Metzora: The Secret of the Mikvah
How the Construction of Our Mikvaot Reflect the Healing Process
- April 4, 2014
- |
- 4 Nisan 5774
Rabbi YY Jacobson
83 viewsMetzora: The Secret of the Mikvah
How the Construction of Our Mikvaot Reflect the Healing Process
Rabbi YY Jacobson
- April 4, 2014
The Rabbi's Wish
A Presbyterian Minister, a Catholic Priest, and a Rabbi are discussing funerals and the question came up, "When you are in your casket, and friends, family, and congregates are mourning over you, what would you like to hear them say?"
The Presbyterian Minister says "I would like to hear them say that I was a wonderful husband, a fine spiritual leader, and a great family man."
The Catholic Priest says, "I would like to hear that I was a wonderful teacher and a loyal servant of God who brought forgiveness and love to people's lives."
The Rabbi replies, "I would like to hear them say, 'Look, he's moving.'"
Recovering after loss
"In the face of such severe abuse, can I ever heal? Can I ever reclaim the joy, confidence and serenity that was robbed from me as a child"?
"I have been an addict now for so many years. Alcohol, codependence, over-eating, anger, acssesive work, drugs, nicotine, aggressive behavior, have become my tools to cope with the deep fear and pain buried in my psyche. Can I ever recover"?
The answer to these wrenching questions, plaguing the hearts of so many victims of physical or mental abuse, is a theme in this week's Torah portion, Metzora.
The Mikvah
Chapter 15 of Leviticus—part of this weekly portion Metzora—is the source for one of the most sacred institution in Judaism—the “mikvah.”
חגיגה יא, א: תניא (ויקרא טו, ו) ורחץ (את בשרו) במים במי מקוה. את כל בשרו מים שכל גופו עולה בהן וכמה הן אמה על אמה ברום שלש אמות ושיערו חכמים מי מקוה ארבעים סאה:
רש"י: במים - נקודתו בפתח משמע מים המיוחדים לאפוקי שאובין/ ומיהו מים חיים לא צריך מדכתיב בזב מים חיים (ויקרא טו) מכלל דשאר טמאין לאו מים חיים בעו/ ומיהו במים במים המיוחדין במקוה אע"פ שהן גשמים:
Our sages teach us that the building of a mikvah is even more vital to the spiritual continuity of the Jewish people than the building of a synagogue. If a community only has enough funds to either build a shul or a mikvah—the mikvah comes first. In fact, we are required to sell a synagogue and even a Torah Scroll in order to raise funds to build a mikvah.
It is fascinating that every archeological dig of ancient cities in Israel has uncovered a Mikvah. Even atop the mountain of Masada, where Jews defended themselves against the Roman war machine for two years under dire circumstances, Mikvahs were found.
Immersion in a mikveh facilitates the transition to a new spiritual status and sensitizes our bodies to a higher level of holiness. Jews would immerse in the mikvah before entering the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. Immersion in a mikveh has always been a requirement for conversion to Judaism. Many men immerse on the Eve of Yom Kippur (and many do so before the Sabbath and holidays, and some even every day). Married women immerse in a mikveh monthly following their menstrual cycle. Brides )and grooms( immerse in a mikvah before their wedding day.
Today we will explore some of the fascinating mechanisms of the mikvah—on a practical level and then on a psychological and spiritual level.
Heavenly Water
The word mikveh literally means “collection.” It refers to a pool or gathering of water. In the words of the Leviticus: “A spring or a cistern where there is a collection of water shall be pure.”[1]
According to the classical regulations, a verse in this week’s portion, “he shall his flesh in water,” teaches us that a mikvah must contain enough water to cover the entire body of an average-sized person when he or she ducks.[2] The rabbis calculate the necessary volume of water as being 40 seah, which according to most contemporary authorities is about 150 gallons.
But there is one catch: When the Torah describes the power of the mikvah, it states:[3]
אך מעין ובור מקוה מים יהיה טהור.
A spring or a cistern where there is a collection of water shall be pure.
Purity, in other words, comes from a wellspring or a collection of water gathered in a cistern.
But wait! Why did the Torah have to specify the wellspring? Why not just say “where there is a gathering of water” and that would include any body of water, from springs to swimming pools?
It is from this verse that the Sages deduced one of the most vital principles of mikvah: the water of the mikvah be gathered into a pool by natural means.[4] If a pool of water is manmade, it is invalid. As the Sifra, a volume of Tannaitic teachings, states:
מה מעין בידי שמים, אף מקוה בידי שמים.
Just as a wellspring (in the wild) was created by G-d, so too a mikvah (a gathering of water to purify) must be created by G-d.
Man-made pools are out. Any rainwater or spring water that was collected in a vessel (known as “mayim sheuvin”) and then used to fill a mikvah, is disqualified. The mikvah must be filled by “heaven”—either a spring which is a natural source of water, or by having a cistern or pit filled with natural rain water without any human intervention.
As a result, historically Jews either immersed in wild springs or in rainwater that had gathered in a pit.[5] For example, the mikvahs at Masada were far from any natural spring. They presumably functioned as a cistern for rain, and the Masada residents immersed therein. Rivers, large lakes, or even the ocean would all be considered kosher mikvaot.
Whence the Fresh Water?
Now, unless you strike lucky and find a wellspring in the backyard of your shul or home upon which you can build a mikvah, you are left with the unattractive option of having a really dirty mikvah, until we get a nice big thunderstorm.
Not every rabbi is as lucky as my colleague, the Chabad rabbi of Tenafly, NJ, Rabbi Mordechai Shein, who while building his mikvah came across a well spring, and hence constructed his entire mikvah atop this spring, so that his actual mikvah consists of fresh spring water flowing from the earth every moment of the day and night. This is similar to the famous mikvah of the Arizal in the city of Tzefas, which is also an actual well spring. The rest of us must use the rain water option.
But if this is the case, you would expect almost every mikvah to be quite dirty. Yet take a look at our mikvaot and you will see how sparkling clean they are. Guess why? The water is changed daily with new fresh water coming from the faucets. But our top water is rainwater filtered in the water tanks of the city. Does that not disqualify almost every mikvah in the world today?
The answer comes through a fascinating law in Judaism, known as the “the law of the kiss,” or the connection-mechanism.[6]
The Law of the Kiss
The Halacha (law) states that once we have a mikvah of forty seah (150 gallons) which contains kosher natural rain or spring water, then we can kosherize all the water that connects to this mikvah through a process known as hashakah (a term derived from the Hebrew word ‘to kiss’), where we “kiss” and connect the two bodies of water together.
Based on this law, most of the mikvahs in the world are built in the following manner: There is a bath of water that we immerse ourselves in. This is the water you see when you go to any mikvah—filled with regular "man-touched" tap water, which is fresh, clean, warm, and cozy.
But there is another bath of water, connected to the surface water via a small hole, which you usually do not see at all. This second bath is located either beneath or to the side of the pool that you immerse yourself in. The second, subterranean pool of water is plain rainwater that came directly into the underground bath without human intervention, without water tanks or pipes constructed my man to hold the water.
Now, once those two bodies of water touch, or “kiss” in halachik language, all the tap water in the surface pool is halachically transformed into kosher mikvah water. In this manner, we can forever use the original rainwater in the subterranean pool. The sub-surface rainwater is kept there for years and provides a continuous kosherizing process to the surface pool of tap water. Each time we refill the upper bath with fresh, warm top water, we ensure that it “kisses” the underground rainwater, and we are good to go. As long as the original mikvah has forty seah of kosher water it can transform all the water in the world!
Is This a Game?
But what's going on here? Is this some sort of inside rabbinic joke? Because we don’t want to have to use the same rainy water, we are constructing this legalistic theory of the connection-mechanism?
Didn’t we say a mikvah needs to be natural water that never sat in a vessel? And yet, when we dip in a mikvah we are dipping in tap water drawn from a hose in the background! Who cares about the subterranean pool of natural rainwater? That’s not the pool we're immersing in! Take a bath in your house for the same price.
To answer this question, we must delve deeper into the entire idea of mikvah in the first place.
Returning to the Source
What is the core theme of mikvah? What does it represent?
Your earliest self-knowledge is of a being immersed in water.
You were one with your environment: you were mother and mother was you, you were the universe and the universe was yourself. There was no I, she, it or that, for all being was one.
