Let me introduce you to Jochebed, mother of Moses from the first reading. No burning bush, no Red Sea yet. Just a woman, in a time of terror, doing what mothers do best: protecting life in the face of death.
Pharaoh, in all his regal might, had issued a royal decree: every Hebrew baby boy must be drowned in the Nile. And what does Jochebed do? She looks at her newborn son, sees something “special” in him, and let’s be honest, what mother doesn’t think her child is special? But Jochebed’s faith isn’t just sentimental, it’s strategic. She hides him for three months, then weaves a basket, like a tiny ark, places him in it, and lets him go into the very river meant for his death. That’s not fear. That’s Trust
You know what strikes me most? Jochebed never hears a voice from heaven. No angel appears with a five-point plan. She has no assurance this will work. All she has is maternal instinct and mustard-seed faith. And sometimes, that’s more than enough.
The Nile, the symbol of Pharaoh’s power, becomes the vehicle of Moses’ deliverance. How’s that for divine irony? And then comes my favorite twist: Pharaoh’s own daughter picks up the baby. The royal family ends up raising the very child they tried to destroy. And the cherry on top? Miriam, Moses’ sister, steps in and says, “Shall I find someone to nurse the baby?” And Pharaoh’s daughter replies, “Yes.” So Jochebed gets paid - paid! by the palace to raise her own son.
You see what God is doing here? It’s not thunder and lightning, it’s soft hands weaving baskets, daughters watching from the reeds, and a palace unknowingly nurturing a deliverer. And just when you think this is ancient history, let me take you to another woman, centuries later, during one of humanity’s darkest times.
During World War II, in Nazi-occupied Poland, a young Catholic Nurse and social worker named Irena Sendler did something uncannily similar to Jochebed. While the Nazis herded Jews into the Warsaw Ghetto and children were marked for extermination, Irena used her position to smuggle over 2,500 Jewish children out of danger.
She didn’t have power, or armies, or weapons, only courage, a toolbox, and a deep sense of justice. Some children were hidden in suitcases, some in ambulance stretchers, some through underground tunnels. Like Jochebed, she entrusted them into the arms of strangers, hoping the current of history wouldn’t swallow them.
She recorded each child’s real name and family and buried the slips of paper in glass jars under a tree, hoping that one day, after the war, they could be reunited. Irena was caught, beaten, sentenced to death, but she never revealed a single name, but somehow, She survived. And many of the children she saved grew up to live meaningful lives, scientists, artists, educators, and more.
Like Jochebed, Irena wove hope in the shadows. She didn’t rescue a nation. She rescued children, who would one day shape nations.
So if you ever feel like your work is hidden, your prayers unnoticed, your faith uncelebrated, remember Jochebed, who placed her baby in a river and changed history or remember Irena, who placed names in jars, trusting, even in the darkest flood, God will find a way.
Because in the end, God doesn’t just use kings or prophets to bring about deliverance.
He uses mothers, sisters, social workers, volunteers and small acts of trust. Sometimes the greatest revolutions begin with someone quietly letting go… and believing God will take care of the rest.
Because even a tiny basket can carry a nation’s future.