I press the code on the door and Iâm in. My muted steps lead me to a holy place. I bend down to run my hand under the surface of the mikvah pool water. Itâs warm and Iâm relieved.
After checking that the preparation rooms are in order, I stand at the edge of the mikvah pool for a few precious moments to converse privately with Hashem, the Master of the Universe. I share my thoughts with Him and plead for my personal needs, although lately my needs have become secondary to the safety of worldwide Jewry. I daaven for victory, salvation, and of course Moshiach.
Holy places fill me with awe. I am inspired anew each time I volunteer as a mikvah attendant, especially on Friday nights, which carry an extra measure of sanctity. Silence is an offshoot of that awe. In the hushed tones of the mikvah atmosphere, I feel humbled. I greet each woman with a smile, silently blessing her. When each lady enters this holy space, my prayers and thoughts shift to her needs. My own presence recedes into the background, blending in with the tiled walls. The room takes on her aura, the tranquil waters part for her entry. Her movements cause the waters to sway, as she regains her status of taharah. As she ascends, I hold her robe high, shielding my eyes from her presence, and then I enrobe her as the Jewish princess that she is. She disappears into her room and I am alone once again.
Through this process, she has changed her status, and in acting as her attendant, I have changed mine.
In this role of giving, I temporarily set aside the basic human instinct of self. I replace it with the Torahâs higher calling of service to others. This role could be considered a form of self- nullification known as bitul. Although the term may lead one to think that it implies we are non-existent, a nobody, and powerless, this is actually not the case.
As my own experience dictates, we are more alive when we are supporting others, and when we believe in a cause that is bigger than ourselves.
Healthy âbitulâ is built into thriving relationships; between husband and wife, parent and child, boss and employee, leader and follower, or friend and friend. When a mother puts herself aside to care for her familyâs needs, she nonetheless attains a tremendous amount of satisfaction and is a bigger person as a result. When an employee works hard as part of a team, contributing to his companyâs success, or when a doctor works on healing his patient, they each gain much more than they give. So, too, by nullifying our own egos in order to fulfill Hashemâs desire for us to perform His mitzvahs, we have the satisfaction of fulfilling the purpose of the world.
I see my role as a mikvah attendant as a perfect example of bitul. Though the starring role in any mikvah experience is played by the G-d-fearing woman who fulfills Hashemâs decree to sanctify herself, my supportive position enables her to fulfill her role. I am with her in her mitzvah, and I derive great fulfilment in that.
I feel blessed to be given the opportunity to be a mikvah attendant.