In the beginning, we were submerged in water. As fetuses in our mother's womb, we floated for months in an amniotic sac filled with water In fact, the human body is mostly water. We are 60% water.
In fact, Scientists have tentatively declared they have found water on Titan, one of Saturn's moons. This is so monumental because the signature card of life is water. Without food a human being can live for weeks, without water—days at best. Water, then, represents the source of life. Going into water represents returning to our life-source.
During that period of our lives, we were innocent and wholesome. No masks, no facades, no deceit. We knew G-d instinctively and we bonded with Him in a very real, simple and passionate way. The Talmud states that in the womb of our mothers, we come to know “The entire Torah.”[7]
Then came the day when you were thrust out from the enveloping waters. Distinctiveness and identity were conferred upon you, and your oneness with your source became a vestige of a memory. You now revel in your apartness, your ego a shield, wresting sustenance and purpose from an environment that is distinct of yourself and which you share and compete over with like-armored others.
Although as we exit the womb we are given the opportunity to develop our personality, to maximize our potentials, and to discover G-d in yet a deeper, more intelligent and sophisticated way, what so often happens, is that we get affected by the turmoil and pain of life. Either as the result of our own errors or of those around us, as we grow older, we sometimes lose touch with the sacred infant that we once were. In our sophistication and our ambitions, we often lose our relationship with our inner Divine dignity, our simplistic humanity, and our spiritual core.
The Child
We can learn a lot by observing children at their quintessential selves, because before children have been affected by society, parents, and community, they can sometimes give us a specimen of what our lives would be like before we were abused or hurt or disappointed.
Children have natural cheer. They have a natural, enchanted air about them; some would call it naiveté, because they haven’t yet tasted of the pains of life, but you can also say that it does definitely reflect on a certain natural state that which we all have within us.
When does a child cease to be consistently cheerful? When a child first gets disappointed: the first grief or the first loss or the first disappointment. I would say, to put it in more cosmic terms, that you experience sadness the first time there’s some deception, some type of split in a person’s life. Sadness for the loss, sadness for what could have been, sadness for not getting what you want.
The Kabbalah teaches that joy is a completely natural state. It’s not even an expression of a spiritual type of existence, it’s equated with life itself. Like a fish swimming in its own waters, each soul has that type of natural cheer.
Now, living in a world of so much grief and pain, when we see someone joyous, it’s like a novelty for us, an exotic experience. We want to know what they are smoking… But for someone who has that flow, that seamlessness, where there isn’t a dichotomy in life of what you want and what you expect or a deception of different forms, then joy comes very naturally, and that’s why children are joyous.
The Secret of the Mikvah
But even as we grow older and more disappointed or dysfunctional, the memory of the womb remains. And when the strangeness of your world becomes too much to bear, and the loneliness of your battle too heavy to carry, you seek solace in your watery past. The memory of the womb comforts you, reassuring you that you are not truly alone, that underneath it all you are one with the universe, and with its core—your creator
This is the essence of the mikvah—to return to your source in water; to go back to the time when you were submerged in the womb's water. Return to the innocent place in you that has not been touched since the days you floated in that warm womb.
Despite any hurt or challenges, all of us retain a sacred space that is untouchable. This is a space that nobody has access to, besides G-d and you. The part in you that is still pure as it was when it was in your mother's womb.
Every human being possesses within him/her an inner reservoir of spiritual innocence and profound love, described in the Zohar as "the inner child."[8] It may be dormant, even suppressed for many years, but we can access it and reclaim through it sheer joy of life that is the natural possession of every man. When pain or impurity takes over your life, it’s time to go back to water.
That is why Moses was named Moshe, which means "drawn from water." This great human being, who gave the world the gift of Torah, is defined by the fact that he never lost touch with the water-like integrity and confidence of the innate human spirit.
When things get tough, you, too, could always return to that space of "Moses." There you will discover the true "I," that I that is naturally happy, serene, loving and confidant. The “I” that is one with G-d, that is part of G-d, and is unconditionally loved by G-d.[9]
You Need G-d, Not Man
Now we can appreciate why both the spring or a cistern of rainwater are kosher for use in a mikvah. Because both come from G-d, untouched by man. When we need a mikvah, when we've lost our way, when we've gotten out of alignment with our core beauty and holiness, we look to G-d for healing and realignment, not man.
This is not because it is beyond the power of a human to heal other men or women (though that may be true at times too), it is because in the mikvah we reach for the place in us where we are not dependent any longer at any human being for validation, approval, or security. We align ourselves with our Divine core—which is, just like G-d, indestructible.
Placing natural rainwater into a vessel immediately disqualifies the mikvah experience. The mikvah demands a lot from us. She is sitting there ready and willing to transform us from impurity to purity but she also demands from us: to let go of control. Don’t define and limit your healing; let G-d do it for you. Don’t process your waters in “limiting” vessels, measured by the human imagination. Allow yourself to be overtaken by the natural Divine waters, without human intervention. Give your healing over to G-d.
The Challenge of Integration
We could stop here and have much to process, but the mikvah won’t let us. She demands from us to go yet one step deeper.
Here we come to a problem. The fact is that we don’t live in a womb of G-dliness; we live in a fractured and hungry world. And we live in a reality that forces us to take control; we live in environments in which we are dependent on people and where we are subjected to hurt, pain and disappointment.
Sure, it is nice to be submerged in the divine waters, untouched by human influence. But, each of us must face on a daily basis the realities of human frailty, corruption, and pain. How can we discover and maintain our Divine inner purity under such conditions?
Me?!
A story:
Some Hasidim of the Maggid of Mezheritz came to him. "Rebbe, we are puzzled. It says in the Talmud that we must thank God as much for the bad days, as for the good. How can that be? What would our gratitude mean, if we gave it equally for the good and the bad?"
The Maggid replied, "Go to Anapol. Reb Zusya will have an answer for you."
The Hasidim undertook the journey. Arriving in Anapol, they inquired for Reb Zusya. At last, they came to the poorest street of the city. There, crowded between two small houses, they found a tiny shack, sagging with age.
When they entered, they saw Reb Zusya sitting at a bare table, reading a volume by the light of the only small window. "Welcome, strangers!" he said. "Please pardon me for not getting up; I have hurt my leg. Would you like food? I have some bread. And there is water!"
"No. We have come only to ask you a question. The Maggid of Mezheritz told us you might help us understand: Why do our sages tell us to thank God as much for the bad days as for the good?"
Reb Zusya laughed. "Me? I have no idea why the Maggid sent you to me." He shook his head in puzzlement. "You see, I have never had a bad day. Every day God has given to me has been filled with miracles."
But not everyone is Reb Zusha…[10]
This is where the connection-mechanism, the concept of “hashakah,” comes in. What appears as loophole in the laws of mikvah, really captures the essence of living a meaningful and wholesome life. As long as we connect and “kiss” the man-processed waters with the original heavenly water, all the water can purify us.
We aren’t able to wallow in the total heavenliness of the pure mikvah; we can’t return to our mothers’ womb and spend the rest of our lives there… We can’t undo our entire past and all the influence other humans had on us. We are now independent people, with our own blessings and challenges, virtues and vices. We must use our minds, hearts and resources to find and access our purifying “waters,” and we can’t just surrender into a cosmic mikvah. But as long as we connect our processed waters with the original mikvah waters; as long as we align our work in figuring out our lives with the subterranean pool of mikvah, with the Divine transcendent core in our selves, even our ordinary fragmented lives take on a depth, a beauty that inspires us amidst the chaos of this life.
As long as we can open a “hole”, a window, in our lives, which connects and “kisses” our humanly processed water with the heavenly water, we remain pure, confident and wholesome. This is why Chassidim go to the mikvah every day[11]—for this is allows them align their stressful, earthly, and fragmented lives with its Divine core. To link their adulthood with their childhood. To remain a child even while you are an adult…
This is why before marital intimacy the woman goes to the mikvah. For a relationship to be truly wholesome and powerful, you need to be in touch with your core-self. If not, you will always need your partner to validate you and will never be able to show up for them in a real and deep way. The mikvah allows for an intimacy which is based on the unshakable confidence and wholesomeness which stems from going back to the days in the womb where your existence was innate, innocent and happy, where you can see yourself the way G-d sees you.
