The Mikveh Lady Has Left The Building

by Tammi Levy-Cantor

It’s been a busy year for our family. Our child will be invited to and attending almost 60 Bar and Bat Mitzvahs from her classmates at the Rashi School, her camp family, our actual family, and long time friends. My husband, son, and I have also been incredibly fortunate to share in many of these celebrations. Beneath the Surface at Mayyim Hayyim for Bat Mitzvah age girls and their moms provided a welcome respite for a few evenings from this happy, but frenetic pace. It allowed us to refocus on the Bat Mitzvah year. We’ve been able to create blessings, crafts, and most importantly time together.

Tammi: What was the most memorable part of the class we took together, besides learning that we are not good at decoupage?

Lily: I liked learning the meaning of my name, and how I’m connected to the people who came before me.

Tammi: I liked the moment that we were in front of the water, we hugged, and we told each other what we wished for each other from this experience. It was a blessing of sorts. I thought it was powerful to define that out loud. What is something that you will take away from Beneath the Surface?

Lily: Getting to share a meaningful moment with my mom. We created a notebook cover with decoupage that was meaningful to both us. Even though it wasn’t pretty, it still had many aspects that were important to us.

Tammi: I loved that too. We laughed the whole time. It was so much fun to do this. We may not have done it otherwise because the weekends are so busy. It was great to create that together. Did you enjoy learning with the other girls and moms?

Lily: Yes, It was great to hear their stories about their upcoming Bat Mitzvahs and talk about that on a deeper level.

Tammi: I agree. Our group came with different backgrounds and experiences and it was nice to hear the different perspectives of what a Bat Mitzvah meant for them and their families. Will this change how you are looking at your upcoming Bat Mitzvah?

Lily: Yes, I feel much calmer about it now. I also feel excited to take part in these traditions that have been practiced for so many years.

Tammi: For me, I have always looked at the Bat Mitzvah as only one “stop” on your long Jewish journey towards solidifying a strong Jewish identity. My hope is that you, and your brother, will not only identify as Jewish – you will simply “be” Jewish, in whatever way is meaningful to you.

Beneath the Surface at Mayyim Hayyim gave us the gift of time. It allowed us to create yet another stop on this journey – another space for Jewish learning to happen. I am so incredibly grateful for this blessing.

The next session for Beneath the Surface will be offered in fall of 2017, but it’s not too early to sign up. Immersion ceremonies for Bar and Bat Mitzvah kids may be emailed upon request. Contact [email protected] for more information.

Tammi Levy-Cantor is taking a very, very extended break from her Health Policy career to stay at home with her daughter Lily, and older son Samson. She lives in Newton with her husband Michael where she volunteers and enjoys cooking, reading, spinning, and walking her Cockapoo, Kibble.

by Leah Robbins, Administrative and Marketing Assistant

Thanksgiving 2016 is over, but Hannukah is approaching, and I am still riding the thankful-train for all that Hashem has gifted me this year.

Let us review my timeline: In April I completed my undergraduate thesis at the University of Florida about Jewish feminism, during which time I became enamored with the mikveh. My research about niddah observance and feminist interpretations of the mikveh became a sport – I couldn’t get enough. The words of my learned Jewish sisters would jump off the pages, sparking a fire in me that would soon take over my life. They’d write: “Under the waters of the mikveh the shackles of our mortality can be dissolved – we regain the pristine spiritual connection with God that existed in the Garden of Eden.” “The potent force of the mikveh reunites our bodies with the primordial forces of Creation.” Have you ever heard something so beautiful? I hadn’t!

Fast forward to some rapid, major life transitions: In June I moved from the deep South to Boston where I would encounter an extraordinary Jewish community made up of as many Jews and Judaisms as letters of the Aleph-Bet. During this time I was lucky enough to be welcomed to into the fold of the Mayyim Hayyim staff, an experience that would forever change how I relate to my own Judaism and other Jews. One Jewish institution where Jews across generations, gender identities, sexual orientations, ethnic identities, and spectrum of Halacha observance find refuge within its walls?… where I’m from that’s a miracle of biblical proportions.

Somewhere along this wild ride, my brand new home suffered a devastating fire that displaced myself, my friends, and my partner. Without question, without hesitation, the entire Mayyim Hayyim community ran to my rescue, raising funds, securing generous housing, gathering replacement clothes and creature-comforts. I did not even have time to panic that my new life had quite literally gone up in flames because Mayyim Hayyim was unconditionally there for me in a desperate time, as I know it has been for many of you.

