When I was a rabbinical student, I worked for a summer as a hospital chaplain. It was difficult physically.
But it was even harder emotionally.
I witnessed extraordinary suffering. And I felt powerless to do anything about it.
These feelings hit hard because I am the son and grandson of physicians and teachers. They were always using their hands and minds to help others.
They had information or medicine to fix a problem.
But as a chaplain, my job was to sit and listen. It felt inadequate.
When I talked to my supervisor about this, he shared a quote with me. I didn’t find it very helpful at the time. But it grew on me.
It comes from the late great Ram Dass, a spiritual teacher and author who helped create the first hospice centers in America.
He said, “Compassion is to let people be as they need to be without changing them."
It didn’t feel relevant then because I had a mindset focused on fixing problems. Letting people be didn’t seem like the right definition of compassion.
It felt like giving up. It felt like the opposite of taking helpful action.
But 18 years in the rabbinate have taught me that compassion isn’t about fixing. It’s about presence.
It’s about staying with someone in their struggle, without trying to mold them into what we think they should be.
The Hebrew language conveys this nuance in its word for compassion. It is rachamim. It shares a root with rechem, meaning "womb." A womb nurtures life but doesn’t shape it by its own will.
Compassion is the same. It holds others in love. It surrounds them with acceptance. It gives them the space to be exactly as they are.
This acceptance can be comforting because people who are sick often feel out of place in society. They feel like outsiders because others are afraid to be around them.
Showing them they are loved and accepted exactly as they are can lift their spirits. Their greater positivity can even improve chances for healing.
But this compassion can extend beyond the sick. It can shape how we interact with everybody.
We often want to fix people. We want them to make decisions we believe are best for them. And we get frustrated when they don’t.
Think of friends or family members who got involved in a relationship or an activity we know was wrong for them. We wanted them to listen to us and change! Our desires probably came from love.
But sometimes, they come from fear—fear that if we don’t control things, they’ll fall apart.
Ruth and Naomi
Jewish wisdom shows us a better way in the book of Ruth.
It begins when an Israelite named Naomi and her husband leave the land of Israel because of a famine. They arrive in Moab.
In Moab, their two sons married Moabite women.
Soon, however, Naomi’s husband dies, along with her two sons. She is left alone with her two daughters-in-law.
One of them leaves and goes back to her family. Naomi expects her other daughter-in-law, Ruth, to do the same.
But Ruth decides differently. She doesn’t leave Naomi alone. And she doesn’t try to cheer Naomi up. She doesn’t tell her to stop grieving.
Instead, she stays with her. Ruth says, "Where you go, I will go. Where you stay, I will stay. Your people will be my people, and your God my God." (Ruth 1:16)
Her presence helps Naomi heal. Through Ruth’s compassion, Naomi finds hope. They journey together to Israel. And together, they rebuild their lives.
This is true compassion. It’s not always solving problems.
It’s about seeing the divine spark within another. It’s about staying present and trusting that their journey is sacred, even when it doesn’t align with what we expect or think it should be.
When we see someone suffering, this type of compassion can comfort and heal.
It simply requires humility because humility allows us to release our illusion of control. It asks us to trust that the same God guiding our path is also guiding theirs.
Three Actions to Take
So how do we develop this humility? It does not come naturally to many people. And our culture of self-promotion does not make much room for it. But we can try a few practices.
First, we can listen without judgment. When someone shares their pain, we often rush to solutions.
But what if we just listened? What if we let their words exist without trying to fix them?
Second, we can practice self-compassion. If we can’t accept ourselves as flawed and imperfect, how can we offer that gift to others? Self-compassion isn’t selfish. It’s the foundation for all other forms of love.
Finally, we can take action while leaving space for God. Ruth doesn’t just say nice things to Naomi. She accompanies her. She looks out for her.
But that’s not all. Her actions work together with God’s own.
Sometimes we have to act before God appears. And then God can do some of the work we can’t.
Think about the Exodus story. When Moses stands before Pharaoh, he cannot force Pharaoh to change. He simply delivers God’s message: "Let my people go."
Moses repeats this message again and again. He does not force Pharaoh to listen. He doesn’t try to change Pharaoh’s heart—that is God’s work.
Moses simply shows up, stands before Pharaoh, and leaves the rest in God’s hands. So can we.
Thanks Evan! Well-said and gratefully received. I hope to see you (and your wife) again soon at Epworth. Blessings to you and your work. Bill