Reb Meirel
During the winter of 1903, the fifth Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Sholom Ber Schneerson (1860-1920), whose yartzeit was on Wednesday, journeyed from the city of Lubavitch in Belarus to Vienna, to visit Sigmund Freud. His son, the sixth Lubavitcher Rebbe, once shared the following episode:
In the winter of 5663, When I accompanied my father for the couple of months he spent consulting medical specialists in Vienna, he would sometimes go out in the evening to visit the shtiblach (small informal “houses” of study and prayer) of the local Polish Jews—to be among chassidim, to hear a story from their mouths, to listen to a chassidic saying, and to observe fine conduct and refined character.
One Wednesday night, on the eve of the Fifteenth of Shevat, my father visited one of these shtiblach, where several hoary chassidim were sitting around together and talking. As my father and I drew nearer, we heard that they were telling stories of the saintly Rabbi Meir of Premishlan.
Among other things, they related that the mikveh (ritual bath) in Rabbi Meir’s neighborhood stood at the foot of a steep mountain. When the slippery weather came, everyone had to walk all the way around for fear of slipping on the mountain path and breaking their bones—everyone, that is, apart from Rabbi Meir, who walked down that path whatever the weather, and never slipped.
One icy day, Rabbi Meir set out as usual to take the direct route to the mikveh. Two guests were staying in the area, sons of the rich who had come somewhat under the influence of the “Enlightenment” movement. These two young men did not believe in supernatural achievements, and when they saw Rabbi Meir striding downhill with sure steps as if he were on a solidly paved highway, they wanted to demonstrate that they too could negotiate the hazardous path. As soon as Rabbi Meir entered the mikveh building, therefore, they took to the road. After only a few steps they stumbled and slipped, and needed medical treatment for their injuries.
Now one of them was the son of one of Rabbi Meir’s close chassidim, and when he was fully healed he mustered the courage to approach the tzaddik with his question: why was it that no man could cope with that treacherous path, yet the Rebbe never stumbled?
Replied Rabbi Meir: “If a man is bound up on high, he doesn’t fall down below. Meir’l is bound up on high, and that is why he can go up and down, even on a slippery hill.”
אויב מען איז צוגעבונדן אויבן, פאלט מען נישט אונטן...[12]
[1] Leviticus 11:36.
[2] Talmud, Chagigah 11a (see Tosefos ibid); Eruvin 4b. See the deeper explanation in Sichas 20 AV 5724.
[3] Leviticus ibid.
[4] According to Rashi in Chagigah 11a (quoted above), this law too we derive from the above verse in Metzora. Cf. Tosefos there.
[5] As you might imagine, immersing in muddy dirty water in a pit leaves one a bit smelly so people would take showers after immersion. This led to a problem because people started thinking that it is the shower that creates the purity so the Sages outlawed taking a shower after immersion in a pit!
[6] See Mishnah Mikvaos 6:1. Talmud Pesachim 34b
[7] Talmud Niddah 30b
[8] See Shem Mishmuel Parshas Vayigash.
[9] If that is the case, why is it that women have to go to mikvah once a month after every menstrual cycle? The bleeding occurs through a natural process, and with no fault on their part? How then can we say that they immerse in the mikvah to realign, perhaps they have done nothing that would require realignment with G-d?
The answer is, that the menstruation cycle of the woman is indicative of how holy and pure she is. Because, the blood cycle is a result of Eve's involvement in the sin of the tree of knowledge (Talmud Eiruvin 100). More broadly, a woman carries the weight of the world within her, the world is a fragmented place after the tree of knowledge and this is reflected in the menstrual cycle of a woman. The blood is the result of the pain in a world which is not aligned with its source and core.
Now, the Jewish body is so holy, so tightly wound up with G-d that it cannot tolerate any sub-par materials. And since the blood is demonstrative of sin, the Jewish female body just won’t tolerate it and expels it, resulting in the blood cycle.
Another point: Many people think that a woman, who is niddah, is forbidden to be intimate with her husband because she is "impure" or "dirty." This is entirely untrue. The prohibition on intimacy is simply a function of religious law and has nothing to do with the statutes of a woman in halacha. The prohibition is a matter of issur, not tumah. (This entire themes is explained in Likkutei Sichov vol. 3 Metzora).
[10] See Sichas Purim 5731—about this story of Reb Zusha and how it was unique to him.
[11] See Likkutei Torah Ki Savo.
[12] This essay is based on Likkutei Sichos vol. 30 Noach. A letter by the Rebbe to Rabbi Yitzchak Dubov from Manchester. Sefer Halikutim under entries of Mikvah and Tevilah. CF. Waters of Eden by Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan.
- Comment
Class Summary:
This week’s portion is the source for one of the most sacred institution in Judaism—the “mikvah.”
One of the central principles of the mikvah is that man-made pools are out. Any rainwater or spring water that was collected in a vessel and then used to fill a mikvah, is disqualified. The mikvah must be filled by “heaven”—either a spring which is a natural source of water, or by having a cistern or pit filled with natural rain water without any human intervention. As a result, historically Jews either immersed in wild springs or in rainwater that had gathered in a pit. For example, the mikvahs at Masada were far from any natural spring. They presumably functioned as a cistern for rain, and the Masada residents immersed therein.
But if this is the case, you would expect almost every mikvah to be quite dirty. Yet take a look at our mikvaot and you will see how sparkling clean they are. Guess why? The water is changed daily with new fresh water coming from the faucets. But our top water is rainwater filtered in the water tanks of the city. Does that not disqualify almost every mikvah in the world today?
The answer comes through a fascinating law in Judaism, known as the “the law of the kiss,” or the connection-mechanism, in which the clean top water “kiss” or touch the rain water and as a result become kosher for mikvah.
What's going on here? Is this some sort of inside rabbinic joke? Because we don’t want to have to use the same rainy water, we are constructing this legalistic theory of the connection-mechanism? Didn’t we say a mikvah needs to be natural water that never sat in a vessel? And yet, when we dip in a mikvah we are dipping in tap water drawn from a hose in the background! Who cares about the subterranean pool of natural rainwater? That’s not the pool we're immersing in! Take a bath in your house for the same price.
This sermon explores the deeper dimensions of mikvah construction—demonstrating how the “law of the kiss” reflects our process of healing and regaining our wholesomeness in a chaotic and painful world.
The Rabbi's Wish
A Presbyterian Minister, a Catholic Priest, and a Rabbi are discussing funerals and the question came up, "When you are in your casket, and friends, family, and congregates are mourning over you, what would you like to hear them say?"
The Presbyterian Minister says "I would like to hear them say that I was a wonderful husband, a fine spiritual leader, and a great family man."
The Catholic Priest says, "I would like to hear that I was a wonderful teacher and a loyal servant of God who brought forgiveness and love to people's lives."
The Rabbi replies, "I would like to hear them say, 'Look, he's moving.'"
Recovering after loss
"In the face of such severe abuse, can I ever heal? Can I ever reclaim the joy, confidence and serenity that was robbed from me as a child"?
"I have been an addict now for so many years. Alcohol, codependence, over-eating, anger, acssesive work, drugs, nicotine, aggressive behavior, have become my tools to cope with the deep fear and pain buried in my psyche. Can I ever recover"?
The answer to these wrenching questions, plaguing the hearts of so many victims of physical or mental abuse, is a theme in this week's Torah portion, Metzora.
The Mikvah
Chapter 15 of Leviticus—part of this weekly portion Metzora—is the source for one of the most sacred institution in Judaism—the “mikvah.”
חגיגה יא, א: תניא (ויקרא טו, ו) ורחץ (את בשרו) במים במי מקוה. את כל בשרו מים שכל גופו עולה בהן וכמה הן אמה על אמה ברום שלש אמות ושיערו חכמים מי מקוה ארבעים סאה:
רש"י: במים - נקודתו בפתח משמע מים המיוחדים לאפוקי שאובין/ ומיהו מים חיים לא צריך מדכתיב בזב מים חיים (ויקרא טו) מכלל דשאר טמאין לאו מים חיים בעו/ ומיהו במים במים המיוחדין במקוה אע"פ שהן גשמים:
Our sages teach us that the building of a mikvah is even more vital to the spiritual continuity of the Jewish people than the building of a synagogue. If a community only has enough funds to either build a shul or a mikvah—the mikvah comes first. In fact, we are required to sell a synagogue and even a Torah Scroll in order to raise funds to build a mikvah.
