To Swim in Holy Water

Last night I embarked on an adventure.

Last month, my chavruta partner and I started talking about the amazing experience we had at the mikveh when we went for our conversions, and we thought it would be wonderful to start going together before Yom Tov (holidays). We'd each independently wanted to go back for some time, but were convinced that we would meet with resistance. The mikveh (more on it in a bit) is traditionally used mostly by married women for reasons associated with menstruation and sex. As such, it has built up a lot of taboo-like associations, including a general rule that single women are "discouraged" from attending (because the community mikveh generally falls under the supervision of the local Orthodox rabbinic authority, "discouraged" could easily become "forbidden").

However, married women aren't the only ones who make legitimate use of the mikveh in traditional Judaism, as many men go to use the mikveh before Shabbat or Yom Tov. With this alternate use to back me up, I finally gathered the courage to call - and ended up leaving a message on the mikveh answering machine.

So I spent the next few days making up all sorts of worst-case scenerio conversations I figured would come up when I got a call-back. I imagined an inquisition - Was I married? How old am I? Why wasn't I married yet? Lynch doesn't sound like a Jewish name - did I convert? Orthodox? No? Well then you're not Jewish. Etc. . .

When I finally did get the call, the conversation went something like this.

Mikveh lady - "I assume your friend is also a woman?"
Me - "Yes."
Mikveh lady - "Women's hours are after 9 pm. The fee is $18. You need to make an appointment 3 days in advance."

And so that was it. No fuss. No trying to impose Orthodox practices. No judgments about why we wanted to use the mikveh. Just a very simple, matter-of-fact arrangement.

I know there are others at my congregation who have wanted to go to the mikveh for non-traditional reasons (birthdays, anniversaries, graduation from the adult bar/bat mitzvah class) - and have either been turned away (only one case that I know of) or have assumed that they would be. Hopefully, by sharing my experience with the community, the amazing experience that is the mikveh can become more accessible to those in the non-traditional streams of Judaism.

To continue the story, after making our appointment and getting directions from the mikveh scheduling coordinator, my friend and I set out to Sacramento. Here a disclaimer and a word of warning. First, although I did call three days in advance, we were told that priority had to be given to women using the mikveh for the traditional reason and that we wouldn't know until the morning of whether we would fit into the schedule or not. This turned out to not be a problem, as we ended up being the only appointment that night. Secondly, the Google maps directions to the mikveh are wrong and will take you to the synagogue 10+ miles away.

After a not too eventful trip, we found the mikveh nestled in a residential neighborhood in Carmichaeal, just a few miles from CSU Sac. The mikveh lady met us at the door, opened the place up for us, showed us around, and left us to ourselves with an exhortation to lock the door and turn off the lights when we leave.

The mikveh building itself is a tiny addition to someone's house. When you walk in, there's an itsy-bitsy waiting room that I couldn't even get in one picture without standing outside. So here's the front door and a little desk holding a few brochures on "family purity" and breast cancer self checks and a basket holding packages of bedikah cloths.

And here's the other side of the room. The door on the right leads to the bathroom - which is fully stocked with every toiletry you can imagine. The door on the left leads to the mikveh itself.

A couple of pictures of the mikvah itself.

More later . . . This post is too long!

The feeling of knowing nothing. . .

This week I received a call from a mother of two girls that I had tutored in Hebrew last spring, requesting tutoring for another one of her daughters. My exuberance about this proposition prompted a comment from one of my lab mates (you know who you are) that my teaching Hebrew would be like the blind leading the blind. As a recent (and continuing) student of the language, I understand the sentiment, and, although the dispute about my suitability for the project was congenially resolved (I won), this got me thinking about how our own perception of the limitations of our knowledge can be debilitating.

I'm currently writing my first scientific manuscript, to be released, I hope, in mid-September. Although I've been doing some of the analysis for this paper and should have quite a bit to contribute to the overall story once all is said and done, the fact remains that the project itself was initiated long before I joined the lab, and much of the analysis was done by others using methods that are at best only vaguely familiar to me. Of course this intimidates me. How am I supposed to make a coherent story, out of a bunch of disparate analyses done by a number of other people before I even showed up?

I have the same general sense of ineptitude whenever I try to talk (or write) intelligently about most scientific topics. I suppose there comes a point in your intellectual career when you realize the accumulated body of knowledge in any field is larger than you can ever hope to master. The real question then is whether to accept the paralytic fear of being wrong, or to plow ahead bravely, yet cautiously, into the intellectual unknown.

To quote (hopefully correctly) one of the pioneers of Jewish feminism:

"One must get over the feeling of knowing nothing. One simply makes a start somewhere and then continues." - Blu Greenburg

Poetry Thursday - Edna St. Vincent Millay

So I'm up late tonight and for some reason find myself with a poem I learned as a teenager stuck in my head. I looked it up online and found it on a website for "Inspirational poems: Poems about Life, Love, Success, etc." I must be missing something.

Inland 
People that build their houses inland,
People that buy a plot of ground
Shaped like a house, and build a house there,
Far from the sea-board, far from the sound

Of water sucking the hollow ledges,
Tons of water striking the shore, -
What do they long for, as I long for
One salt smell of the sea once more?

People the waves have not awakened,
Spanking the boats at the harbour's head,
What do they long for, as I long for, -
Starting up in my inland bed,

Beating the narrow walls, and finding
Neither a window nor a door,
Screaming to God for death by drowning, -
One salt taste of the sea once more?

(Edna St. Vincent Millay)

"Inspired" to do a bit of research (although not too much, mind you, it is quite late) I learn that Millay spent much of her childhood in abject poverty, and is indebted to her mother for exposing her to classical literature. In high school, Millay insisted on being called by the boy's name "Vincent" - much to the dismay of her school-teachers. In her adult years, she became known for her feminism (reflected in many of her poems), open discussion of female sexuality (likewise), and pacifism (see for example her anti-war play Aria da Capo). As if that wasn't enough non-conformity for the 20's, Millay was also openly bisexual and, after finally marrying at age 43, continued to have many lovers (as did her husband). Ah, the things they don't teach you in high school. Although thanks to a new bill now they will (at least in California).

(Disclaimer - all of this info is from Wikipedia. Trust it at your own peril.)

The long awaited (at least by me) 1st post:

I've been trying to get into blogging for a while. I'm attracted by the prospect of open dialogue with others who share my interests, and, I won't deny it - I enjoy talking about myself.

One of the things slowing me down has been the issue of anonymity. There are certainly topics that I would be more comfortable discussing under a pseudonym, and in general, I may be more cautious stating my opinions knowing that people I actually interact with may be reading this. However, beyond the issue of the immediate ramifications of being held to account for my words lies the question of long-term effects. In this day and age, young professionals such as myself must be cognizant that anything posted online (especially in social networking) may be used by prospective future employers in making hiring decisions. Although I certainly don't plan on saying anything that could hurt my future career options, it doesn't hurt to be careful.

That having been said, there are also advantages to posting under my own name. Knowing that I can be called to account, I'm likely to be more vigilant in my fact-checking, which can only be a good thing. I imagine my writing will also benefit from this (perceived) closer scrutiny. I'd probably forget a pseudonym anyway.

So after all that hullabaloo - here's to hoping I have something worth saying!