Modern demographics claims that childbearing and fertility decline as a society becomes more stable and prosperous. It’s supposedly poor societies that “breed like rabbits” because, despite all the costs children represent, their labor is still essential for families on the edge to survive. The fact that the most affluent countries in the world, including the United States, now experience childbearing decline should not be of concern. It might even be celebrated!
If we read Exodus 1, we might think differently. The opening chapter of the Book of Exodus talks about the reversal of the Hebrews’ fortunes in Egypt. Genesis ended with Joseph reconciled to his brothers, all living happily ever after in a peaceful and prosperous Egypt, where the Hebrews took God’s first blessing and commandment. Exodus says that the Hebrews took seriously what God gave them: “Be fruitful and multiply” (Gen. 1:28). Amid good fortune, “they multiplied greatly and increased in numbers (Exod. 1:7).
When we stop and think about it normally, that makes sense. People ideally want a stable and secure situation within which to raise kids. Modernity tells us it should even be the prerequisite before venturing into parenthood. When something is good, you want to share it.
So why, amid prosperity, are the most affluent countries the most afraid of children?
Experience tells us that, with sinful man, when something is good, you want to hoard it. It brings out selfishness, not generosity. Even before he was elected pope, Karol Wojtyła wrote of the paradox that the loudest protests against what Pope Paul VI taught in Humanae Vitae came from lands “in inverse proportion to their proximity to ‘the hunger belt.’”
So the experience of Joseph’s and his brothers’ descendants stands already in marked contrast to what moderns today would expect.
“Then a new king, to whom Joseph meant nothing, came to power in Egypt” (Exod. 1:8).
With that terse explanation—a new king, a new political configuration, a new dynasty—the Bible explains the reversal of Hebrew fortunes. And it’s here that suspicious selfishness again manifests itself.
The elite of the new political order were convinced that the large Hebrew minority was a threat, a fifth column whose size afforded them the possibility of allying with other nations. “If war breaks out, [they] will join our enemies, fight against us, and leave the country” (Exod. 1:10). Better to get them before they get you, by reducing them to slavery.
That is how Exodus explains how the Hebrews became forced laborers, building cities for Pharaoh (v. 11). And here, paradoxically, the Hebrews again showed their fidelity to God’s blessing and commandment: “The more they were oppressed, the more they multiplied and spread,” instilling “dread” in the Egyptians (v. 12). That behavior tallies with human experience: in the worst of situations, people embrace the most basic of goods, and that includes saying “yes” to life.
The Egyptians then decided to take eugenic matters into their own hands. Royal decree instructed Hebrew midwives to kill newborn males. (Slaves, not being persons, could be abused sexually. Constant male fertility represented a threat of further Hebrew expansion.)
The midwives secretly avoided doing this out of fear of the Lord, who rewarded them with children, for “children are a heritage from the Lord, offspring a reward from him” (Ps. 127:3). At that point, Pharaoh became adamant: if a male child survives birth and is not slain by the midwife, he should be “cast into the Nile” (v. 22). Complicity was expanded: if you see a Hebrew boy, you drown him in the river.
Moses’ mother did not comply, putting him in a basket that led to his discovery by Pharaoh’s daughter and his being raised royally. We should not take this as a fable: all life in Egypt, from Pharaoh on down, revolved around and depended on the Nile. Thus began Moses’ lifelong association with water. His name, in Egyptian and Hebrew, alludes to being drawn out of the waters.
My focus, however, is different. For one, this episode shows that the ancient Hebrews lived the essence of what Pope Paul VI spoke of in Humanae Vitae: “openness to life.” In good times or bad, whether their economic situation was one of weal or woe, the Hebrews welcomed life. They recognized it as a command and as a blessing—which is just what Genesis 1:28 calls it.
For another, their openness to God’s gift of life also revealed their faith in God’s providence. No doubt there were those who thought, if not said, “Hey, things are going well. Why do we need more kids?” Or, “Things are lousy, and another mouth to feed!” In good times or bad, the Hebrew openness to life found in Exodus 1 reveals a trust that God will not harm those who trust in him, his goodness, and his gifts.
That perspective could be illuminating to Christians, even some Catholics, today. It runs counter to the criteria by which modern society weighs and judges things. But it also tells us about some things our world forgets—like the goodness of a child, like piety that recognizes that God, not man, is Lord and giver of life, and like reliance in good times and bad on God’s providence. Consider especially reliance on Providence that recognized that, in the good times, God especially enriched his people by children, like olive branches, around their table (Ps. 128), and, in the bad times, who nevertheless through children ensured that this people would survive. Do we, as the people of God, have the same providential faith?
The Hebrews’ lot was a lot worse than ours when it comes to raising kids. For them, it was a question of running afoul of the law that imposed positive eugenic obligations (kill your kids). For us, it is usually a question of having to give up some material thing. It’s precisely that question—whether a child is assigned a “value” to be measured alongside other “things”—that is the corrupt heart of the contraceptive mentality that Paul VI and John Paul II criticized.
It’s worthwhile rereading Exodus 1 . . . and then looking in the mirror.