It is fascinating that every archeological dig of ancient cities in Israel has uncovered a Mikvah. Even atop the mountain of Masada, where Jews defended themselves against the Roman war machine for two years under dire circumstances, Mikvahs were found.
Immersion in a mikveh facilitates the transition to a new spiritual status and sensitizes our bodies to a higher level of holiness. Jews would immerse in the mikvah before entering the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. Immersion in a mikveh has always been a requirement for conversion to Judaism. Many men immerse on the Eve of Yom Kippur (and many do so before the Sabbath and holidays, and some even every day). Married women immerse in a mikveh monthly following their menstrual cycle. Brides )and grooms( immerse in a mikvah before their wedding day.
Today we will explore some of the fascinating mechanisms of the mikvah—on a practical level and then on a psychological and spiritual level.
Heavenly Water
The word mikveh literally means “collection.” It refers to a pool or gathering of water. In the words of the Leviticus: “A spring or a cistern where there is a collection of water shall be pure.”[1]
According to the classical regulations, a verse in this week’s portion, “he shall his flesh in water,” teaches us that a mikvah must contain enough water to cover the entire body of an average-sized person when he or she ducks.[2] The rabbis calculate the necessary volume of water as being 40 seah, which according to most contemporary authorities is about 150 gallons.
But there is one catch: When the Torah describes the power of the mikvah, it states:[3]
אך מעין ובור מקוה מים יהיה טהור.
A spring or a cistern where there is a collection of water shall be pure.
Purity, in other words, comes from a wellspring or a collection of water gathered in a cistern.
But wait! Why did the Torah have to specify the wellspring? Why not just say “where there is a gathering of water” and that would include any body of water, from springs to swimming pools?
It is from this verse that the Sages deduced one of the most vital principles of mikvah: the water of the mikvah be gathered into a pool by natural means.[4] If a pool of water is manmade, it is invalid. As the Sifra, a volume of Tannaitic teachings, states:
מה מעין בידי שמים, אף מקוה בידי שמים.
Just as a wellspring (in the wild) was created by G-d, so too a mikvah (a gathering of water to purify) must be created by G-d.
Man-made pools are out. Any rainwater or spring water that was collected in a vessel (known as “mayim sheuvin”) and then used to fill a mikvah, is disqualified. The mikvah must be filled by “heaven”—either a spring which is a natural source of water, or by having a cistern or pit filled with natural rain water without any human intervention.
As a result, historically Jews either immersed in wild springs or in rainwater that had gathered in a pit.[5] For example, the mikvahs at Masada were far from any natural spring. They presumably functioned as a cistern for rain, and the Masada residents immersed therein. Rivers, large lakes, or even the ocean would all be considered kosher mikvaot.
Whence the Fresh Water?
Now, unless you strike lucky and find a wellspring in the backyard of your shul or home upon which you can build a mikvah, you are left with the unattractive option of having a really dirty mikvah, until we get a nice big thunderstorm.
Not every rabbi is as lucky as my colleague, the Chabad rabbi of Tenafly, NJ, Rabbi Mordechai Shein, who while building his mikvah came across a well spring, and hence constructed his entire mikvah atop this spring, so that his actual mikvah consists of fresh spring water flowing from the earth every moment of the day and night. This is similar to the famous mikvah of the Arizal in the city of Tzefas, which is also an actual well spring. The rest of us must use the rain water option.
But if this is the case, you would expect almost every mikvah to be quite dirty. Yet take a look at our mikvaot and you will see how sparkling clean they are. Guess why? The water is changed daily with new fresh water coming from the faucets. But our top water is rainwater filtered in the water tanks of the city. Does that not disqualify almost every mikvah in the world today?
The answer comes through a fascinating law in Judaism, known as the “the law of the kiss,” or the connection-mechanism.[6]
The Law of the Kiss
The Halacha (law) states that once we have a mikvah of forty seah (150 gallons) which contains kosher natural rain or spring water, then we can kosherize all the water that connects to this mikvah through a process known as hashakah (a term derived from the Hebrew word ‘to kiss’), where we “kiss” and connect the two bodies of water together.
Based on this law, most of the mikvahs in the world are built in the following manner: There is a bath of water that we immerse ourselves in. This is the water you see when you go to any mikvah—filled with regular "man-touched" tap water, which is fresh, clean, warm, and cozy.
But there is another bath of water, connected to the surface water via a small hole, which you usually do not see at all. This second bath is located either beneath or to the side of the pool that you immerse yourself in. The second, subterranean pool of water is plain rainwater that came directly into the underground bath without human intervention, without water tanks or pipes constructed my man to hold the water.
Now, once those two bodies of water touch, or “kiss” in halachik language, all the tap water in the surface pool is halachically transformed into kosher mikvah water. In this manner, we can forever use the original rainwater in the subterranean pool. The sub-surface rainwater is kept there for years and provides a continuous kosherizing process to the surface pool of tap water. Each time we refill the upper bath with fresh, warm top water, we ensure that it “kisses” the underground rainwater, and we are good to go. As long as the original mikvah has forty seah of kosher water it can transform all the water in the world!
Is This a Game?
But what's going on here? Is this some sort of inside rabbinic joke? Because we don’t want to have to use the same rainy water, we are constructing this legalistic theory of the connection-mechanism?
Didn’t we say a mikvah needs to be natural water that never sat in a vessel? And yet, when we dip in a mikvah we are dipping in tap water drawn from a hose in the background! Who cares about the subterranean pool of natural rainwater? That’s not the pool we're immersing in! Take a bath in your house for the same price.
To answer this question, we must delve deeper into the entire idea of mikvah in the first place.
Returning to the Source
What is the core theme of mikvah? What does it represent?
Your earliest self-knowledge is of a being immersed in water.
You were one with your environment: you were mother and mother was you, you were the universe and the universe was yourself. There was no I, she, it or that, for all being was one.
In the beginning, we were submerged in water. As fetuses in our mother's womb, we floated for months in an amniotic sac filled with water In fact, the human body is mostly water. We are 60% water.
In fact, Scientists have tentatively declared they have found water on Titan, one of Saturn's moons. This is so monumental because the signature card of life is water. Without food a human being can live for weeks, without water—days at best. Water, then, represents the source of life. Going into water represents returning to our life-source.
During that period of our lives, we were innocent and wholesome. No masks, no facades, no deceit. We knew G-d instinctively and we bonded with Him in a very real, simple and passionate way. The Talmud states that in the womb of our mothers, we come to know “The entire Torah.”[7]
Then came the day when you were thrust out from the enveloping waters. Distinctiveness and identity were conferred upon you, and your oneness with your source became a vestige of a memory. You now revel in your apartness, your ego a shield, wresting sustenance and purpose from an environment that is distinct of yourself and which you share and compete over with like-armored others.
Although as we exit the womb we are given the opportunity to develop our personality, to maximize our potentials, and to discover G-d in yet a deeper, more intelligent and sophisticated way, what so often happens, is that we get affected by the turmoil and pain of life. Either as the result of our own errors or of those around us, as we grow older, we sometimes lose touch with the sacred infant that we once were. In our sophistication and our ambitions, we often lose our relationship with our inner Divine dignity, our simplistic humanity, and our spiritual core.
The Child
We can learn a lot by observing children at their quintessential selves, because before children have been affected by society, parents, and community, they can sometimes give us a specimen of what our lives would be like before we were abused or hurt or disappointed.
Children have natural cheer. They have a natural, enchanted air about them; some would call it naiveté, because they haven’t yet tasted of the pains of life, but you can also say that it does definitely reflect on a certain natural state that which we all have within us.
When does a child cease to be consistently cheerful? When a child first gets disappointed: the first grief or the first loss or the first disappointment. I would say, to put it in more cosmic terms, that you experience sadness the first time there’s some deception, some type of split in a person’s life. Sadness for the loss, sadness for what could have been, sadness for not getting what you want.
The Kabbalah teaches that joy is a completely natural state. It’s not even an expression of a spiritual type of existence, it’s equated with life itself. Like a fish swimming in its own waters, each soul has that type of natural cheer.