It is now December and as Hannukah peeks over the horizon, I am reminded that I don’t necessarily need the overpriced stand mixer I have been eyeing for years. I don’t need an array of HomeGoods tchotchkes to dot the walls of my newly settled home. Everything I really need is already at Mayyim Hayyim – heart, holiness, and haimish hospitality.

As I look around and count my many blessings, I am proud to say that my adventure at Mayyim Hayyim is on the top of the list. I invite you to enjoy the many gifts that Mayyim Hayyim has to offer this coming Hannukah. Give an immersion gift certificate to a loved one, treat yourself to an immersion, or give a gift today.

Leah Robbins joined the Mayyim Hayyim team in June 2016. She is enjoying her first ever snowfall and warmly welcomes survival tips for the bitter Boston winter ahead.

by Tamar Duke-Cohan

I happened into a public bathroom a few evenings ago. As I entered, a woman flew out of the first stall, ran into another and banged the door shut. I could hear her muttering and sobbing over the phone. Although I could not understand the words because she was speaking in another language, it was clear what had happened; she had left the door of the first stall open, and it was evident that the hope for a pregnancy – the prayers for a child – were over. I stood there for a just second listening to those awful sobs – tears of despair and the loss of hope, of disappointment and grief. After I left, those desperate, whispered sobs stayed with me for many hours.

That evening I was guiding a bride through her first immersion in preparation for her wedding (I volunteer at Mayyim Hayyim). After the ceremony, she came out of the mikveh room, dripping in a white bathrobe, to where her female relatives were waiting. Three generations of women jumped and hugged and laughed and cried. These were very different tears – ones of hope, and satisfaction, and unutterable joy. These were tears from the other side of the crevasse of the human experience. It was a wondrous thing.

As I drove home it occurred to me how much these tears actually had in common – there was someone on the other side of that phone in that bathroom; maybe a mother or sister who was supporting and loving that poor woman in her moment of despair. This person was just like the bride’s relatives – someone who cares.

I also thought about how lucky I am because there are so many people in my life who care about me and would carry me across any crevasse – my husband and sons, my mother, sister, and nieces, my closest friends, my god-daughters, and many other friends – all amazing people. I know it’s a truism and a cliché, but I think it’s worth remembering that it’s the people in our life who give it meaning, and it is they who carry us across the crevasse.

Newton resident Tamar Duke-Cohan has been a Mikveh Guide since since 2005 when she participated in the second class of training. She is a member of Temple Beth Zion in Brookline and is an avid Torah reader.

by Carrie Bornstein, Executive Director

Last week a 12-year old girl decided to immerse at Mayyim Hayyim prior to becoming a Bat Mitzvah. As is the often the case, she led the way by bringing in her step-mother and grandparents, all of whom were skeptical about visiting a mikveh. Resolute in her plans, she calmly maintained her wishes and turned her family of skeptics into fans.

Now multiply this story by 1,439 others like it that happened in the past year thanks to our many supporters, who ensure that Mayyim Hayyim can thrive each year.

On the heels of Thanksgiving weekend, there is much that our community has to be grateful for. Here’s a taste:

This past year Mayyim Hayyim built up our marketing efforts, getting the word out so we will no longer be known as Boston’s “best kept secret.” In the past few weeks we’ve engaged more than 40 families with young children in new programming out in Waltham and Sharon. More than 90 people (over half of them young adults) joined us for programming to get ready for the High Holidays this fall. We released a new film featuring best practices in conversion and our Beyond the Huppah curriculum for engaged and newlywed couples. We also created a new version of our Seven Kavanot for Mikveh Preparation – a picture guide accessible to those for whom the written word is a stumbling block.

And in the year ahead we’ll engage even more families with young children through educational programming in Boston and Arlington, we’ll publish new immersion ceremonies as well as a special healing guide for those on a fertility journey. Finally, Mayyim Hayyim will launch a national network of like-minded mikva’ot so we can move towards the day when your friends and family in other cities around the country can access a Mayyim Hayyim-like experience no matter where they are.

Mayyim Hayyim represents the things I know we all want for our world: a spiritual home for celebration and healing, a space where being Jewish is a place of great pride, a place that values and cultivates women’s leadership, welcomes the stranger, educates our children to understand differences, and values the importance of mindfulness and self-care through marking transitions with ritual.

For all this, and for each one of you on the wider Mayyim Hayyim team who makes this work possible through financial support at all levels, I am truly grateful.

