Mikveh

In and out I rose above the water, my mouth gulping air, and then immersed myself again, my body suspended in the water's embrace. I felt held between worlds, like a child playing in the waters of a square womb. Our life begins in water, our first world where we float in the currents of birth and growth. I was a woman and a child at once, going in and out of the waters of birth.

Why do I begin with a personal narrative from a woman in the midst of the ritual immersion known as mikveh? Because mikveh is more than a religious ritual, it is a cultural construction that allows women to engage in body work. Sherry Ortner wrote, "Culture's project is to subsume and transcend nature, if women were considered part of nature, then culture would find it natural to subordinate them." I disagree with her idea that culture can exist independently of nature, and this paper will respond to Sherry Ortner by arguing that nature and culture can unite in a single space to construct a form of ritual power for women.
I chose to focus on the mikveh because the ritual is a Judaic practice that centers on the female reproductive cycle, and as a Jewish woman, I feel a personal connection to the research. In searching for another site that recognized the intersection of body work and culture, I decided that the modern American spa would be the most pragmatic choice. Drawing on ethnographic and secondary research, this paper will explore the significance of each ritual, the form of body work that takes place, and how knowledge and power exist in this construction of private space.

Methodology

The ethnography on which this paper is based was collected through observation and participation at a spa and mikveh. Out of concern that participating in the mikveh for research purposes would be fraudulent, I chose not to participate in the ritual. In lieu of first hand knowledge I met with the mikveh lady at Adais Israel, the largest conservative synagogue in Washington D.C. She showed me the mikveh and answered a multitude of questions about the construction of the mikveh space, the ritual, and the meaning behind it. Fortunately (for me), I had no qualms about indulging in a few spa treatments in the name of research. I chose to attend the Aveda Spa in Georgetown because of its reputation for "representing the new ideal in beauty, uniting outward appearance with an inner sense of well being." And because they pride themselves on blending "pure plant and flower ingredients and ancient rituals and inspiration. We offer the kind of care that brings forth a radiant glow from within, through personal reflection, as well as expert service."
In a discussion about the nature of my research, the issue of whether men participated in these institutions as raised, and I was fortunate enough to meet with a gentleman who routinely uses the spa and was kind enough to share his experiences with me. My hope is that the use of ethnographic research does justice to the practice and significance of mikveh and spa treatments.

The Spa Experience

I had been in a bad mood that day and ironically the thought of having to go to a spa in the name of research did not cheer me up. The first thing I noticed upon entering the spa was the little fountain to my left that was pouring water into a little bed of rocks. Past the fountain were a make-up counter, mirrors, and shelves of oils and powders, all neatly arranged in little colored jars and bottles. The entire right wall was filled with shelves of hair care products, body lotions, scrubs, and aromatherapy treatments, similarly packaged. Photographs hung high up over the shelves, depicting various nature scenes, green fields and meadows, rainforests, waterfalls, all designed to make you think peaceful, relaxed thoughts. I walked to the counter and told them my name and who I was there to see and why. I was offered herb tea and instructed to wait while my spa worker finished up with another client. I wandered around, picking up jars that had contents of lavender, eucalyptus, tea tree, berries, chamomile, peppermint, lemongrass, rose, jasmine, and orange: all natural ingredients designed to promote wellness. They called my name and I followed a girl with short brown hair through the hair care salon and down the stairs into what I presumed would be the spa.

The lights in the hallway were dimmed and various scents wafted out from the open rooms. I was led into a dimly lit room that smelled of warm lavender and heard soft music playing. On the left was a long narrow table with white sheets and on the counter behind it was another series of little bottles, jars, and towels. On the right was a cart containing small basins and containers holding substances and textures I couldn't identify. I was instructed to undress completely and lie down on the table, face down with the sheet pulled up over me. I did as I was told and a few minutes later, I heard a soft knock as the woman notified me that she would be entering. She introduced herself, confirmed that I would be receiving the body polish and began to pick up little bottles, asking me to find a scent I liked. After three or four smells I wasn't crazy about, I decided on a bottle that had the faint smell of magnolias. She told me that the scent would be mixed into my treatment. I put my head down and waited for my rejuvenation to begin.