Now, living in a world of so much grief and pain, when we see someone joyous, it’s like a novelty for us, an exotic experience. We want to know what they are smoking… But for someone who has that flow, that seamlessness, where there isn’t a dichotomy in life of what you want and what you expect or a deception of different forms, then joy comes very naturally, and that’s why children are joyous.
The Secret of the Mikvah
But even as we grow older and more disappointed or dysfunctional, the memory of the womb remains. And when the strangeness of your world becomes too much to bear, and the loneliness of your battle too heavy to carry, you seek solace in your watery past. The memory of the womb comforts you, reassuring you that you are not truly alone, that underneath it all you are one with the universe, and with its core—your creator
This is the essence of the mikvah—to return to your source in water; to go back to the time when you were submerged in the womb's water. Return to the innocent place in you that has not been touched since the days you floated in that warm womb.
Despite any hurt or challenges, all of us retain a sacred space that is untouchable. This is a space that nobody has access to, besides G-d and you. The part in you that is still pure as it was when it was in your mother's womb.
Every human being possesses within him/her an inner reservoir of spiritual innocence and profound love, described in the Zohar as "the inner child."[8] It may be dormant, even suppressed for many years, but we can access it and reclaim through it sheer joy of life that is the natural possession of every man. When pain or impurity takes over your life, it’s time to go back to water.
That is why Moses was named Moshe, which means "drawn from water." This great human being, who gave the world the gift of Torah, is defined by the fact that he never lost touch with the water-like integrity and confidence of the innate human spirit.
When things get tough, you, too, could always return to that space of "Moses." There you will discover the true "I," that I that is naturally happy, serene, loving and confidant. The “I” that is one with G-d, that is part of G-d, and is unconditionally loved by G-d.[9]
You Need G-d, Not Man
Now we can appreciate why both the spring or a cistern of rainwater are kosher for use in a mikvah. Because both come from G-d, untouched by man. When we need a mikvah, when we've lost our way, when we've gotten out of alignment with our core beauty and holiness, we look to G-d for healing and realignment, not man.
This is not because it is beyond the power of a human to heal other men or women (though that may be true at times too), it is because in the mikvah we reach for the place in us where we are not dependent any longer at any human being for validation, approval, or security. We align ourselves with our Divine core—which is, just like G-d, indestructible.
Placing natural rainwater into a vessel immediately disqualifies the mikvah experience. The mikvah demands a lot from us. She is sitting there ready and willing to transform us from impurity to purity but she also demands from us: to let go of control. Don’t define and limit your healing; let G-d do it for you. Don’t process your waters in “limiting” vessels, measured by the human imagination. Allow yourself to be overtaken by the natural Divine waters, without human intervention. Give your healing over to G-d.
The Challenge of Integration
We could stop here and have much to process, but the mikvah won’t let us. She demands from us to go yet one step deeper.
Here we come to a problem. The fact is that we don’t live in a womb of G-dliness; we live in a fractured and hungry world. And we live in a reality that forces us to take control; we live in environments in which we are dependent on people and where we are subjected to hurt, pain and disappointment.
Sure, it is nice to be submerged in the divine waters, untouched by human influence. But, each of us must face on a daily basis the realities of human frailty, corruption, and pain. How can we discover and maintain our Divine inner purity under such conditions?
Me?!
A story:
Some Hasidim of the Maggid of Mezheritz came to him. "Rebbe, we are puzzled. It says in the Talmud that we must thank God as much for the bad days, as for the good. How can that be? What would our gratitude mean, if we gave it equally for the good and the bad?"
The Maggid replied, "Go to Anapol. Reb Zusya will have an answer for you."
The Hasidim undertook the journey. Arriving in Anapol, they inquired for Reb Zusya. At last, they came to the poorest street of the city. There, crowded between two small houses, they found a tiny shack, sagging with age.
When they entered, they saw Reb Zusya sitting at a bare table, reading a volume by the light of the only small window. "Welcome, strangers!" he said. "Please pardon me for not getting up; I have hurt my leg. Would you like food? I have some bread. And there is water!"
"No. We have come only to ask you a question. The Maggid of Mezheritz told us you might help us understand: Why do our sages tell us to thank God as much for the bad days as for the good?"
Reb Zusya laughed. "Me? I have no idea why the Maggid sent you to me." He shook his head in puzzlement. "You see, I have never had a bad day. Every day God has given to me has been filled with miracles."
But not everyone is Reb Zusha…[10]
This is where the connection-mechanism, the concept of “hashakah,” comes in. What appears as loophole in the laws of mikvah, really captures the essence of living a meaningful and wholesome life. As long as we connect and “kiss” the man-processed waters with the original heavenly water, all the water can purify us.
We aren’t able to wallow in the total heavenliness of the pure mikvah; we can’t return to our mothers’ womb and spend the rest of our lives there… We can’t undo our entire past and all the influence other humans had on us. We are now independent people, with our own blessings and challenges, virtues and vices. We must use our minds, hearts and resources to find and access our purifying “waters,” and we can’t just surrender into a cosmic mikvah. But as long as we connect our processed waters with the original mikvah waters; as long as we align our work in figuring out our lives with the subterranean pool of mikvah, with the Divine transcendent core in our selves, even our ordinary fragmented lives take on a depth, a beauty that inspires us amidst the chaos of this life.
As long as we can open a “hole”, a window, in our lives, which connects and “kisses” our humanly processed water with the heavenly water, we remain pure, confident and wholesome. This is why Chassidim go to the mikvah every day[11]—for this is allows them align their stressful, earthly, and fragmented lives with its Divine core. To link their adulthood with their childhood. To remain a child even while you are an adult…
This is why before marital intimacy the woman goes to the mikvah. For a relationship to be truly wholesome and powerful, you need to be in touch with your core-self. If not, you will always need your partner to validate you and will never be able to show up for them in a real and deep way. The mikvah allows for an intimacy which is based on the unshakable confidence and wholesomeness which stems from going back to the days in the womb where your existence was innate, innocent and happy, where you can see yourself the way G-d sees you.
Reb Meirel
During the winter of 1903, the fifth Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Sholom Ber Schneerson (1860-1920), whose yartzeit was on Wednesday, journeyed from the city of Lubavitch in Belarus to Vienna, to visit Sigmund Freud. His son, the sixth Lubavitcher Rebbe, once shared the following episode:
In the winter of 5663, When I accompanied my father for the couple of months he spent consulting medical specialists in Vienna, he would sometimes go out in the evening to visit the shtiblach (small informal “houses” of study and prayer) of the local Polish Jews—to be among chassidim, to hear a story from their mouths, to listen to a chassidic saying, and to observe fine conduct and refined character.
One Wednesday night, on the eve of the Fifteenth of Shevat, my father visited one of these shtiblach, where several hoary chassidim were sitting around together and talking. As my father and I drew nearer, we heard that they were telling stories of the saintly Rabbi Meir of Premishlan.
Among other things, they related that the mikveh (ritual bath) in Rabbi Meir’s neighborhood stood at the foot of a steep mountain. When the slippery weather came, everyone had to walk all the way around for fear of slipping on the mountain path and breaking their bones—everyone, that is, apart from Rabbi Meir, who walked down that path whatever the weather, and never slipped.
One icy day, Rabbi Meir set out as usual to take the direct route to the mikveh. Two guests were staying in the area, sons of the rich who had come somewhat under the influence of the “Enlightenment” movement. These two young men did not believe in supernatural achievements, and when they saw Rabbi Meir striding downhill with sure steps as if he were on a solidly paved highway, they wanted to demonstrate that they too could negotiate the hazardous path. As soon as Rabbi Meir entered the mikveh building, therefore, they took to the road. After only a few steps they stumbled and slipped, and needed medical treatment for their injuries.
Now one of them was the son of one of Rabbi Meir’s close chassidim, and when he was fully healed he mustered the courage to approach the tzaddik with his question: why was it that no man could cope with that treacherous path, yet the Rebbe never stumbled?
Replied Rabbi Meir: “If a man is bound up on high, he doesn’t fall down below. Meir’l is bound up on high, and that is why he can go up and down, even on a slippery hill.”
אויב מען איז צוגעבונדן אויבן, פאלט מען נישט אונטן...[12]
[1] Leviticus 11:36.
[2] Talmud, Chagigah 11a (see Tosefos ibid); Eruvin 4b. See the deeper explanation in Sichas 20 AV 5724.
[3] Leviticus ibid.