Jump on the #GivingTuesday bandwagon with us and make your gift to Mayyim Hayyim.

Carrie Bornstein is Mayyim Hayyim’s Executive Director. She and her husband, Jamie, live in Sharon, MA with their three children, four chickens, and one dog.

by Jenna Margolis

I was little when my cousin converted to Judaism, but I distinctly remember watching my aunt hold her own breath as she released her new baby into the water. After several dunks in the Mayyim Hayyim mikveh, the child was Jewish, according to our rabbi. My family rejoiced, my aunt breathed again, and I—being the eldest grandchild—received a JP Licks gift card. I don’t remember from whom, but it meant the mikveh was fun!

When I was twelve, my sixth-grade class at Solomon Schechter was studying mikvaot. We took a trip to Mayyim Hayyim to see our study in action. I had forgotten by then that this was the place of my cousin’s conversion, but walking in, I recognized it. It struck me how beautiful the facility was: the pools were peaceful and the color-scheme soft. I thought to myself: “Immersion here must be so meaningful.”

The day before my Bat Mitzvah, I immersed at Mayyim Hayyim. It was awkward—most things are at that age—but still a pleasant experience. I enjoyed the heated tiles in the bathroom, and as I dunked in the pool, my guide assured me that all my immersions were kosher. The following morning, I made no horrendous mistakes in front of our four hundred guests as I read Torah and led the morning service. I guess something in the purification process really worked…

Sometime in early ninth grade, I auditioned over the phone for a part in a monologue to be performed at a Mayyim Hayyim fundraiser. I was unable to connect to the piece, but I tried to put feeling into the words nevertheless. I imagine I was a tad too theatrical as a result. Suffice it to say I did not get the part.

In March of 2015, through one of the programs run by my school, Gann Academy, I took another class trip to Mayyim Hayyim with a focus on women and the mikveh. Being the angry feminist that I am, the visit solidified my newly formed opinions regarding niddah (you know—that it is Judaism’s way of further making women’s bodies seem impure).
The following summer, my camp (which is out in Palmer) took a trip into Boston, and on the way we stopped at Mayyim Hayyim. As I was given a tour of the place for the third time, I detailed to my friend my frustrations with the practice of niddah. Also lobbying for gender equality, she shared my sentiments. But the next week, we both found out her mother practiced niddah. “I still won’t do it,” my friend clarified, “but my mom explained that it’s not a matter of making menstruation seem impure. For her, it’s just a way to ritually and emotionally shed the exhaustion and discomfort that comes with periods.”

A few weeks ago, a group of Israeli students came to visit my junior class at Gann Academy. We spent several days exposing them to the U.S. and its Jews. Naturally, Mayyim Hayyim was one of our many field trips. I was practically squirming with the right answers to all the questions we were asked about mikvaot. As we rotated through the educational stations, I couldn’t help but admire the serene architecture surrounding the pools. “Whether it’s my thing or not,” I thought to myself, “immersion here must be extremely meaningful.”

Jenna Margolis is an animal-loving student activist at Gann Academy in Waltham. In her minimal free time, she enjoys binge-watching 30 Rock with one of her younger brothers, blasting show tunes, and googling pictures of corgis. She lives in Newton, MA with her family.

by Lori Kramer, Office Manager

Recently my youngest child and I had the opportunity to attend the Mayyim Hayyim program Water Wonders at the Moose Hill Wildlife Sanctuary. Through science experiments, stories, and hands-on play, the participants learned all about the transformative power of water. I decided I would enlist the help of a very opinionated seven year-old for some feedback.

“Hey Ellie – I am writing a blog post about Water Wonders. What was your favorite part?”

“The skittle thing in the cloud was amazing! We need to buy skittles!” (The children set up skittles on a plate and placed water in the middle, observing how the water created a physical change, melding the colors together.)

“What else did you learn?”

“It was a very interesting place because I learned that water changes everything. Like by doing experiments and stuff – it was so cool! I loved getting to meet other kids too. I think the next one is going to be about really fun stuff! I hope my new friend will be there!”

“Thanks Ellie, is there anything else you want to share about the program?”

“Ema, it makes me want to write a poem:
Love is like a shooting star
Love is like a glowing heart
Love is like peace
Love is like kids playing
Love is like birds chirping
LOVE ”

With my seven year-old’s glowing recommendation, how could you not join us for the next program about Transitions and Time? Sign up here for the next Water Wonders at Moose Hill Wildlife Sanctuary on Sunday, December 11. Can’t make it? Water Wonders will be offered again at the JCC in Arlington in April 2017. We’ll see you there!