Picking up my right arm, she poured what I can only identify as a warm oil-like substance that she lightly rubbed into my skin to soften it. She followed it with something that felt like sand or salt. She worked the pumice into my arm, massaging it through the crevices of the muscles, into each pore of my skin. Then she poured what felt like warm water, though it had a texture like baby oil, on my skin to rinse off the salt. Then she laid a hot towel against my arm and the combination of the heat and moisture made every part of my arm uncoil and relax. She repeated the same technique on the other arm, my legs and then my back. She lifted the sheet and instructed me to flip over. Under normal circumstances that would have been simple except that the treatment had made me very lethargic and it took a minute to comprehend and comply with her directions. She performed the treatment on my feet, thighs, and stomach and ended at the point where my neck and shoulders meet. As a final treat, she rubbed lotion all over my body to remove the last vestiges of the pumice and re-hydrate my skin. With each motion she performed, my body relaxed and I let go of whatever tension I had been feeling and drifted off into a blissful calm. She said I could stay on the table a few minutes before getting up and dressing. I hated having to sit up and endure the task of re-dressing. I was so content to lie on that table indefinitely. According to the brochure, the body polish is "an exfoliation treatment to smooth the skin, eliminate surface impurities, and replenish moisture, leaving skin baby soft." What it doesn't' tell you is how wonderfully relaxed and calm you feel upon completion.

My second trip to the spa was for a thirty-minute focus massage that I desperately needed to relieve the tension in my neck and shoulders. I was so wound up that I had been unable to move my neck for two days. When I phoned to make the appointment, I was asked if I preferred a male or female masseuse. I requested male believing that the arm strength of a male masseuse would serve me better in a deep tissue massage. When I walked in to the spa, I was introduced to Scott, a very tall, muscular man and for a brief moment, I questioned my choice. Not because there would be any suggestion of impropriety, but the thought of being so naked and exposed to a stranger made me nervous. Again, I was escorted downstairs and led into another little room and given the same instructions as before. Upon returning to the room, he asked me where my tension was and if I could describe the pain. I informed him of my ailment and in an almost pleading manner asked if he could help by focusing on my neck and shoulders. He asked me about my health care regiment, if I worked out, what I thought the source of my tension might be and the first few minutes of the treatment we engaged in gossip and conversation. Unlike my first treatment, this one had a very specific motive: relief of pain. He began by pouring massage oil on my upper back and gently working it through my muscles to get a sense of how tight they were. His hands felt very soft and as he started to work on my shoulder he told me to tell him if he was putting too much physical pressure on it. Apart from out initial conversation and the occasional comment, I made a conscious effort not too talk in order to fully relax. But in those first few minutes, I was tremendously aware of how vulnerable I was, not because he was a man, but because of the power and knowledge he possessed to help fix me. He rubbed and kneaded, unwound and uncoiled some spots, put acupressure on others to release the tension and found ways to dig into the deepest, tightest parts of my back and neck. My memory of the massage is vague because I am not entirely sure what he physically did to my body. However, I do know that after forty-five minutes, I could move my neck and the knots and tension had noticeably diminished.

The spa experience, from the environment to the techniques employed to engage in the body, gave me the chance to mentally escape from my life by letting someone else devote their time and attention to the needs of my body.

The Mikveh

The first step in attending the mikveh is that you must make an appointment with the mikveh lady. I meet Lisa Klein, the mikveh lady, in the lobby of the temple and she escorts me downstairs. My first thought is that the mikveh looks more like the locker room in a gym. The whole room is tiled and the sound of our voices reverberates off the walls, making for some strange acoustics. The room is sectioned off into a preparation space and the mikveh itself. On the left is the preparation space that contains a shower, a mirror and a long counter with q-tips, cotton balls, alcohol, peroxide, nail polish remover, lotion, baby oil, soap, shampoo, toothpaste, tooth picks. To the right is a railing and if you look over it, you realize that the mikveh is about a foot below you and that to get in, you have to walk down three steps. The mikveh looks like a small rectangular pool but the composition of the water is not what you would find in a swimming pool. The mixture is made up of chlorinated tap water and rainwater. On the right wall is what can only be described as a mail slot through which the rainwater, collected on the roof, is pumped in and stored in the Bor (a square like tub built into the floor that holds 40 se'ah or 191 gallons of rain water). For a mikveh to be constructed according to Halakhah specifications it must either take place in living waters, a natural body of running water like an ocean, river, or rain, or combine living water with tap water. The water of the mikveh cannot be drawn or brought to the mikveh through direct human intervention. The water cannot be channeled to the mikveh through anything that can be unclean like a pipe made of metal, clay or wood. The mikveh is large enough so that if you stand in the middle of it, there is about be three feet of water all around you.

