Mikveh and Meaning: An Inclusive Experience

First published in Living Jewish Life Cycle: How to Create [2] Meaningful Jewish Rites of Passage at Every Stage of Life [2] (Turner Publishing).

Perfect. Sunrise at the Jersey shore and not a soul on the beach save for Craig and his brother Dan. Craig’s second marriage will be at one o’clock. I join them on the sand beside a blissfully calm sea. Craig has been doing the traditional practice of recalling, honoring, and releasing anew any mistakes, misgivings, and stresses in his life up to this point. In the weeks and months leading up to this day he has already made and kept appointments to work through and resolve issues with people who have hurt him or whom he has hurt in the past.

Craig: “Thank you for coming. I’ve been doing my homework with family, friends, and life review.

Craig looks at me. He knows I won’t push him to share further confidences; besides his brother is present. I don’t know what if anything they share about their personal lives. Craig can continue his process internally; it need not be our business.

Craig sighs and continues. “I didn’t want to divorce ten years ago. Even when Beth said the children were being damaged by our fighting, I still didn’t want a broken family.” He began to weep, repeating, “I did not want a broken family.” Dan takes his brother in his arms.

Craig: “I couldn’t see into the future then. I couldn’t know what would come of those three years of therapy, growing by leaps and bounds in self-awareness, then dating, experimental relationships, twice again a broken heart, and finally finding someone so right, so deeply good, so kind and accepting. I couldn’t have known that Bill would come into my life. I feel so blessed. Bill recently met Beth, and they made a pact to hold Passover with all our families together whenever possible. I could not have imagined that, I saw a good in her that had been lost in all our demonizing of one another during the years leading up to the divorce. Not all my divorced friends have a good relationship with their formers, we are so blessed.”

Rabbi: “How you suffered; you did not want a divorce. You didn’t imagine that there was a healthy, happy future, a joyous life before you. Now you are blessed with a family made whole again, only differently whole.” Still he weeps, but softer. “Is there more?” I inquire. And there was. By the standards of most they were the small things like an aunt who had died before he could apologize to her for a small slight. Craig’s posture changed as he released these old memories. His shoulders were no longer hunched, his arms no long clenched at his sides. His eyes stopped darting wildly; his forehead smoothed.

Rabbi: “Is there more?”

Craig: “No, I don’t think so.”

Rabbi: “Craig, having emptied yourself, what qualities do you welcome to enter as your wedding approaches?”

Craig: “I welcome my new life; I welcome the changes that will come with shifting from living together for two years to becoming fully committed to one another. I know marrying will help me feel more secure. Bill wants my full commitment, and I am ready to give it. I know I will welcome his mom and dad as very dear relatives. Just think about it--one ritual and soon I’ll have three new sisters and brothers-in-law as well as four nieces and one step-daughter!” (Long pause)

Rabbi: “You welcome this commitment; you are ready to give it. Your life will be enriched by Bill’s family. For the first time you become an uncle and a step-father, you will have brothers- and sister-in-laws; his parents have become important to you. Is there more?”

Craig: “Rabbi Goldie, I especially welcome having learned not to force someone to do things my way – whether it be folding the sheets precisely or using canisters rather than bags for coffee. I’m now in a relationship where we both listen and converge on what’s needed for both of us to thrive.”

Suddenly Craig jumps up and spins around in circles on the beach, throwing his towel in the air. “Let’s do it! I’m ready! I’m goin’ in!” I have advised him to wade into the sea up to his waist for modesty and only then to take off his trunks. He will immerse in the most traditional form of mikvah, in a natural body of flowing water. Mikvah for marriage is a rite of releasing and rebirthing into the state of being a full hatan, a groom aligned with his highest self, one who will emerge physically, emotionally, and spiritually ready to cross the threshold into a new chapter life.

Dan and I will each midwife Craig’s birth as a hatan, a groom. Dan wades out with Craig holding a dry towel aloft. When they get to waist-deep in the ocean, I will turn my back and focus all my heart and soul on wishing him well, what people probably mean when they say ‘I’ll pray for you.’ Uh, oh. Why are they walking out so far and still the water isn’t getting deeper? Eek! Low tide, forgot to check the charts. About twenty-minutes later, Dan shouts for me to turn, pheww!

Craig: Rabbi Goldie asked me to take over the narrative from here, and I’m happy to do so. Walking into the ocean, I feel myself the soul of a sea bird ready to take flight. I had survived the trauma of divorce and worked hard to reach this stage where my life is finally so good. Striding into the warm August water reminds me the time it has taken to heal and reach this yearned-for day.

Out there, waist deep in the blessedly warm summer sea, I slip off my trunks, and hand them to Dan. I pause, letting the list of things to release quickly run through me, and I dive under a wave, trying to stay under like a baby in a womb. When I pop up, Dan shouts “kosher,” meaning that every bit of me, every strand of hair, toes, all have been immersed.

I dive again, just a human being, and pop back up. Again Dan shouts “kosher!” One more, this time I will arise a groom, as ready as I ever will be for my beloved. Like a dove released from clasped hands, my heart flies up and out with a prayer – from me, a senior attorney in a major personal property rights firm, a prayer? Go figure. “Dear God, may I be worthy of his love forever.” In and under again, this time pummeled by an incoming wave, and I emerge hatan Craig, really Yonatan, Jonathan, my chosen Hebrew name, because the Torah says King David and Jonathan, Saul’s son, loved one another. Dad, if you can hear me, someday please come back, I’m so sorry I hurt you.” “Kosher!” shouts Dan over the waves. And I was and I am and we are.

Rabbi: “Kosher.” Repeat after me, Craig, if you will, the classic blessing for this moment, I’ll translate interpretively. Baruh, here I stand at the pond of life’s blessings, atah adonai eloheynu meleh ha-olam, God-aware at the threshold of eternity, asher kidshanu b’mitzvotav v’tzivanu al ha- t’veelah, through this guidance, the mitzvah of t’veelah, immersion, I emerge to know my body, my heart, and my intentions are fully pure and kodesh, holy.”