[4] According to Rashi in Chagigah 11a (quoted above), this law too we derive from the above verse in Metzora. Cf. Tosefos there.
[5] As you might imagine, immersing in muddy dirty water in a pit leaves one a bit smelly so people would take showers after immersion. This led to a problem because people started thinking that it is the shower that creates the purity so the Sages outlawed taking a shower after immersion in a pit!
[6] See Mishnah Mikvaos 6:1. Talmud Pesachim 34b
[7] Talmud Niddah 30b
[8] See Shem Mishmuel Parshas Vayigash.
[9] If that is the case, why is it that women have to go to mikvah once a month after every menstrual cycle? The bleeding occurs through a natural process, and with no fault on their part? How then can we say that they immerse in the mikvah to realign, perhaps they have done nothing that would require realignment with G-d?
The answer is, that the menstruation cycle of the woman is indicative of how holy and pure she is. Because, the blood cycle is a result of Eve's involvement in the sin of the tree of knowledge (Talmud Eiruvin 100). More broadly, a woman carries the weight of the world within her, the world is a fragmented place after the tree of knowledge and this is reflected in the menstrual cycle of a woman. The blood is the result of the pain in a world which is not aligned with its source and core.
Now, the Jewish body is so holy, so tightly wound up with G-d that it cannot tolerate any sub-par materials. And since the blood is demonstrative of sin, the Jewish female body just won’t tolerate it and expels it, resulting in the blood cycle.
Another point: Many people think that a woman, who is niddah, is forbidden to be intimate with her husband because she is "impure" or "dirty." This is entirely untrue. The prohibition on intimacy is simply a function of religious law and has nothing to do with the statutes of a woman in halacha. The prohibition is a matter of issur, not tumah. (This entire themes is explained in Likkutei Sichov vol. 3 Metzora).
[10] See Sichas Purim 5731—about this story of Reb Zusha and how it was unique to him.
[11] See Likkutei Torah Ki Savo.
[12] This essay is based on Likkutei Sichos vol. 30 Noach. A letter by the Rebbe to Rabbi Yitzchak Dubov from Manchester. Sefer Halikutim under entries of Mikvah and Tevilah. CF. Waters of Eden by Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan.
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Rabbi YY Jacobson
- April 4, 2014
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Metzora: The Secret of the Mikvah
How the Construction of Our Mikvaot Reflect the Healing Process
Rabbi YY Jacobson
- April 4, 2014
The Rabbi's Wish
A Presbyterian Minister, a Catholic Priest, and a Rabbi are discussing funerals and the question came up, "When you are in your casket, and friends, family, and congregates are mourning over you, what would you like to hear them say?"
The Presbyterian Minister says "I would like to hear them say that I was a wonderful husband, a fine spiritual leader, and a great family man."
The Catholic Priest says, "I would like to hear that I was a wonderful teacher and a loyal servant of God who brought forgiveness and love to people's lives."
The Rabbi replies, "I would like to hear them say, 'Look, he's moving.'"
Recovering after loss
"In the face of such severe abuse, can I ever heal? Can I ever reclaim the joy, confidence and serenity that was robbed from me as a child"?
"I have been an addict now for so many years. Alcohol, codependence, over-eating, anger, acssesive work, drugs, nicotine, aggressive behavior, have become my tools to cope with the deep fear and pain buried in my psyche. Can I ever recover"?
The answer to these wrenching questions, plaguing the hearts of so many victims of physical or mental abuse, is a theme in this week's Torah portion, Metzora.
The Mikvah
Chapter 15 of Leviticus—part of this weekly portion Metzora—is the source for one of the most sacred institution in Judaism—the “mikvah.”
חגיגה יא, א: תניא (ויקרא טו, ו) ורחץ (את בשרו) במים במי מקוה. את כל בשרו מים שכל גופו עולה בהן וכמה הן אמה על אמה ברום שלש אמות ושיערו חכמים מי מקוה ארבעים סאה:
רש"י: במים - נקודתו בפתח משמע מים המיוחדים לאפוקי שאובין/ ומיהו מים חיים לא צריך מדכתיב בזב מים חיים (ויקרא טו) מכלל דשאר טמאין לאו מים חיים בעו/ ומיהו במים במים המיוחדין במקוה אע"פ שהן גשמים:
Our sages teach us that the building of a mikvah is even more vital to the spiritual continuity of the Jewish people than the building of a synagogue. If a community only has enough funds to either build a shul or a mikvah—the mikvah comes first. In fact, we are required to sell a synagogue and even a Torah Scroll in order to raise funds to build a mikvah.
It is fascinating that every archeological dig of ancient cities in Israel has uncovered a Mikvah. Even atop the mountain of Masada, where Jews defended themselves against the Roman war machine for two years under dire circumstances, Mikvahs were found.
Immersion in a mikveh facilitates the transition to a new spiritual status and sensitizes our bodies to a higher level of holiness. Jews would immerse in the mikvah before entering the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. Immersion in a mikveh has always been a requirement for conversion to Judaism. Many men immerse on the Eve of Yom Kippur (and many do so before the Sabbath and holidays, and some even every day). Married women immerse in a mikveh monthly following their menstrual cycle. Brides )and grooms( immerse in a mikvah before their wedding day.
Today we will explore some of the fascinating mechanisms of the mikvah—on a practical level and then on a psychological and spiritual level.
Heavenly Water
The word mikveh literally means “collection.” It refers to a pool or gathering of water. In the words of the Leviticus: “A spring or a cistern where there is a collection of water shall be pure.”[1]
According to the classical regulations, a verse in this week’s portion, “he shall his flesh in water,” teaches us that a mikvah must contain enough water to cover the entire body of an average-sized person when he or she ducks.[2] The rabbis calculate the necessary volume of water as being 40 seah, which according to most contemporary authorities is about 150 gallons.
But there is one catch: When the Torah describes the power of the mikvah, it states:[3]
אך מעין ובור מקוה מים יהיה טהור.
A spring or a cistern where there is a collection of water shall be pure.
Purity, in other words, comes from a wellspring or a collection of water gathered in a cistern.
But wait! Why did the Torah have to specify the wellspring? Why not just say “where there is a gathering of water” and that would include any body of water, from springs to swimming pools?
It is from this verse that the Sages deduced one of the most vital principles of mikvah: the water of the mikvah be gathered into a pool by natural means.[4] If a pool of water is manmade, it is invalid. As the Sifra, a volume of Tannaitic teachings, states:
מה מעין בידי שמים, אף מקוה בידי שמים.
Just as a wellspring (in the wild) was created by G-d, so too a mikvah (a gathering of water to purify) must be created by G-d.
Man-made pools are out. Any rainwater or spring water that was collected in a vessel (known as “mayim sheuvin”) and then used to fill a mikvah, is disqualified. The mikvah must be filled by “heaven”—either a spring which is a natural source of water, or by having a cistern or pit filled with natural rain water without any human intervention.
As a result, historically Jews either immersed in wild springs or in rainwater that had gathered in a pit.[5] For example, the mikvahs at Masada were far from any natural spring. They presumably functioned as a cistern for rain, and the Masada residents immersed therein. Rivers, large lakes, or even the ocean would all be considered kosher mikvaot.
Whence the Fresh Water?
Now, unless you strike lucky and find a wellspring in the backyard of your shul or home upon which you can build a mikvah, you are left with the unattractive option of having a really dirty mikvah, until we get a nice big thunderstorm.
Not every rabbi is as lucky as my colleague, the Chabad rabbi of Tenafly, NJ, Rabbi Mordechai Shein, who while building his mikvah came across a well spring, and hence constructed his entire mikvah atop this spring, so that his actual mikvah consists of fresh spring water flowing from the earth every moment of the day and night. This is similar to the famous mikvah of the Arizal in the city of Tzefas, which is also an actual well spring. The rest of us must use the rain water option.
But if this is the case, you would expect almost every mikvah to be quite dirty. Yet take a look at our mikvaot and you will see how sparkling clean they are. Guess why? The water is changed daily with new fresh water coming from the faucets. But our top water is rainwater filtered in the water tanks of the city. Does that not disqualify almost every mikvah in the world today?