Before you can enter the mikveh, you must be physically clean so that there is nothing between you and the water. In preparation, you must shower or bathe for thirty minutes prior and remove anything and everything from your body. According to Lisa, if you weren't born with it you must take it off which explains all the tools in the preparation space. That means no make-up, polish, loose skin or scabs, band-aids, jewelry (including earrings, wedding rings, piercings), contact lenses, and the hair must be pulled up. So specific are the preparations that women are asked to clean the lint out of their belly button and the wax from their ears.
Once you have been inspected to ensure cleanliness, you may enter the mikveh water. To participate in the ritual, you must have a shamaran (witness) to ensure that the mikveh is performed properly. For the first immersion your feet cannot touch the bottom and your hands cannot touch the sides so that for that one moment you are surrounded and suspended by water. Upon surfacing, a prayer is uttered (though Lisa is kind enough to offer a variety of prayers, most use the bracha), followed by a second and sometimes third immersion. The mikveh lady witnesses and waits nearby holding the robe or towel to hand you upon emergence from the mikveh. Though it may not be a common practice, if Lisa recognizes the individual as a regular participant she will exit and allow them to stay in the water and relax for a few minutes. Lisa describes participation in the mikveh as a cathartic experience because it is a chance to "leave behind what you need and center yourself," much like my experience at the spa.

The Mikveh's Significance

The practice of the mikveh carries tremendous religious and cultural significance for the Jewish woman. According to Jewish family purity laws, married women must immerse themselves in the mikveh on the seventh day following the end of their menstruation in order to be free of ritual impurity. The mikveh is primarily practiced by orthodox and conservative Jews though more women have begun to participate in it. According to Leviticus 15, the menstruant was considered a source of ritual pollution and therefore unfit to come into contact with the sanctity of the temple. Her pollution was contagious and contact with her or anything she touched made one tameh (impure) and unfit for contact with the sacred. But the development of the mikveh practice also came from a desire to sanctify relations between a husband and wife. According to the Bible, the mikveh took place upon completion of menstruation but during the Rabbinic period of the second century, the period of tameh was extended to twelve days: five for the menses, and seven clean days during which there is no vestige of blood. The rabbis concluded that "being in constant contact with his wife, a husband might develop a loathing towards her…therefore let her be unclean for seven days in order that she shall be beloved by her husband." Therefore, all sexual relations and anything that might lead to relations were prohibited until the woman immersed herself in the mikveh. This attention to marital relations is the primary reason that the practice of mikveh was originally restricted to married women. However, in the resurgence of the practice by modern day women, marital status has become less relevant.

This renewal of tradition has led to a re-interpretation of the cultural and spiritual significance of mikveh. Some say that participation marks a transition of time and season, a marking of physical and spiritual transformation. "Like the separation of the waters, we distinguish between one moment and another in the flow of time. In some moments we are conscious of transformation and re-enter the waters of separation for renewal…reflecting and altering our consciousness of our act of immersion, we say blessings to separate the moment." According to Lisa, participation in the physical act of mikveh constructs a ritual space that marks a changing of realms.

For some women, mikveh invokes a spiritual connection to the ancestors by engaging in a practice that women have been doing for thousands of years. For others, mikveh is about getting in touch with your body and reflecting on the associations of life and death that are found in the menstrual blood.
Judaism has a series of rituals that honor the cycles of nature and the human body. There are rituals to honor the harvest, the new moon, the cycles of the tides, and for women, there is the belief that the female body is intrinsically connected to the natural world. "Women appear to be rooted more directly and deeply in nature." The mikveh ritual that marks the cycle of woman's body works like the seasons, scripting a change on the female body.

