When Righteousness Requires Rebellion

by Kerri Fisher

I am the kind of person who likes rules. I arrived in the world this way—sprang forth from the womb directing and correcting—immediately and intensely confused by people less inclined to stay in line.

I once thought this was just a lucky disposition toward righteousness because, like so many people, I was led to believe obedience and holiness were near, if not perfect, synonyms.

There were rare exceptions (usually the smuggling of Bibles or missionaries into non-consenting countries) when civil disobedience was hailed as a virtue by pastoral types in my young life. But in general, the presumption was that law-breaking, resistance and protestation were actions reserved for the disenfranchised and, worse, the distasteful.

It does not surprise me, then, how many of my students initially conflate what is legal with what is ethical. Not all of them, of course. 

There are always a few students better built for bucking systems. In such cases, it is my responsibility to remind them that being radical is no more universally just than being rule-bound.

But for the ones like me who have a natural (or socialized) inclination to trust institutions (and instructions) without reservation, my job is to help them understand that, on some occasions, we should and must be willing to disobey.

I have been thinking a lot about Shiprah and Puah lately, the midwives in Exodus. They were given orders from the highest authority to turn the birthing stool into an execution device, but they refused. 

When he asked them why, they lied to Pharaoh, using his own ignorance and prejudice against him: “The Hebrew women are not like the Egyptian women, they are vigorous” (sometimes translated as “beastly”) “and there is not enough time for us to get to them.”

I used to think that the midwives lied strictly out of self-protection after being caught in their defiance. Perhaps this was my interpretation because we tend to project our own motivations onto the characters in sacred stories.

But I don’t read the story that way anymore. I am doubtful that Shiprah and Puah’s motivations were merely self-protective because the text does not say the women feared Pharaoh. It said they feared God.

It was for heaven’s sake they did what was required to enable them to keep disobeying as long as necessary. They understood, in some circumstances, breaking the rules of the people in power is the only way to embody the rule of God. But this holy impulse takes courage—a virtue that ethicists suggest sits between the more extreme but less compassionate paths of cowardice and recklessness.

I think we might be in a midwife moment here. This worries me because so many of us, even those who claim to have great faith, are perilously low on midwife moxie, and I do not exclude myself from this evaluation.

Virtuous living is rarely as simple as following the rules or as easy as breaking them. Courage requires awareness, action, and, yes, danger. But that can feel like a new proposition for those of us who were taught compliance is all that would be required of us.

I like rules, but if I am honest, rules have not always liked me back. They certainly have not protected and provided for the people I love most in the ways I thought they should. And, if I understand correctly, part of my faith is caring for even the people who I do not love most—but who are in the most need.

So, I think it’s time for those of us interested in virtuous living to acknowledge and accept that real righteousness will, at times, require real rebellion. 

To view the original article written by Kerri Fisher, click here.