Between Sirens and Sacred Waters

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.

Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash

But practical questions kept running through my head.

How would I get there?

How would I ensure that the women felt safe?

How would we make sure that women could still come to the mikvah and fulfill this sacred mitzvah?

I serve as a balanit in two different areas, one close to my home where several balaniot rotate shifts among the mikvaot in our community, and another that requires a twenty-minute drive.

Before my first shift after the war began, I made a quiet decision. No matter what was happening outside, the women who walked through the doors would be welcomed with warmth, as we always do. I would greet each one with a smile, show her where the safe room was located, and remind her without even needing to say the words that we are all in this together.

The evenings when we managed to open and close the mikvah without a warning or a siren felt like a real accomplishment. But then there were the nights when the alerts came.

Suddenly every phone begins making that horrifying sound the one that stops your heart for a moment.

Women who are leaving quickly decide whether to run for their cars or stay inside and wait it out. Women who are preparing try to continue calmly, hoping that maybe it will pass.

And then there is the woman already walking down the steps toward the water. A moment of pure holiness suddenly becomes a moment of decision.

Should she go in, or turn back?

It is a moment between two worlds. A moment when the war seems to decide what the next step will be. She pauses only briefly, then continues walking into the water.

“At the very least,” she says quietly, “I will be purified before the siren begins.”

She immerses quickly, whispers a prayer, and emerges.

In these moments of uncertainty, moments filled with worry for everyone and everything around us, we choose life. We choose holiness. We refuse to allow the enemy to take even this from us.

The strength and inspiration these women bring with them leaves me speechless. No matter what is happening, we find a way to come to the mikvah. We walk the extra distance, wait the extra minutes, and trust that Hashem will give us the strength to continue and to return again.

These are not easy times. None of us knows what tomorrow will bring or how long this will continue.

But one thing I do know.

As a woman completes her immersion and rises from the water for the final time, I wish her well and invite her to stay and pray for a few moments if she would like.

And as she emerges from those purified waters, I cannot help but think may we all emerge from these difficult days renewed, strengthened, and purified as well.

Nataly Weiss is a community leader and development professional living in Efrat, Israel with her husband and five children. She writes about the intersection of faith, resilience, and everyday life during times of challenge and is a graduate of The Eden Center's mikveh attendant training program, currently serving as a balanit in Efrat and Har Gilo.