When the war broke out over Shabbat, I wasn’t sure how we would even be able to open the mikvaot. Although it wasn’t technically my problem to solve, it weighed heavily on my mind. Somehow, I knew we would find a way. It just meant opening during our shifts and working around the sirens ensuring each mikvah had a safe room.

What happens when mikveh night collides with drinking, seuda, and Purim revelry? Can you go to the mikveh after drinking? What if one spouse is intoxicated and not aware of boundaries when in niddah?

Taharat hamishpacha and mikveh are often spoken about in the language of closeness, renewal, and anticipation. When you are going through challenges in your marriage (and/or considering divorce), those same practices can feel heavy, confusing, lonely, or even painful. The halachot themselves do not change, but the emotional landscape around them absolutely does.

Pregnancy loss and stillbirth are among the most profound and life-altering experiences a person can endure. Yet many grieving parents will say that one of the hardest parts is not only the loss itself, but the grief they have to navigate alongside going back to normal life afterwards. Friends desperately want to help, but often feel unsure what to say or do, frightened of saying the wrong thing

When I was learning to become a balanit , one of the main messages that was woven through each session is that the women who come to the mikvah are people, each with their own story. As balaniot we rarely are privy to those stories: struggle with niddah/mikvah, a fight with her husband, a sick parent, infertility, stress at work—or anything else we carry with us throughout our day.

The quiet strength of the mitzvot moves through time without noise. It does not seek approval and does not look for attention. Yet it continues. The recent discovery of a mikveh beneath the Kotel plaza belongs to this same strength.