(Reading: Exodus 1:1-2:10)

The name Moses is a play on a Hebrew word that means “to be drawn out of” — in his case, the waters of the Nile. Moses was rescued by Pharaoh’s daughter when he was found floating in a basket on the Nile. Nor will this be Moses’ only association with water. His leading the Hebrews through to freedom through the Red Sea (Exodus 14) and his providing them with water from the rock in the desert (Exodus 17:1-7) should also be kept in mind.

I chose Gustave Doré’s “Finding of Moses” precisely for that reason: its “wateriness.” It is an opaque watercolor illustration. The whole image appears liquid, even those things that should be solid, like Moses, his basket, and the reeds along the river. The angels, as pure spirit, could obviously be transparent though, when usually interacting with humans (rather than “just” guarding them) they appear more substantial. There is very little color in the painting; shading reinforces the appearance of fluidity even while creating the surroundings and some measure of dimensionality, e.g., the horizon or the waves of the water. It’s said to depict the child at night, reinforcing his “vulnerability” and the angels’ protective ministrations.

Doré’s depiction was for an 1866 illustrated Bible, “La Sainte Bible selon la Vulgate.” The drawing is held by New York’s Morgan Library and Museum.

Reading the account of how Moses came to be saved from death and grow up in the court of Pharoah, I could not help but wonder: Does a baby’s survival depend on a woman’s momentary whim?

The question arises in conjunction with Exodus 2, the account of Baby Moses’ discovery by Pharoah’s daughter in a basket on the Nile. To recap: The Book of Exodus starts by explaining the reversal of Hebrew fortunes in Egypt. When Genesis closed, Joseph and his brothers were comfortably ensconced in an Egypt whose elites were prospering amidst regional famine, privileged confidantes of the Pharoah.

Exodus opens by noting the ascent to power of a Pharoah “who did not know Joseph” (1:8). He sees Hebrew growth as a fifth-column replacement population in Egypt, resolving to counteract the threat by reducing them to servitude. Paradoxically, the Hebrews’ faith in God’s Providence was such that, contrary to the usual patterns, adversity did not dampen their fertility, a phenomenon about whose significance I have previously written. Given the continued Hebrew population growth, Pharoah imposes an infanticide regime: newborn Hebrew males are to be killed (Exodus 1:16, 22).

Moses’ mother sought to evade the cruel decree by hiding Baby Moses in a waterproof basket along the Nile shore (though we often imagine the picture of the child in his mini-ark afloat on the river). She dispatches her daughter surreptitiously to track her brother’s fate. The woman is intent at least not to be guilty of the boy’s death by her own hands.

The basket is found by a royal bathing party. The Nile, whose gift Egypt is said to be, did create some quasi-level of “democracy” — every water-needing being, i.e., every man, was dependent on it. The idea, then, that the royals might be at the riverside is not as far-fetched as some contemporaries might perhaps think.

It is clear Pharoah’s daughter is not unaware of Pharoah’s infanticide decree or the child’s origins (Exodus 2:6b). We don’t even need Cecil B. DeMille’s Ten Commandments suggesting the child’s swaddling cloth betrayed his ethnic origins to accept what the Bible clearly says. Pharoah’s daughter knows why the basket is there. She knows that other Hebrew boys were undoubtedly being killed at the same time. But she decided to give a royal waiver in this case.

Human action often varies between theoretical “rules” obligations and the practical case where a concrete decision and action come into play. That’s human — and often good — but it also betrays the sometimes capricious gap between “what we say” and “what we do.”

Considering the arbitrary nature of Pharoah’s daughter’s decision that this Hebrew boy should not die ought to make use consider how America’s current matria potestas operates in similar circumstances.

When ex-Virginia Governor Ralph Northam offered his infamous but clinically accepted explanation about how to proceed with a newborn surviving a late-term abortion. He spoke of making the baby “comfortable” if “resuscitated” as a “discussion” between the mother and physicians as to the child’s fate ensues.

The question that should arise is this: In a post-natal situation where a child has been born  — and thus should indisputably fall under the 14^th Amendment’s protection against deprivation of life — how does a “conversation” about the baby’s fate, in which death is considered a possible outcome, differ from the equally arbitrary decision of Pharoah’s daughter to flout royal decree and save a Hebrew child?

In both instances, does the fate of a distressed child rest on a consistent norm (good or bad) or upon a woman’s arbitrary but life-changing choice, likely driven by momentary feelings?

How do we defend such inconsistent and seemingly arbitrary outcomes — apparently endorsed by 47 members of the United States Senate on Jan. 22, 2025, when they refused to adopt clear and indisputable standards to protect and require independent medical care for that distressed newborn? How did that differ from Pharoah’s daughter’s choice? Are we willing to admit that deaths often serve as cover for lethal discrimination against handicapped newborns?

I am not defending drowning Baby Moses nor abandoning medically distressed newborns. Both outcomes should be self-evidently evil. I am asking why we instinctively seem to recognize that a lethal outcome for Baby Moses in ancient Egypt was wrong but an equally lethal outcome for a modern Baby Moses elicits defenses — or at least handwringing excuses about “it’s complicated?” Because the modern-day focus on a mother’s “choice” or “autonomy” rather than on an across-the-board, equally beneficial outcome for every child is indistinguishable from Baby Moses’ lucky but equally fickle fortune at Pharoah’s daughter’s hands on the banks of the Nile millennia ago.