One of my rabbinic roles is to running the only mikveh in the country (on Kibbutz Hanaton) that is open to all; there I create and officiate mikveh ceremonies. Despite all my doubts and questions about religion – is it a good or bad thing for humanity (especially in our times) ? – my belief in the spiritual powers of full body ritual immersion in the living water remains constant.
But despite my love for mikveh immersion, it was not easy for me to bring myself to immerse this year before Yom Kippur. I was not in a spiritual and emotional space of new beginnings. I was more in a liminal space of in-betweenness, of uncertainty, and of tension and worry about the future.
Then, the famous poet and writer, Wendell Berry, died, a week before Rosh Hashanah, and I was reminded of his famous poem:
The Peace of Wild Things
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
When I read this poem this time, I received insights and inspiration for pre Yom Kippur immersion. I took from Wendell Berry’s words the aspiration to connect with my inner peace, to the purest place within me, in order to receive strength with which to deal with whatever comes – whether I like what comes or not.
I also took from this poem the invitation to be in this unknown, to sit in the peace of wild things, in the inner peace that comes from surrendering to the unknown, to what will be, to what is not in our hands.
This does not mean stopping the work of repairing the world, but understanding our humble place in this world that needs repair, and knowing that it is not upon us to complete the task, even if we are not at liberty to refrain from doing the work.
Because that is how I see the story of Creation in the Book of Genesis, where the word “mikveh” appears for the first time in the Torah, the story that will be read this Shabbat in synagogues around the world. I see it as a story about the birth of our reality of separation and fracture.
But in the same story, God leaves us the gathering of water, the seas, to immerse ourselves, and to return to this peaceful place, the place of the divine womb with all its water and the darkness and divine spirit, where everything is united and whole.
We cannot stay there for long; we are not fish. But we can visit there from time to time and draw from our stay there strength and resilience to do the hard work of being human in an imperfect world and an unpredictable state of being alive.
As activists, we must continue to act. But we also must take the time to recharge our spiritual batteries, to recognize our minimal existence in the larger framework of the universe, and to admit that we cannot do it all.
That was my intention when I was immersed to prepare for Yom Kippur this year.
And in general, as I navigate the tense and suspenseful month ahead, I will think about this quote from the diary of Etty Hillesum, who was murdered in Auschwitz at age of 29: “Yes, we carry everything within us. God and heaven, hell and earth, life and death, and all of history. The external things are simply props. All we need is within us, and we must accept all that comes: the bad with the good. But that does not mean we cannot dedicate our lives to healing the bad, but we must know what motives drive our struggle, and we must begin with ourselves, every day anew.”
I conclude with this blessing for all of us for the New Year – the Serenity Prayer:
May we have the serenity to accept the things we cannot change,
the courage to change the things we can,
and the wisdom to know the difference.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Rabbi Dr. Haviva Ner-David is a spiritual companion, a writer, and an activist. She is founding rabbi of Shmaya: A Mikveh for Mind, Body, and Soul -- the only mikveh in Israel open to all to immerse as they choose -- where she officiates and creates mikveh ceremonies and facilitates workshops. Her spiritual companion clients include (but not only) many rabbis and rabbinical students from around the world. She is the author of three spiritual journey memoirs, two novels, and the co-author of the only children's book on mikveh. She is currently working on a memoir about these past four years of war and protests, from her point of view as an activist and spiritual seeker, and a book to help a couple plan a wedding or marriage in the spirit of Judaism.
But despite my love for mikveh immersion, it was not easy for me to bring myself to immerse this year before Yom Kippur. I was not in a spiritual and emotional space of new beginnings. I was more in a liminal space of in-betweenness, of uncertainty, and of tension and worry about the future.
Then, the famous poet and writer, Wendell Berry, died, a week before Rosh Hashanah, and I was reminded of his famous poem:
The Peace of Wild Things
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
When I read this poem this time, I received insights and inspiration for pre Yom Kippur immersion. I took from Wendell Berry’s words the aspiration to connect with my inner peace, to the purest place within me, in order to receive strength with which to deal with whatever comes – whether I like what comes or not.
I also took from this poem the invitation to be in this unknown, to sit in the peace of wild things, in the inner peace that comes from surrendering to the unknown, to what will be, to what is not in our hands.
This does not mean stopping the work of repairing the world, but understanding our humble place in this world that needs repair, and knowing that it is not upon us to complete the task, even if we are not at liberty to refrain from doing the work.
Because that is how I see the story of Creation in the Book of Genesis, where the word “mikveh” appears for the first time in the Torah, the story that will be read this Shabbat in synagogues around the world. I see it as a story about the birth of our reality of separation and fracture.
But in the same story, God leaves us the gathering of water, the seas, to immerse ourselves, and to return to this peaceful place, the place of the divine womb with all its water and the darkness and divine spirit, where everything is united and whole.
We cannot stay there for long; we are not fish. But we can visit there from time to time and draw from our stay there strength and resilience to do the hard work of being human in an imperfect world and an unpredictable state of being alive.
As activists, we must continue to act. But we also must take the time to recharge our spiritual batteries, to recognize our minimal existence in the larger framework of the universe, and to admit that we cannot do it all.
That was my intention when I was immersed to prepare for Yom Kippur this year.
And in general, as I navigate the tense and suspenseful month ahead, I will think about this quote from the diary of Etty Hillesum, who was murdered in Auschwitz at age of 29: “Yes, we carry everything within us. God and heaven, hell and earth, life and death, and all of history. The external things are simply props. All we need is within us, and we must accept all that comes: the bad with the good. But that does not mean we cannot dedicate our lives to healing the bad, but we must know what motives drive our struggle, and we must begin with ourselves, every day anew.”
I conclude with this blessing for all of us for the New Year – the Serenity Prayer:
May we have the serenity to accept the things we cannot change,
the courage to change the things we can,
and the wisdom to know the difference.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Rabbi Dr. Haviva Ner-David is a spiritual companion, a writer, and an activist. She is founding rabbi of Shmaya: A Mikveh for Mind, Body, and Soul -- the only mikveh in Israel open to all to immerse as they choose -- where she officiates and creates mikveh ceremonies and facilitates workshops. Her spiritual companion clients include (but not only) many rabbis and rabbinical students from around the world. She is the author of three spiritual journey memoirs, two novels, and the co-author of the only children's book on mikveh. She is currently working on a memoir about these past four years of war and protests, from her point of view as an activist and spiritual seeker, and a book to help a couple plan a wedding or marriage in the spirit of Judaism.