The Babe in the Bulrushes — Reading Notes

A Mother's Hands and a Pharaoh's Decree

The narrative voice in the opening pages is intimate and urgent. Steedman uses short, breathless sentences: 'That was very hard for the poor people; but worse was to come.' The decree to kill baby boys is not a distant edict; it 'spread sorrow through all the land of Goshen.' The mother's perspective dominates. Jochebed is not named at first; she is simply 'a woman' holding 'her tiny baby.' The repetition of 'her' and 'baby' keeps the focus on the physical bond. When the cradle is set afloat, Steedman writes that Jochebed 'knew that presently the great princess... would come down to bathe.' This is not divine intervention but a mother's calculated hope. The prose trusts the reader to see the risk.

The Servant Who Hears His Name

The Samuel episode shifts from maternal anxiety to a child's bewilderment. Steedman builds the scene around sensory contrast: the dim lamp in the temple, the tired boy asleep, the sudden voice. Samuel's responses are immediate and literal: 'Here am I.' He assumes Eli is ill. The narrator notes that Samuel 'had learnt... to do exactly what he was told, never questioning.' This detail makes his obedience a habit, not a virtue. When the voice calls a third time, the boy 'positively' declares, 'Thou didst call me.' The word 'positively' is a small but telling choice—it conveys both certainty and a child's insistence. Eli's realization is slow, his eyes 'very dim,' and the message Samuel receives is terrible. Steedman does not soften it: the punishment will make 'even the ears of the people who heard about it should tingle.'

Repetition as a Narrative Tool

Steedman uses repetition to heighten emotional stakes. In the Moses story, the phrase 'the baby' appears again and again, as if the narrator cannot bear to name him yet. The cradle is called a 'little ark' twice, linking it to Noah's story without explanation. In the Samuel passage, the call-and-response pattern is repeated three times, each iteration tightening the tension. The boy runs to Eli, returns to bed, falls asleep, and is called again. The rhythm mimics a nightmare or a ritual. When Samuel finally answers, 'Speak, Lord, for Thy servant heareth,' the words are given in full, as if the narrator pauses to let them resonate. The repetition is not decorative; it is structural, mirroring the way a child learns through repetition and how a divine message might insist on being heard.

The Weight of Unspoken Knowledge

Steedman is skilled at showing what characters know but do not say. Jochebed 'prayed to God that He would help her to carry it out'—the plan is hers, the prayer is for courage. When the princess finds the baby, the narrator does not describe her thoughts; we only see her actions. In the Samuel story, the boy 'dreaded' Eli's question. His 'shining morning face was clouded and troubled.' The narrator tells us that 'the call he dreaded came all too soon.' But Samuel does not protest; he simply goes and stands at Eli's side. The emotional weight is carried by the gap between what is spoken and what is felt. Steedman trusts the reader to infer the fear, the loyalty, the burden of being chosen. The prose does not explain; it presents.

Steedman's retelling is notable for what it leaves out: there is no dramatic parting of the Red Sea, no burning bush, no plagues. The excerpts focus on the moments before the miracle—the waiting, the hiding, the listening. Readers familiar with the biblical accounts may find the pacing unusual. The value of this edition lies in its attention to the human scale of these stories: a mother's hands, a boy's confusion, the slow weight of a divine message. Approach it as a study in quiet devotion rather than epic adventure.

Sometimes I think of that babe in the bulrushes, and how a mother’s desperate love carried through the reeds. It always calls to mind a quieter volume I keep nearby, Forerunners and rivals of Christianity — Reading Notes, for both whisper of voices heard in darkness before the dawn breaks. A tender companionship, truly.