A Dip in the Mikvah

The Rabbinical Assembly Mikvah at AJU

This past Monday I experienced one of the most profound Jewish experiences of my young Jewish life. It took place in the basement of the American Jewish University, within the waters of the Rabbinical Assembly mikvah.

Some of you may know the word "mikvah" from the same place I learned it: Sex and the City, Season 6, episode 4, "Pick a Little, Talk a Little." In it, Charlotte finalizes her conversion to Judaism by dunking herself in an exquisite, well-lit mikvah. With light klezmer-esque music playing in the background and a giant Jewish star suspended above her, the scene is the climactic finish to her accelerated introduction to Judaism.

The mikvah's origins dealt with concepts of purity and impurity. It was used as a ritual purification bath following a woman's menstrual cycle (her period of niddah, or separation) as well as for men following unplanned ejaculations, or the wasting of seed. While today that might seem crude or offensive, back then it was considered necessary. The emissions of the body were frightening to ancient minds. Looking at blood and semen as representations of evil, there needed to exist a ritual act in which people could become pure again.

Today, there are only three times when one is obligated (or commanded) to visit the mikvah: when one converts, for brides before their wedding, or for the practice of niddah. Yet in all movements, the mikvah has become a place in which one's conversion to Judaism becomes real and tangible. Through the process of immersion - t'vilah - one is renewed by the power of natural, flowing waters. A person's old life is not washed away, it is simply begun again in themayim hayyim - living waters.

In recent decades, the mikvah has also become a source of renewal. Particularly for more progressive Jews, the mikvah is a place where one can "renew" themselves following a traumatic event, or prepare themselves for a new chapter, like a wedding or job promotion. The healing power of the mikvah has taken on an identity all its own, as evidenced by the recent Mayyim Hayyim conference in Boston attended by several of my classmates.

I decided to go to the mikvah this past Monday for several reasons. First, the mikvah has always fascinated me. Though some of my dear friends consider it an antiquated practice which promotes the theory that women - those who menstruate - are impure (an assertion I disagree with whole-heartedly) I always saw it as a beautiful ritual. How lovely to be able to immerse oneself in water, renewing soul and spirit. My astrological sign - Aquarius - and my penchant for being in, falling in, or drinking copious amounts of water also attract me to the idea of a ritual bath.

This new desire to spend my year living Jewish was also a big motivating factor. My desire to experience different elements of Judaism that were previously unfamiliar or downright foreign led me without question towards the mikvah. That most of my peers have never been, or even considered going, validated my need to push my own boundaries and expose myself to that which lies outside my comfort zone.

The reason I chose to go on November 1st was significant. It was exactly one year prior when I made the most difficult decision of my young adult life. I ended a relationship with someone I loved deeply, but knew in my heart was no longer working. The pain and agony leading up to that day, and the sadness, guilt, and relief it brought on, has followed me in different volumes throughout the past year. It has also been an extraordinary year of growth, filled with new experiences, new relationships, and a new me. I honestly would not change any of it, nor have I ever doubted my decision.

After six and a half years of being partnered, I wanted to mark one full year of independence. To me, there was no better way than through the healing waters of the mikvah.

I arrived after school with my mother, for I wanted her to be my eid - my witness. I removed my clothes, jewelry, nail polish, and contacts. I showered and washed my hair. I was instructed to do all this so that the waters could reach every part of my body.

Then, a wonderful assistant led me into the mikvah, naked as the day I was born. I ascended the seven steps - one for every day of the week - and felt the waters closing tightly in around me. It was the most unreal feeling; it literally felt claustrophobic. But the feeling was meant to imitate that of the womb, or of the loving arms of Judaism welcoming me, had I been a convert.

In the mikvah, I was led through a series of meditations on letting go of the past. The readings prompted many unexpected tears. I immersed myself three times, read three separate prayers, and was soon left alone in the mikvah. There, with just myself and my thoughts, I prayed harder and more fervently than I can ever remember doing. Tears fell down my face as I communicated with God. I had never felt so alive, so present, so connected to something greater than myself. At that moment, I felt overwhelming gratitude and love.

I ascended the steps feeling different. I went back onto dry land feeling as though I had left something behind. I felt a little lighter, and a little less weighed down by the burden of the past year. In the days that have followed my experience, those feelings have only continued.

The mikvah was my opportunity to experience a ritual healing I could not do before. While in many ways I have moved on physically and emotionally from last fall, there was a certain period of mourning I needed to get through. As with any death in the Jewish tradition, (nearly) a full year needed to pass.

Being in the mikvah and having the opportunity to physically do that - as well as pray, whole-heartedly, to God - was just extraordinary. How had I never done this before? What an amazing thing to do - to physically leave behind a part of your past from which you wish to move on. What an amazing concept - using water as a means for renewing your spirit.

I am so grateful to have visited the mikvah and believe so much in its concept. I believe it can provide anyone with an opportunity for release; to let go, and to mark the passage of time from one phase to another. Through the healing power of water - a staple element of every major religion - each of us has the power to be renewed.

So, dear readers, I implore you to ask yourselves: how or when might I use the mikvah? Or if not the mikvah, what other element or ritual experience can provide me with a certain degree of closure? Each of us is a collection of life experiences; each of us has a series of memories from which we may wish to move on. How do we do that, in order to be the best versions of ourselves we can be? How do we become more open, more alive, more connected? For me, the answer this past week was the mikvah. What might the answer be for you?

With gratitude,

Jaclyn