In his modern commentary on Pirkei Avot, Rabbi Rami Shapiro braids the teachings from Micah 6:8 and Pirkei Avot into a single lesson. R. Shapiro writes: 

 

Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world’s grief. Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly now. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.

 

There is no denying that our current moment is one of deep anxiety, polarity, and uncertainty. Never before in human history have humans had access to such high volumes of information in real time. News alerts, social media posts, online communities, and other virtual networks have created an unprecedented web of human connectivity and engagement, but also a constant awareness about human suffering on a global scale. 

 

“Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world’s grief.”

 

Our tradition is no stranger to navigating existential terrain, uncertainty, and oppression. The words of our prophets cry out to us throughout history from their own moments of rupture, demanding of us a faithfulness to the best that we can be even when it feels like we are stuck in the weeds of who and where we are now. From birth to death and every messy, chaotic, bliss-filled moment in between, Judaism offers us resources for resilience and interdependent care. Accompanying individuals with the tools of our tradition as they experience moments of vulnerability, liminality, pain, and joy is to me the core of what it means to serve as a rabbi.

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Drawing on Jewish text, prayer, ritual, and sacred accompaniment models, I see my rabbinic call as one that invites me to infuse gentleness, grace, and curiosity into every encounter. As a rabbi, I hope to make people feel seen and empowered, to center the voices of those most in need of care and attention in our communities.  I hope to be a conduit of resources and to facilitate the process of individuals finding themselves and their experiences within the canon of Jewish text and tradition.  For these reasons and more, I see the rabbinate as a spiritual midwifery practice. 

 

Midwives lead through radical support and partnership. They use their bodies, minds, and intuition together to center the dignity of the person in front of them and affirm the limitless capacity of the inner wisdom each person possesses as a spark of the Divine. Midwives and death doulas operate on the fringes of our grasp of mortality, holding hands as life enters and exits our conscious realm. As a rabbi, I hope to hold both of these roles with sensitivity and sacred care.  

Literally and spiritually, midwives have the backs of the people they serve.  Like Shifra and Puah, I see a natural extension of this work to include subverting harmful power systems and political narratives that seek to diminish the dignity and autonomy of any person. 

 

“Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly now.” 

 

I see my rabbinate as supportive hands on the back of the raw, tired vulnerability of our moment. We need our Jewish communities to become sources of trauma-informed resilience so that we can hold the heaviness of this world together, and as a leader in the Jewish community this is the work I hope to steward. I believe that we are all responsible for one another, and that together we are capable of coaxing our spiritual nervous systems out of fight or flight states and into regulated ecosystems of compassion, coping, and calls to accountability instead. As I step into the role of rabbi, I know that I am taking my place in a long line of spiritual midwives who have turned to our rich tradition of lament, mutual care, and creative dreaming to build sanctuaries capable of sustaining a people over the course of centuries. 

 

“You are not obligated to complete the work, 

but neither are you free to abandon it.”

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I want us to take the grief of this world- mine and yours and ours and theirs- and use it as the fertile, messy substrate from which we grow and tend the garden of the World to Come together. I want us to know ease and comfort and joy and to know it deeper because of the ways we know how to hold each other in grief. As a rabbi, a spiritual midwife, and a death doula to the sacred compost of this life, this is the formulation of partnership and accompaniment I envision. 

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I promise to meet you in the enormity of the world’s grief,

I promise we will find justice, together. 

I promise we will cherish mercy, together. 

I promise we will walk, together, one stumbling step at a time 

toward the world we’re building, together. 

For none of us can bear the weight of this work alone, 

but together we can carry one another.

 

May we meet together in a sanctuary of support soon.

Ken yehi ratzon, so may it be.

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Citation: Shapiro, Wisdom of the Sages, 41. Paraphrase of Rabbi Rami Shapiro's interpretive translation of Rabbi Tarfon's work on the Pirke Avot 2:15-16. The text is a commentary on Micah 6:8