Long ago, on March 2, I wrote a postcard blog about the Mikveh Ladies and how we had started to meet, acknowledging the 20th anniversary of the year that we officially converted to Judaism. We continued to meet every month or so until summer got in the way, and then we met a couple more times to create a ritual that would wrap up this year of discussions.
Thank goodness for Rabbi Gold, really. She had some ideas, she kept us on track, and in the end she gave the whole thing a form and a shape. She was our rabbi when we started our studies and in retirement she has continued to be our mentor. For myself I cannot imagine taking the leap of converting without the good fortune of having her as my teacher, since she is a feminist, an intellectual, a wise person, sometimes snarky, often funny, and extremely human.
Anyway, we went to the mikveh today. The five of us met at Blueberry Hill and got into one car together and Jon drove us into DC to Adas Israel. We have all been back to that building for one reason or another, but we Mikveh Ladies had not returned to the mikveh in two decades.
As we went down the steps and into the bowels of the building, we realized that our memories had morphed. None of us remembered it as it is. We all thought the space had been bigger, the pool itself had been bigger, and even the waiting room was smaller today than it was back then. Maybe it is, but probably not. It doesn't seem likely that they changed the pool, and it doesn't look like it has been renovated.
The rabbi brought a pretty beeswax candle that someone had given her at her retirement (over ten years ago) and a nice ceramic plate for the candle that she had once used at a healing ritual for our late friend and teacher Betsy Giller. We listened to a recording of Enosh, in memory and honor of Betsy. We read some prayers that we had selected, and then we each read a statement that we had written for the occasion -- we had decided to reflect on our Jewish lives and what we hope for ourselves in the future, Jewishly. We did everything in the order of who went to the mikveh, so I was first, Ruth second, then Peggy and finally Nell. There were lots of similarities between our perspectives, but they each reflected our own personalities too. Even though it was hard for us to make ourselves focus enough to write these pieces, it was an excellent idea (another two points for Rosalind Gold).
The room was steamy hot, which was too bad for the other three who followed directions and brought big robes to wear while they waited their turn. True to form, I did not bring a bathrobe but instead I brought one of my Hawaiian cotton jumpers -- perfect in that heat. We sat in the waiting room and ate potato chips and chocolate (the signature snacks of this group) while each of us took a dip in the warm water. Roz had created a playlist of Debbie Friedman music on her iPad, and that helped to separate us from the person who was in the mikveh. Another example of her understanding what would make the whole experience better -- we didn't really see why we needed a soundtrack, but now we get it.
I remember how magical it felt, twenty years ago. And I can still see why it seemed like magic. You have to immerse yourself completely, without touching any walls or floor. You have to be entirely naked with no makeup or jewelry so the water touches you everywhere. You say a blessing before each immersion and you think about it. This time the blessings were about gratitude, including the shechechyanu, a favorite prayer forever. The lights are low, the water is so velvety and lovely, and the rabbi stands on the edge, holding the plastic coated paper with the blessings. What could be more spooky and myth-invoking? Women for centuries have been immersing themselves for various reasons, marking important occasions, cleansing themselves for other reasons. It is a tradition for women and it is awesome in the way it separates a person from all other reality.
After each of us had taken our turn in the water, we dressed and read another prayer that we all like (the one about joining hands and walking together). Then the rabbi had us stand in a circle, close together, holding hands, and say a blessing for the person who was on her left. I was impressed by our ability, each of us, to say something articulate and meaningful with no warning at all. I loved it that we had no warning, and that the order was entirely random.
Then we packed up and got on the Metro and had a leisurely lunch at the Lebanese Taverna. I might get the picture from Ruth and then I can post it here later. I also agreed to draft an article for the newsletter, so maybe I will need to take some words from this blog, come to think of it. Not that we absolutely need to publicize this to everyone at the temple, but we have been a part of that community for a long time and they might like the story, if we tell it well enough.
After spending so much time preparing for this commemorative event, I guess it makes sense that it took the whole day, even if each of us was in the water for about three minutes total.
My favorite prayer, and Nell's, and probably most people's who know it:
Praise to You, Adonai our God, Sovereign of the universe, for giving us life, sustaining us, and enabling us to reach this season.
Baruch atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech haolam shehechyanu v'kiy'manu v'higianu laz'man hazeh.
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