The answer comes through a fascinating law in Judaism, known as the “the law of the kiss,” or the connection-mechanism.[6]
The Law of the Kiss
The Halacha (law) states that once we have a mikvah of forty seah (150 gallons) which contains kosher natural rain or spring water, then we can kosherize all the water that connects to this mikvah through a process known as hashakah (a term derived from the Hebrew word ‘to kiss’), where we “kiss” and connect the two bodies of water together.
Based on this law, most of the mikvahs in the world are built in the following manner: There is a bath of water that we immerse ourselves in. This is the water you see when you go to any mikvah—filled with regular "man-touched" tap water, which is fresh, clean, warm, and cozy.
But there is another bath of water, connected to the surface water via a small hole, which you usually do not see at all. This second bath is located either beneath or to the side of the pool that you immerse yourself in. The second, subterranean pool of water is plain rainwater that came directly into the underground bath without human intervention, without water tanks or pipes constructed my man to hold the water.
Now, once those two bodies of water touch, or “kiss” in halachik language, all the tap water in the surface pool is halachically transformed into kosher mikvah water. In this manner, we can forever use the original rainwater in the subterranean pool. The sub-surface rainwater is kept there for years and provides a continuous kosherizing process to the surface pool of tap water. Each time we refill the upper bath with fresh, warm top water, we ensure that it “kisses” the underground rainwater, and we are good to go. As long as the original mikvah has forty seah of kosher water it can transform all the water in the world!
Is This a Game?
But what's going on here? Is this some sort of inside rabbinic joke? Because we don’t want to have to use the same rainy water, we are constructing this legalistic theory of the connection-mechanism?
Didn’t we say a mikvah needs to be natural water that never sat in a vessel? And yet, when we dip in a mikvah we are dipping in tap water drawn from a hose in the background! Who cares about the subterranean pool of natural rainwater? That’s not the pool we're immersing in! Take a bath in your house for the same price.
To answer this question, we must delve deeper into the entire idea of mikvah in the first place.
Returning to the Source
What is the core theme of mikvah? What does it represent?
Your earliest self-knowledge is of a being immersed in water.
You were one with your environment: you were mother and mother was you, you were the universe and the universe was yourself. There was no I, she, it or that, for all being was one.
In the beginning, we were submerged in water. As fetuses in our mother's womb, we floated for months in an amniotic sac filled with water In fact, the human body is mostly water. We are 60% water.
In fact, Scientists have tentatively declared they have found water on Titan, one of Saturn's moons. This is so monumental because the signature card of life is water. Without food a human being can live for weeks, without water—days at best. Water, then, represents the source of life. Going into water represents returning to our life-source.
During that period of our lives, we were innocent and wholesome. No masks, no facades, no deceit. We knew G-d instinctively and we bonded with Him in a very real, simple and passionate way. The Talmud states that in the womb of our mothers, we come to know “The entire Torah.”[7]
Then came the day when you were thrust out from the enveloping waters. Distinctiveness and identity were conferred upon you, and your oneness with your source became a vestige of a memory. You now revel in your apartness, your ego a shield, wresting sustenance and purpose from an environment that is distinct of yourself and which you share and compete over with like-armored others.
Although as we exit the womb we are given the opportunity to develop our personality, to maximize our potentials, and to discover G-d in yet a deeper, more intelligent and sophisticated way, what so often happens, is that we get affected by the turmoil and pain of life. Either as the result of our own errors or of those around us, as we grow older, we sometimes lose touch with the sacred infant that we once were. In our sophistication and our ambitions, we often lose our relationship with our inner Divine dignity, our simplistic humanity, and our spiritual core.
The Child
We can learn a lot by observing children at their quintessential selves, because before children have been affected by society, parents, and community, they can sometimes give us a specimen of what our lives would be like before we were abused or hurt or disappointed.
Children have natural cheer. They have a natural, enchanted air about them; some would call it naiveté, because they haven’t yet tasted of the pains of life, but you can also say that it does definitely reflect on a certain natural state that which we all have within us.
When does a child cease to be consistently cheerful? When a child first gets disappointed: the first grief or the first loss or the first disappointment. I would say, to put it in more cosmic terms, that you experience sadness the first time there’s some deception, some type of split in a person’s life. Sadness for the loss, sadness for what could have been, sadness for not getting what you want.
The Kabbalah teaches that joy is a completely natural state. It’s not even an expression of a spiritual type of existence, it’s equated with life itself. Like a fish swimming in its own waters, each soul has that type of natural cheer.
Now, living in a world of so much grief and pain, when we see someone joyous, it’s like a novelty for us, an exotic experience. We want to know what they are smoking… But for someone who has that flow, that seamlessness, where there isn’t a dichotomy in life of what you want and what you expect or a deception of different forms, then joy comes very naturally, and that’s why children are joyous.
The Secret of the Mikvah
But even as we grow older and more disappointed or dysfunctional, the memory of the womb remains. And when the strangeness of your world becomes too much to bear, and the loneliness of your battle too heavy to carry, you seek solace in your watery past. The memory of the womb comforts you, reassuring you that you are not truly alone, that underneath it all you are one with the universe, and with its core—your creator
This is the essence of the mikvah—to return to your source in water; to go back to the time when you were submerged in the womb's water. Return to the innocent place in you that has not been touched since the days you floated in that warm womb.
Despite any hurt or challenges, all of us retain a sacred space that is untouchable. This is a space that nobody has access to, besides G-d and you. The part in you that is still pure as it was when it was in your mother's womb.
Every human being possesses within him/her an inner reservoir of spiritual innocence and profound love, described in the Zohar as "the inner child."[8] It may be dormant, even suppressed for many years, but we can access it and reclaim through it sheer joy of life that is the natural possession of every man. When pain or impurity takes over your life, it’s time to go back to water.
That is why Moses was named Moshe, which means "drawn from water." This great human being, who gave the world the gift of Torah, is defined by the fact that he never lost touch with the water-like integrity and confidence of the innate human spirit.
When things get tough, you, too, could always return to that space of "Moses." There you will discover the true "I," that I that is naturally happy, serene, loving and confidant. The “I” that is one with G-d, that is part of G-d, and is unconditionally loved by G-d.[9]
You Need G-d, Not Man
Now we can appreciate why both the spring or a cistern of rainwater are kosher for use in a mikvah. Because both come from G-d, untouched by man. When we need a mikvah, when we've lost our way, when we've gotten out of alignment with our core beauty and holiness, we look to G-d for healing and realignment, not man.
This is not because it is beyond the power of a human to heal other men or women (though that may be true at times too), it is because in the mikvah we reach for the place in us where we are not dependent any longer at any human being for validation, approval, or security. We align ourselves with our Divine core—which is, just like G-d, indestructible.
Placing natural rainwater into a vessel immediately disqualifies the mikvah experience. The mikvah demands a lot from us. She is sitting there ready and willing to transform us from impurity to purity but she also demands from us: to let go of control. Don’t define and limit your healing; let G-d do it for you. Don’t process your waters in “limiting” vessels, measured by the human imagination. Allow yourself to be overtaken by the natural Divine waters, without human intervention. Give your healing over to G-d.
The Challenge of Integration
We could stop here and have much to process, but the mikvah won’t let us. She demands from us to go yet one step deeper.
Here we come to a problem. The fact is that we don’t live in a womb of G-dliness; we live in a fractured and hungry world. And we live in a reality that forces us to take control; we live in environments in which we are dependent on people and where we are subjected to hurt, pain and disappointment.
Sure, it is nice to be submerged in the divine waters, untouched by human influence. But, each of us must face on a daily basis the realities of human frailty, corruption, and pain. How can we discover and maintain our Divine inner purity under such conditions?
Me?!
A story:
Some Hasidim of the Maggid of Mezheritz came to him. "Rebbe, we are puzzled. It says in the Talmud that we must thank God as much for the bad days, as for the good. How can that be? What would our gratitude mean, if we gave it equally for the good and the bad?"
The Maggid replied, "Go to Anapol. Reb Zusya will have an answer for you."
The Hasidim undertook the journey. Arriving in Anapol, they inquired for Reb Zusya. At last, they came to the poorest street of the city. There, crowded between two small houses, they found a tiny shack, sagging with age.
When they entered, they saw Reb Zusya sitting at a bare table, reading a volume by the light of the only small window. "Welcome, strangers!" he said. "Please pardon me for not getting up; I have hurt my leg. Would you like food? I have some bread. And there is water!"