This program is made possible through a grant from PJ Library, a program of the Harold Grinspoon Foundation.

Lori Kramer feels very fortunate to be a member of this team of hardworking women at Mayyim Hayyim. She lives in Woonsocket, RI with her four kids and her husband.

by Cassie Seinuk

One night I went out to walk my dog, placed my foot on the step outside my door, and tripped, stumbling down four concrete steps, landing heavily on my left arm. The pain was sharp, and loud, and I knew something was broken, especially when I tried to stand and couldn’t. After a long night in the hospital, my husband and I anxiously waiting the x-ray results, I found out that I had not broken a bone – I had broken six bones – five in my right foot and one in my left elbow. This would be the beginning of a very long recovery. On top of it all, my play From the Deep was heading to the New York International Fringe Festival, and I needed to be able to travel, climb stairs, and navigate the city. Here I was in the worst pain of my life, confined to a wheelchair. There was no time for me to stop and recover. But I had to listen to my body, and give myself space to heal. It was a bumpy road, and not at all how I planned my New York premiere to be.

I was about to face an already difficult challenge of producing my own show, and I was going to have to rely on others for nearly everything. I couldn’t walk, stand, or climb stairs. I couldn’t get dressed on my own, bathe on my own, or comb my own hair. I needed help cutting my food, opening doors, and getting into my car.

As an able bodied person for my whole life, I had taken these small tasks for granted, and now my helplessness was hitting hard. Emotionally, I was a wreck. I’ve always had a hard time with lack of control. As a survivor of abuse, feeling like I have control of my body has been something I’ve struggled with, but it is deeply important to me. Not only was my lack of control highlighted by my fall, but suddenly I had gone from being perceived as a strong, confident person, to someone who was fragile and in constant need of help. I felt this more around men and strangers. People were constantly asking to carry me up the stairs at the theater or train station. No, thank you! I was determined to go up those stairs backwards on my bum, hoisting myself up with one arm and one leg like a lopsided crab. I didn’t want to rely on others, nor did I want to feel like a child being carried – let alone allowing strangers to touch me. And the more people asked to help me, the smaller I felt. I wanted to crawl inside some dark cave, and not come out until I was healed, until I was me again.

Ten weeks after I fell, I started walking again, carefully and with a limp. It was freeing, it was great, but I still felt I was holding on to the feeling of being small, of being helpless, of being trapped. My second day on my feet the teachers at my school, Kesher, and I went across the parking lot for a field trip to Mayyim Hayyim. I had been to a mivkeh before three years ago, the Friday before my wedding. I come from a Modern Orthodox family in New York, though I lead my life steeped in pluralism and egalitarianism now. There was an atmosphere to the mikveh in my home town that made me feel uncomfortable; I felt judged. That mikveh felt very clinical, and without spirit or kavanah (intention) behind the rituals. It was quick and awkward and I was done – never to return to a mikeh, that is, until I visited Mayyim Hayyim.

This past month I went to Mayyim Hayyim not only to participate in the monthly immersion, but mostly to use one of their rituals for beginning a new life chapter and healing. I wanted to shed off these feeling from my fall, the feelings that remained in my gut and heart lingering after this small, but potent, suffering. I also wanted to ask God for healing, to not only heal my bones, but my spirit. Each part of getting ready for immersion at this mikveh came with an instruction card, and each instruction told you not only what to do but what to think about, what intention to have, and how to find the beauty in each step.

The beauty of looking at my own eyes as I removed any makeup, the beauty of my hair as I combed it out, and the beauty in being happy with myself and body as I am. This was not the cold, sterile experience I had before my wedding. This was peaceful, relaxing, and inspiring. I left the mikveh that night feeling excited for my life post-fall, and the emotional pain felt lighter. I now look forward to my next mikveh visit, finding power not only in the renewing waters but in the intentions we give to them.

Cassie M. Seinuk is a Jewish Cuban playwright and AEA stage manager with an MFA in Writing for Stage and Screen from Lesley University. Seinuk’s play From the Deep is the second place recipient of the 2014 Latinidad Playwrights Award at The Kennedy Center American College Theatre Festival, the 2014 winner of the Pestalozzi Prize for best New Play at the Firehouse Center for the Arts New Work Festival, and was a “must see” at the 2016 New York International Fringe Festival. She was a Next Voices Fellow 2015-2016 at New Repertory Theatre, and is a proud member of the Dramatists Guild.  She teaches at Kesher Newton.