Vayikra Rabbah, a collection of Midrashic interpretations on the book of Leviticus, dives deep into this very topic, using the verse "when a woman conceives" as a springboard to explore the wonders of creation and our relationship with the Divine.

The passage opens with a quote from Job (36:3): "I will project [esa] my opinion afar, and I will ascribe righteousness to my Maker.” Rabbi Meir points out that the word esa, "project," has two connotations: song and speech. It's like a double meaning baked right in! He connects song to the praise of the righteous, citing Psalm 81:3, "Take up [se’u] the melody and sound the timbrel.” And he links speech to the downfall of the wicked, referencing Genesis 40:19: “In another three days Pharaoh shall lift [yisa] your head from upon you.” So, right off the bat, we're seeing how language itself can be a form of both celebration and warning.

Then, the Midrash shifts its focus to the idea of "afar," meaning "afar" or "distant," highlighting those who were once far away but have been brought near. Rabbi Natan suggests we contemplate Abraham, our patriarch, who came from afar, as it is written: “Abraham lifted his eyes and saw the place from afar” (Genesis 22:4). Rabbi Ḥanina bar Pappa takes it a step further, urging us to contemplate the Holy One, blessed be He, who drew us near to Him. It's a beautiful image – the Divine reaching out across the distance to connect with humanity.

Rabbi Ḥagai expands on this idea with a truly breathtaking vision. He speaks of matters distant from us, "a journey of five hundred years," and how even as we sleep, God causes winds to blow, clouds to rise, rain to fall, plants to grow, and then, dries them, setting a table before each and every one of us. Can you imagine that? This incredible, constant care and provision, even when we're completely unaware.

Rabbi Shmuel bar Idi, quoting Rav Aḥa, even weighs in on the source of this verse of Job. If Elihu spoke the words on his own, he is praiseworthy, but if he spoke them inspired by the Ruach HaKodesh, the Divine Spirit, he is worthy of the praise of praises.

But Rabbi Levi truly brings it home with three powerful analogies. He asks: if someone secretly deposits a purse of silver and receives a litra, a pound, of gold in public, wouldn't they feel indebted? So too, with the Holy One, blessed be He. We deposit a “putrid drop” in private – referring to the act of conception – and the Holy One returns a complete, high-quality human being in public. Is that not worthy of praise? This is the essence of "I will ascribe righteousness to my Maker."

Then, Rabbi Levi offers another image: a prisoner languishing in darkness, forgotten by the world. If someone were to light a lamp for them, wouldn't they be grateful? Similarly, the fetus is in the womb, and the Holy One kindles a lamp for it, echoing Job 29:3, “When His lamp would shine over my head.” Isn't that worthy of praise?

Finally, Rabbi Levi drives the point home. Again, a prisoner, this time not just in darkness, but truly captive. If someone were to free them, wouldn't they be eternally grateful? The fetus is in the womb, and the Holy One frees it, brings it into the world.

These aren't just abstract theological concepts. They're visceral, human experiences that we can all relate to: gratitude, relief, the wonder of new life. The Midrash invites us to see the Divine not as some distant, abstract force, but as an active, loving presence intimately involved in the creation and sustenance of every single human being.

So, the next time you witness a birth, or even just reflect on your own existence, take a moment to consider the profound miracle that it is. Consider the immense gratitude we owe to the One who brings us into the world, who sustains us, and who, in the words of Job, deserves all righteousness ascribed to Him. Because, honestly, isn't it all just… breathtaking?