During the course of our meeting, I asked Lisa if women had practical difficulties in participating in mikveh. She told me that many women often find it inconvenient because of the scheduling constraints and physical preparations necessary to participate. "When you have to put two kids to bed, and you have supper to make, and stuff for work to prepare, and you have leave home and you are going to be gone for an hour to go to the mikveh, there are definitely disadvantages and you would rather stay at home and do your work." She told me about a friend who finds the time and energy to attend the mikveh and the rigors of preparation very taxing, but once there she embraces it as "the only time [when] she can be in the tub for 30 minutes. It's her chance to carve a little bit of time for herself." That is why Lisa will often let women stay in after immersion: so that they can savor the moment and relax.

Like Lisa's friend, many women who participate in mikveh find it is their only opportunity to get away from the stress of everyday life. "Before health spas, retreats, transcendental meditation or visualization, the Torah told women with little personal time or space: be selfish and go to a mikveh. Get away from the commotion of life." Here we begin to see how a woman draws personal strength from the mikveh, as she describes the warmth and privacy of a peaceful bath as the only chance to have some space for her.

Spa Significance

The idea of giving attention to one's body is an ancient one, found in Diocles Regimen, "From the massages that should immediately follow getting up from bed, in order to reduce the stiffness of the body, to the positions to take in bed when it is time to lie down, all the important moments of the day are examined, with the baths, the rub downs, the oilings." Foucault characterized this care for the body as a dietic, "a matter of regimen aimed at regulating an activity that was recognized as being important for health." For the Greeks, participation in the spas was a necessity because it was a regimen of wellness for the body and mind. This Greek notion that care for the body helped attain a state of mental wellness it what I found at the Aveda Spas. "Finally she spends time on herself and her body, scrubbing and smoothing to a clean glow that gives an unmistakable aura of well-being." So why did I feel indulgent, almost ashamed, for going to the spa? Perhaps the reason lies in a perception constructed by the outside world that any attention to the body is decadent. But we are an image conscious society and the media tells us that women must look good and work hard, only it must not seem like they put forth an effort to work on their bodies. Would a spa treatment be so devalued in a culture that recognizes body work?

The hammam or public baths of Morocco are one such site, an intersection of body work and social space that is embraced by the community. The traditional bath takes two to three hours, a group experience of talk and laughter while they rub, scrub and massage themselves and each other. "A common site at the hammam is a woman lying relaxed on the floor while another kneels over her, lifting her arm or turning her over, scrubbing away the old skin. One smiles, and eyes closed, she gives herself up completely to the other's ministrations." When someone leaves the hammam, she says b'sahahtik l'hammam, a blessing that means to the health of you and your bath. In Morocco, going to the hammam is not viewed as an indulgence of the body, but is a site of earned pleasure and attention to the body.

I know for the first time how the skin folds over my elbow and how it disappears into a dimple behind my knee. How the spill of my stomach is guarded on either side by the angular thrust of my pelvic bones. Every protrusion, each folded crevice, is sought out and attended to. Safia turns on the water and collects it in a bucket, which she pours over my body. Now says the older woman, I will rub oil into your body, you will carry its fragrance through the first night into the second.

In addition to body work, one of the culturally dictated norms of the hammam is the unspoken understanding that it is a female space.

The Y factor in female space

In truth, men are accepted in the hammam, but only as small children. When boys reach a certain age, the curtain between male and female space is drawn and they are no longer able to pass through. "Many men talk about the hammam of their early childhood as a lost paradise: they accompanied their mothers into this humid, hot space, peopled by magical female bodies. And then one day it had come to pass that they stop accompanying their mother and resign themselves to enter the world of men."

Similarly, the mikveh takes place within a female space, a place with clines clearly drawn where women are outside of the male gaze. In Judaism, the mikveh is practiced with tsniut or modesty, meaning it s shielded from the eye of the outsider. This outsider is anyone (but usually refers to men) that is excluded from the ritual space and its knowledge. But in some instances, men do trespass into this gendered realm, and I wish to address the consequences of that act. What happens when men become participants in spas and mikvehs? Does the significance of the ritual change?

For men, participation in the mikveh is considered custom rather than law. A man may go to the mikveh on his wedding day to signal his change in status, and many Orthodox men attend before Yom Kippur, one of the High Holy days. Though there are instances of male participation in mikveh, it is primarily thought of as a female activity. In fact, Lisa told me that often times when men accompany their wives to the mikveh they are unsure of what to expect and feel as though they are not supposed to be there. While the motions of the ritual may be the same, the significance is quite different for men because the ritual does not evoke the personal, bodily transformation that it does for women.

