Shemot - OMG (Oh My Gut!)
In a world of noise, we must tune in to our inner truth.
This week’s Torah portion recounts the story of the courageous midwives in Egypt. Pharaoh commanded them to kill all the Jewish baby boys, but they dared to defy his decree. There is a fascinating debate among commentators about the identity of these midwives: were they Jewish—Miriam and Yocheved—or Egyptian? They are described as being God-fearing. Rosh Yeshiva, Rav Yaakov Weinberg zt”l, posed an intriguing question about that characterization. If the midwives were Jewish, it’s clear why they would fear God and act morally. But if they were Egyptian, what compelled them to fear God?
He connected this conundrum to a similar question regarding Amalek. The Torah declares that Amalek “did not fear God,” but there is a disagreement in Chazal about whether this refers to Amalek themselves, or to Jews who lost their fear of God due to the bad influence of Amalek. However, if the phrase does refer to Amalek, what would be the reason for expecting them to fear God at all?
Rav Weinberg explained that the term Elohim—used in both of these cases—refers not to the unique covenantal God of the Jewish people but to the universal Creator, whose moral order governs the world. To fear Elohim is to accept that God’s basic moral principles must apply to all humanity, for example, the inherent evil of intentionally murdering innocent newborn babies. This acknowledgment links the stories of the midwives and Amalek, and it highlights that morality, at its core, transcends the boundaries of nations and religions.
Rav Noach Weinberg zt”l used to say there’s a significant difference between Jewish and non-Jewish bedtime stories. A classic non-Jewish tale, like Little Red Riding Hood, follows a young girl who is deceived by a wolf disguised as her grandmother. He ultimately devours her, and so the blatant message is one of danger and suspicion. It teaches children a harsh lesson: you can’t trust your impressions of anyone, not even your own grandmother.
Contrast that with a Jewish bedtime story: When you were in your mother’s womb, an angel came and taught you all of the Torah. Right before you were born, the angel tapped you on the lip—creating that little cleft above your mouth—and you forgot everything. What’s the primary lesson?
That deep down, you already know the truth. Life is not about discovering what’s right; it’s about restoring your memory of it.
Immediately after absorbing that lesson, the child also realizes that non-Jews have that little cleft too! Because every human being, no matter where they are born, carries an innate awareness of fundamental moral truths.
Maybe that’s why the gut is called gut—a word that sounds like God in Yiddish and German. Because the voice of God, the voice of truth, is inside all of us. The question is whether we are willing to listen. Are we up to the challenge of blocking out all the internal distractions, such as our knee-jerk, and emotional reactions, and guiding our perceptions with intelligence and logic?
This imperative is as relevant today as ever. The midwives in this week’s parsha stood up for what was right—not because of a commandment, but because they feared Elohim, the universal God of morality. In a world filled with conflicting voices, we, too, must learn to tune in to the inner voice of truth that is always there, waiting to be heard.
May we draw strength from those who act with integrity, and may we all be guided by the inner clarity that leads to justice, peace, and righteousness.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Eliezer Hirsch