Rabbi’s Message: February 17, 2026

A Gentle Note Before You Read

Before we begin, I want to offer a moment of pastoral care and transparency.

In this week’s message, we engage with Parashat Mishpatim (and Mishnah Ohalot from our Talmud) which includes discussion of miscarriage, pregnancy loss, violence against women, and abortion. These are not abstract topics in Torah and our tradition, and they are not abstract in our lives.

If you are in a tender place right now, please know that it is entirely okay to pause, to skip this message, or to return to it at another time. Listening to ourselves is also a sacred act; and there are resources available to help. Some of these resources are:

• If you are navigating infertility, miscarriage, or stillbirth, compassionate support can be found here: I Was Supposed to Have a Baby — https://iwassupposedtohaveababy.org/

• If you are experiencing domestic or dating violence, confidential Jewish-centered support in Northern California is available through Shalom Bayit: https://shalom-bayit.org/ and Nevada through Jewish Nevada: https://www.jfsalv.org/copy-of-counseling-program 

• If you are processing medical trauma, fear, or lingering distress connected to healthcare experiences, Jewish-grounded resources and guidance are available through the Jewish Trauma Network: https://jewishtrauma.com/

• If you are seeking support related to abortion and reproductive health care, including practical, emotional, and spiritual support rooted in Jewish values, resources are available through the Jewish Abortion Access Coalition and its S.A.F.E. Plan (Support, Advocacy, Funding, Education):  https://www.jewsforabortionaccess.org/ and https://www.jewsforabortionaccess.org/resources-for-repro-care

May this community always be a place where care comes before certainty, and where no one has to carry difficult experiences alone.

Now, let’s get into what the Torah has to say:

This past Shabbat, we read Parashat Mishpatim. It is a Torah portion dense with law, case studies, and moral nuance. It is not romantic. And yet this year, Mishpatim arrived on Valentine’s Day, a day culturally devoted to love, commitment, and care. That coincidence invites a deeper reflection: what happens when relationships turn messy or even dangerous? What does the Torah have to say about the real, embodied complexity of human life? The non-Hallmark parts?

Mishpatim is Torah at its most practical. It does not imagine human beings as perfect abstractions, but as people who live in bodies, in families, in moments of vulnerability and challenge and risk. Among its laws is a brief but powerful case: a pregnant person injured during a struggle, resulting in miscarriage. The Torah’s response is not rhetorical or theological. It is a practical, usable law. And it’s a law that distinguishes clearly between harm to the pregnant person and harm to the pregnancy itself (Exodus 21:22–23).

For generations, Jewish tradition has understood this distinction as meaningful. It is one of the textual foundations for Judaism’s insistence on moral complexity, rather than absolutism, when it comes to pregnancy. Mishpatim teaches that the Torah recognizes gradations of life, responsibility, and harm — and that legal and ethical reasoning must respond to real human situations, not slogans.

This is deeply connected to the core Jewish idea of b’tzelem Elohim, that every human being is created in the image of God. To be made in God’s image is not merely to exist, but to be entrusted with wisdom, agency, and moral responsibility. Jewish tradition has long affirmed that women are full bearers of that divine image, capable of ethical discernment and deserving of trust.

Trust is not a small thing in Judaism. It is the foundation of covenant. To say that women deserve bodily autonomy is not to dismiss the sanctity of life; it is to affirm that those who carry life are already standing on holy ground. Decisions about pregnancy, health, and continuation of life belong first and foremost to the person whose body and soul are most directly involved, guided by medical professionals, Jewish values, and conscience – not by those removed from the intimate realities of sometimes messy but always necessary care.

This understanding is made explicit in later Jewish law. The Mishnah teaches:

“If a woman is in hard labor, the fetus may be dismembered in her womb and removed limb by limb, because her life takes precedence over its life. But once its head has emerged, it may not be touched, for one life may not be set aside for another.”
(Mishnah Ohalot 7:6)

This text is not casual. It is careful, restrained, and morally serious. It affirms that life is sacred — and that there is a fundamental difference between the potential for a life and an existing life itself. The life, health, and dignity of the pregnant person come first. Jewish law does not erase tragedy or heart-breaking difficulty; it responds to it with humility and compassion.

This is why Jewish communities mark Reproductive Shabbat each year: not as a political gesture, but as a religious one. “Repro Shabbat” is a moment to study our own texts, reclaim our moral voice, and remember that Judaism has never reduced pregnancy to a single legal or theological claim. Instead, our tradition asks us to weigh life, suffering, risk, and responsibility with care.

Much of this work in the United States has been stewarded by the National Council of Jewish Women, one of the oldest and most enduring Jewish organizations in American history. Founded in 1893, NCJW reflects a classic strand of American Jewish culture: women translating Jewish values into civic responsibility, education, and advocacy. Across generations, NCJW has championed immigrant aid, child welfare, voting rights, reproductive health, and moral agency — not as a departure from our rooting in the theology of b’tzelem Elohim, but as an expression of it. Indeed, as we approach Purim — a holiday that celebrates how a single woman saved her entire people — we are reminded how deeply Judaism values the full humanity and moral agency of women. Honoring Repro Shabbat is one way American Jewish communities affirm that tradition today.

This week, you are invited to learn more: to study these texts, to ask hard questions, to listen deeply. You are also invited to act in ways that reflect your values—through education, conversation, or support for organizations that uphold dignity and care.

May we continue to approach these sacred questions with humility, courage, and compassion.
May we honor the divine image in every person.
And may our Torah guide us to lift up justice that is rooted in compassion for each and every one of us.