While the gendered space of the hammam and mikveh is culturally defined, there is no such definitive barrier for men to attend a spa, and yet most men chose not to go. Why? What makes it so difficult for them to transcend that space? To answer that question, and learn how the experience of the spa would be different for a man than it was for me, I interviewed a young man named Ben who shared his experiences and insights into the male spa experience. His first experience at a spa was on his honeymoon when he accompanied his wife for a facial, massage, and seaweed wrap. When he walked into the room where he was to receive his massage and saw the dimmed lights and music he became nervous about what was going to be done to him. But after the initial apprehension wore off and he lay on the table, he claims to have found it relaxing. He told me that no matter how many times he has since gone, when he first enters he gets the sense that he doesn't belong there much like the feeling of the men who entered the mikveh. It is as if he is trespassing in a space that is delineated as exclusively female, making him the outsider or anomaly. He told me that when he mentions his experiences to friends, they find it humorous because they cannot understand his reason. He says his friends would never do it because they believe it is unmanly and perceive it to be an exclusively feminine practice. He goes the spa when he has a particular need, like backaches or foot pain, just like I did when I went for my massage. But in the course of our conversation, it seemed to me as though he was trying to explain his spa treatments by suggesting that there was a tangible reason for his participation. I know that I enjoy attending a spa for the psychological effect of escaping the burdens of everyday life and feeling pampered. Based on our conversation, I concluded that men are reticent to attend spas for the same reason that I was nervous to have the male masseuse work on me: having someone work on your body necessitates a certain vulnerability and openness.

The mikveh lady

In each setting, the participation of the mikveh lady or spa worker has a deep effect on the experience. Though the responsibilities of each worker are different, they both possess an intimate knowledge that creates a very distinct power relationship.

I asked Lisa if she acts as a witness when a man participates in mikveh, and she told me that the witness must be the same sex as the participant in order to maintain modesty and ensure the dignity of the experience. When a man comes to the mikveh, he must bring his own male witness. Since this paper is primarily concerned with the experiences of women in the mikveh, I chose to focus on the experience of the mikveh lady.

The mikveh lady is there to ensure that the ritual is done properly and to assist the woman in any way. "Esther is the vision of maternal comfort, all softness and amorphous folds. As she speaks, directing me to my private bathroom, I feel my shoulders relax and my facial muscles loosen. I feel very safe." Because of the intimate nature of the ritual, the mikveh lady has to evoke a feeling of trust. She does this by creating an unspoken understanding between herself and the participant that says: I am here to help you and take care of you.

Because the experience of the mikveh is so deeply personal and intimate, the mikveh lady who bears witness to it posseses a form of ritual power and knowledge Standing in the mikveh room at Addis Israel, I imagined what Lisa's experience might be like as she watches women immerse themselves in the water below. This woman in the mikveh is completely naked and open, with nothing between her and the water and no else present but the mikveh lady. "Knowledge leads to power-the power to make socially recognized judgments regarding halakhah, and to purity, without knowledge of Jewish law one cannot attain a proper state of ritual purity." In the mikveh, the lady who knows the language of the ritual, who determines its legitimacy, and who witnesses the transformation of the woman engaged in mikveh possesses an incredible power. The mikveh lady represents what Foucault called the matrices of transformation by appropriating knowledge through observation of this intimate ritual.

The worker in the spa

In the spa, the workers who perform my body polish and massage also possess this intimate knowledge because they work on the crevices and folds of my skin and know my body in its most naked, pure form. There are no pretensions, no make-up or material to hide the flaws, failings and imperfections of the body. Lying on a table, the hands that worked on me knew the private me, the one no one else sees, rather than the body that I show to the world. In this most private of public spaces, these unadorned bodies are undergoing purification, a detoxification of the skin, muscles, and bones to which no one else is privy. Though no words were spoken between myself and the woman who performed the body polish, I felt so very connected to her for taking care of me, for taking me apart and putting me back together.

