mean here? Rabbi Meir, in a fascinating interpretation, says his name was actually Tov, meaning "good." Rabbi Yoshiya offers a similar idea, suggesting his name was Toviya, a variation of the same concept. Rabbi Yehuda has yet another idea: that the baby was fit for prophecy right from birth. Some even say he was born already circumcised! Talk about a promising start.
But the Rabbis offer an even more luminous interpretation. They say that the moment Moses was born, the entire house was filled with light. Sound familiar? It echoes the creation itself. As we find in Genesis 1:4, “God saw the light, that it was good [tov].” The light of creation, the light of Moses’ birth – both described with the same word, tov. A powerful connection, isn't it? It suggests that Moses’ birth was nothing short of a new creation, a beacon of hope for the Israelites.
The verse continues, "She hid him for three months." Why three months? Shemot Rabbah explains that the Egyptians were counting from the moment Moses' parents remarried (after Pharaoh's decree to throw male children into the Nile), but she was already three months pregnant. So, she had a head start, a precious few months to protect her son.
But the time came when “she was no longer able to hide him.” (Exodus 2:3). Why not? What changed? This is where the Midrash gets particularly poignant. The Egyptians, cunning and cruel, devised a terrible plan. They would enter houses where they suspected a baby had been born and bring with them a small Egyptian baby. They would make the Egyptian baby cry, knowing that the Israelite baby would hear and cry along with it, revealing its presence.
This image is captured in the verse from Song of Songs 2:15: "Catch us foxes, little foxes that ruin vineyards…" But Shemot Rabbah offers an alternative reading: "The foxes held little foxes against us in order to ruin the vineyard." The Egyptians, like foxes, used their own "little foxes" – the crying babies – to expose and destroy the Israelite children. The Midrash beautifully compares the Egyptians to foxes, known for their slyness, and Israel to a vineyard, vulnerable and precious.
And so, Moses' mother, in her desperation, takes a fateful step. “She took for him a wicker basket and coated it with clay and with pitch; she placed the child in it and placed it among the reeds on the bank of the Nile” (Exodus 2:3). This is the beginning of Moses' incredible journey, a journey that starts with a mother's love, a hidden light, and a desperate act of faith.
What does this all mean for us today? Perhaps it's a reminder that even in the darkest of times, hope can be found in the most unexpected places – in the birth of a child, in a mother's unwavering love, and in the enduring light of the Divine. And that sometimes, even the smallest among us can become the greatest of leaders.