Issue: 3.02 | February 1, 2002 | by:
Andy Steiner
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Take Me to the Mikveh Like a powerful force of nature, young feminists have brought once-discarded
women’s traditions crashing back to shore for a second examination. This
relentless tide has reopened discussions on everything from the mundane
(housework and knitting) to the racy (stripping and the sex trade). More recently, interest seems to have turned to the spiritual, with women of
all religious backgrounds proudly reclaiming traditions their feminist
foremothers had all but dismissed. These traditions take many forms—from Muslim
women’s modest covering (hijab) to Christian feminists’ reawakened
passion for Mary. For many Jewish women, the latest rediscovery is the mikveh (also
mikvah), the rabbinically commanded monthly bath marking the end of a
married woman’s menstrual period and her return to sexual relations. According
to the Jewish family Web site
http://mishpacha.org , the mikveh ritual can take place in a
gathering of "living waters," a natural body of water like the ocean, a stream,
or a cistern of rainwater. Most modern mikveh, however, are pools that
combine "living water" with ordinary well or tap water in a manner specified by
rabbis. In the late ’60s and early ’70s, Jewish feminists claimed that the mikveh
and other laws dealing with niddah, or menstruation, deemed women’s
natural cycles unclean. (Under rabbinical law, married couples are forbidden to
have sexual relations during the woman’s menstrual period and for seven days
after menstruation has ceased. Some couples even sleep in separate beds during
that time.) Objecting to what they saw as the patriarchal concept of "family
purity," many feminists rejected the mikveh and the rituals that surround
it. Mikveh continued, of course, but mostly among Conservative and
Orthodox Jews. "Early feminists were very negative about the mikveh, seeing it as a
denigration of women, a focus on ‘cleanliness’ and ‘impurity’ that seemed to be
a way of keeping women from tainting men," says Shuly Rubin Schwartz, assistant
professor of American Jewish history at Jewish Theological Seminary in New York
City. "Now women are saying, ‘Wait a minute. This is a tradition that was an
important part of Judaism for our foremothers. Let’s look at the deeper
meaning.’" Danya Ruttenberg, editor of Yentl’s Revenge: The Next Wave of Jewish Feminism
(Seal, 2001), is one such woman. A self-described "egalitarian Jew," Ruttenberg
had always been both intrigued by the idea of the mikveh and turned off
by what she perceived to be the ritual’s not-so-hidden agenda. But over time, as she became more observant, Ruttenberg found herself
attracted to what she calls "the naturalistic aspect of Judaism," the faith’s
connections to the cycles of nature and the human body. Just this year,
Ruttenberg finally decided to take the plunge, so to speak, and paid a visit to
a New York City mikveh. It was a spirit-shifting experience. "I didn’t really know the blessings you’re supposed to say and I was feeling
shaky and nervous, but then I got out of the water, closed the door to the
dressing room, and suddenly felt like ‘This worked,’ "Rutenberg recalls. "It
felt like someone had dumped my soul into some really good water and then poured
it back in." More and more women are visiting mikvehs, even if they do not follow
traditional niddah laws.. In the Jewish cultural magazine Moment (April 2001), Niles Elliot Goldstein
observes: "Jewish feminists . . . have begun immersing themselves in mikveh
waters—for untraditional reasons. They use it to celebrate life cycle events
such as the onset of menstruation, midlife, or marriage, as well as in times of
grief, and as a healing ritual following sexual assault, abortion, or divorce." After years of associating the mikveh with secrecy, shame, or duty,
women seem more drawn to the ritual when they realize no one is requiring them
to go. "When mikveh is taken up by women in liberal denominations, it is not
a question of having to do anything," Schwartz says. "It’s more an attitude of,
‘I choose to embrace this because it adds meaning to my life. This is something
I’m choosing to do. It’s not because some man is telling me I have to.’ " Men also use mikveh, though for different reasons and traditionally to
a lesser degree than women. In recent years, men from liberal congregations have
formed "mikveh clubs," whose members visit the mikveh together
weekly, or before major holidays. "When I’ve gone to the mikveh and the
next day am in synagogue praying, I catch myself realizing that I’m praying
differently than I usually do," New Yorker Jerry Raik told The Jewish Week (Aug.
17, 2001). "It gives me a heightened consciousness, a greater focus." And mikveh devotees now even have their own sound track. After
bringing the house down during Eve Ensler’s star-studded V-Day bash in New York
City, Mikveh, an all-woman band, released its self-titled debut
album earlier this year to rave reviews in Rolling Stone. Clearly, mikveh is more than a trend. It represents a serious longing
for spiritual meaning, a renewed commitment to religion, and a meaningful
reinterpretation of tradition. Mikveh is "something that’s very unusual in our world today," Reform
movement rabbi Sue Ann Wasserman told The Jewish Week. "It’s not like lighting
candles or saying a blessing over a cup of wine. It’s radically different
because it requires a full body. It’s as ancient a ritual as we have, far older
than most of the rituals we observe today. It’s extraordinarily simple and
brief, but it is undeniably powerful." |
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Andy Steiner, is the associate editor of Utne Magazine. |
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