"No. We have come only to ask you a question. The Maggid of Mezheritz told us you might help us understand: Why do our sages tell us to thank God as much for the bad days as for the good?"
Reb Zusya laughed. "Me? I have no idea why the Maggid sent you to me." He shook his head in puzzlement. "You see, I have never had a bad day. Every day God has given to me has been filled with miracles."
But not everyone is Reb Zusha…[10]
This is where the connection-mechanism, the concept of “hashakah,” comes in. What appears as loophole in the laws of mikvah, really captures the essence of living a meaningful and wholesome life. As long as we connect and “kiss” the man-processed waters with the original heavenly water, all the water can purify us.
We aren’t able to wallow in the total heavenliness of the pure mikvah; we can’t return to our mothers’ womb and spend the rest of our lives there… We can’t undo our entire past and all the influence other humans had on us. We are now independent people, with our own blessings and challenges, virtues and vices. We must use our minds, hearts and resources to find and access our purifying “waters,” and we can’t just surrender into a cosmic mikvah. But as long as we connect our processed waters with the original mikvah waters; as long as we align our work in figuring out our lives with the subterranean pool of mikvah, with the Divine transcendent core in our selves, even our ordinary fragmented lives take on a depth, a beauty that inspires us amidst the chaos of this life.
As long as we can open a “hole”, a window, in our lives, which connects and “kisses” our humanly processed water with the heavenly water, we remain pure, confident and wholesome. This is why Chassidim go to the mikvah every day[11]—for this is allows them align their stressful, earthly, and fragmented lives with its Divine core. To link their adulthood with their childhood. To remain a child even while you are an adult…
This is why before marital intimacy the woman goes to the mikvah. For a relationship to be truly wholesome and powerful, you need to be in touch with your core-self. If not, you will always need your partner to validate you and will never be able to show up for them in a real and deep way. The mikvah allows for an intimacy which is based on the unshakable confidence and wholesomeness which stems from going back to the days in the womb where your existence was innate, innocent and happy, where you can see yourself the way G-d sees you.
Reb Meirel
During the winter of 1903, the fifth Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Sholom Ber Schneerson (1860-1920), whose yartzeit was on Wednesday, journeyed from the city of Lubavitch in Belarus to Vienna, to visit Sigmund Freud. His son, the sixth Lubavitcher Rebbe, once shared the following episode:
In the winter of 5663, When I accompanied my father for the couple of months he spent consulting medical specialists in Vienna, he would sometimes go out in the evening to visit the shtiblach (small informal “houses” of study and prayer) of the local Polish Jews—to be among chassidim, to hear a story from their mouths, to listen to a chassidic saying, and to observe fine conduct and refined character.
One Wednesday night, on the eve of the Fifteenth of Shevat, my father visited one of these shtiblach, where several hoary chassidim were sitting around together and talking. As my father and I drew nearer, we heard that they were telling stories of the saintly Rabbi Meir of Premishlan.
Among other things, they related that the mikveh (ritual bath) in Rabbi Meir’s neighborhood stood at the foot of a steep mountain. When the slippery weather came, everyone had to walk all the way around for fear of slipping on the mountain path and breaking their bones—everyone, that is, apart from Rabbi Meir, who walked down that path whatever the weather, and never slipped.
One icy day, Rabbi Meir set out as usual to take the direct route to the mikveh. Two guests were staying in the area, sons of the rich who had come somewhat under the influence of the “Enlightenment” movement. These two young men did not believe in supernatural achievements, and when they saw Rabbi Meir striding downhill with sure steps as if he were on a solidly paved highway, they wanted to demonstrate that they too could negotiate the hazardous path. As soon as Rabbi Meir entered the mikveh building, therefore, they took to the road. After only a few steps they stumbled and slipped, and needed medical treatment for their injuries.
Now one of them was the son of one of Rabbi Meir’s close chassidim, and when he was fully healed he mustered the courage to approach the tzaddik with his question: why was it that no man could cope with that treacherous path, yet the Rebbe never stumbled?
Replied Rabbi Meir: “If a man is bound up on high, he doesn’t fall down below. Meir’l is bound up on high, and that is why he can go up and down, even on a slippery hill.”
אויב מען איז צוגעבונדן אויבן, פאלט מען נישט אונטן...[12]
[1] Leviticus 11:36.
[2] Talmud, Chagigah 11a (see Tosefos ibid); Eruvin 4b. See the deeper explanation in Sichas 20 AV 5724.
[3] Leviticus ibid.
[4] According to Rashi in Chagigah 11a (quoted above), this law too we derive from the above verse in Metzora. Cf. Tosefos there.
[5] As you might imagine, immersing in muddy dirty water in a pit leaves one a bit smelly so people would take showers after immersion. This led to a problem because people started thinking that it is the shower that creates the purity so the Sages outlawed taking a shower after immersion in a pit!
[6] See Mishnah Mikvaos 6:1. Talmud Pesachim 34b
[7] Talmud Niddah 30b
[8] See Shem Mishmuel Parshas Vayigash.
[9] If that is the case, why is it that women have to go to mikvah once a month after every menstrual cycle? The bleeding occurs through a natural process, and with no fault on their part? How then can we say that they immerse in the mikvah to realign, perhaps they have done nothing that would require realignment with G-d?
The answer is, that the menstruation cycle of the woman is indicative of how holy and pure she is. Because, the blood cycle is a result of Eve's involvement in the sin of the tree of knowledge (Talmud Eiruvin 100). More broadly, a woman carries the weight of the world within her, the world is a fragmented place after the tree of knowledge and this is reflected in the menstrual cycle of a woman. The blood is the result of the pain in a world which is not aligned with its source and core.
Now, the Jewish body is so holy, so tightly wound up with G-d that it cannot tolerate any sub-par materials. And since the blood is demonstrative of sin, the Jewish female body just won’t tolerate it and expels it, resulting in the blood cycle.
Another point: Many people think that a woman, who is niddah, is forbidden to be intimate with her husband because she is "impure" or "dirty." This is entirely untrue. The prohibition on intimacy is simply a function of religious law and has nothing to do with the statutes of a woman in halacha. The prohibition is a matter of issur, not tumah. (This entire themes is explained in Likkutei Sichov vol. 3 Metzora).
[10] See Sichas Purim 5731—about this story of Reb Zusha and how it was unique to him.
[11] See Likkutei Torah Ki Savo.
[12] This essay is based on Likkutei Sichos vol. 30 Noach. A letter by the Rebbe to Rabbi Yitzchak Dubov from Manchester. Sefer Halikutim under entries of Mikvah and Tevilah. CF. Waters of Eden by Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan.
- Comment
Class Summary:
This week’s portion is the source for one of the most sacred institution in Judaism—the “mikvah.”
One of the central principles of the mikvah is that man-made pools are out. Any rainwater or spring water that was collected in a vessel and then used to fill a mikvah, is disqualified. The mikvah must be filled by “heaven”—either a spring which is a natural source of water, or by having a cistern or pit filled with natural rain water without any human intervention. As a result, historically Jews either immersed in wild springs or in rainwater that had gathered in a pit. For example, the mikvahs at Masada were far from any natural spring. They presumably functioned as a cistern for rain, and the Masada residents immersed therein.
But if this is the case, you would expect almost every mikvah to be quite dirty. Yet take a look at our mikvaot and you will see how sparkling clean they are. Guess why? The water is changed daily with new fresh water coming from the faucets. But our top water is rainwater filtered in the water tanks of the city. Does that not disqualify almost every mikvah in the world today?
The answer comes through a fascinating law in Judaism, known as the “the law of the kiss,” or the connection-mechanism, in which the clean top water “kiss” or touch the rain water and as a result become kosher for mikvah.
What's going on here? Is this some sort of inside rabbinic joke? Because we don’t want to have to use the same rainy water, we are constructing this legalistic theory of the connection-mechanism? Didn’t we say a mikvah needs to be natural water that never sat in a vessel? And yet, when we dip in a mikvah we are dipping in tap water drawn from a hose in the background! Who cares about the subterranean pool of natural rainwater? That’s not the pool we're immersing in! Take a bath in your house for the same price.
This sermon explores the deeper dimensions of mikvah construction—demonstrating how the “law of the kiss” reflects our process of healing and regaining our wholesomeness in a chaotic and painful world.
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