I do find that my interaction and experience in the spa varies according to the sex of the worker. When Scott, the masseuse and I spoke prior to my massage, I realized that by listening to my problems, asking about my general well being and offering advice to make me feel better, he was adopting a female role. I think that in such an intimate space, he recognizes that there are distinct boundaries and that playing a role ensures that I feel comfortable and safe. When I was on the table, he was not a man working on a woman's body, but a worker engaging in body work. I asked Ben if he noticed a difference in the spa experience depending on whether the worker was male or female. He responded that when a woman works on him, she has a sensual quality that puts him at ease. While the male worker has a deliberate touch that is trained to work on him, he perceives the female as having a tender, natural touch that is almost intimate.

In the spa, the people that work on you are experts who possess a tremendous amount of knowledge about the inter-workings of the human body. They know how every touch feels, what each muscle and bone is capable of and how it reacts, and they have the secret keys that can make your body go from feeling bad to good. Like the mikveh ladies, the spa workers are bearing witness to a transformation.

Deconstructing the mikveh and spa experience

Deconstructing the mikveh and spa experiences requires that we ask a series of questions. What is the attraction of the mikveh and spa to women? How do these spaces re-construct notions of power and ritual in a hegemonic discourse? And what did Sherry Ortner mean when she said that the body lies on the nature/culture border?

Body work

One of the primary draws of the mikveh and spa is the recognition that these are acceptable spaces to engage in body work. "Women have needs for privacy, but usually there are no limits within a family. In some ways this time is a way to regain your borders and control." There is a tremendous feeling of power that comes from working on the body because it "acts as a resource for resistance and it is also a source of pleasure."

But participation in the mikveh has not always been interpreted positively. Feminists have critiqued the practice of mikveh for invoking the idea that the menstruating female body is dirty and polluted and therefore must be cleansed. Mikveh laws are often seen as part of a system created by men which objectified woman as "other," setting her aside as untouchable when she experienced a phenomenon men could neither participate in nor understand. This critique is often combined with the modern woman's aversion to giving up autonomy over any of her personal affairs, especially her sexual practices.

In Sherry Ortner's essay, Woman is to Nature as Man is to Culture, she argues that every culture identifies women as polluted because of her intrinsic connection to the reproductive cycle, and that it is that association with nature that constructs her (and nature) as a lower order of existence. "A well known aspect of purity/pollution beliefs is that of the natural contagion of pollution; left to its own devices, pollution, the unregulation of natural energies spreads and overpowers all that it comes into contact with." This belief that any contact with the menstruating female is pollution that renders one impure or contaminated was present in Leviticus 15 as justification for the mikveh. Ortner argues that culture (man) created a purification ritual (mikveh) to rid itself of the pollution (female). I disagree with Ortner's critique of the mikveh because I believe the purification ritual strengthens rather than negates the natural power of woman.

Furthermore, Ortner's negative construction of nature as a lower form of existence fails to consider the positive aspects that come associating women with nature. A ritual immersion can be a powerful marker for the physical and spiritual cycles of the female body. "Immersion after completion of one's menses links each woman with a community of women, past, present and future. Time for a woman to look over body carefully, to be in touch with its ebbs and flows, to appreciate its potential to create life and thereby to share in the creative powers, sense of wonder and appreciation." The woman who participate in mikveh and spas are constructing a space that embraces their "biological and social experiences of being female and integrating that experience into their every day life."
Susan Ossman suggested that the undressed, adorned, clipped and colored body could be seen as arguing for certain forms of sociability. I agree, but I take her argument one step further by suggesting that when the body is unadorned, undressed and devoid of all accoutrements then it does more than argue for cultural sociability. It creates what Ortner called a border between culture and nature, a language on which to recognize notions of gender and space.

Embracing the power of ritual

Many women use mikvehs and spas as a way to mark personal events in their lives: marriages, recovery from illness, celebration, and mourning. "I wanted to do something intimate, private, personal, and feminine and mikveh seemed to be those things." Ossman suggests that the bath is a space where women can submit to the laws of both nature (through body work) and culture (through social interaction). "The mikveh provides a place for womanhood among women, and allows us to share experiences not understood by men." Participation in spas and mikvehs constructs a form of female power in what was traditionally defined as male dominated space.

Many feminists have critiqued Judaism as misogynistic and patriarchal in its exclusion of women. Faye Ginsberg was convinced that women could only possess power through loopholes in the male dominant culturally based system, and Ortner reiterated these claims when she argued that western religions exclude women from higher ritual practices. But I believe that the mikveh exists as an example of a female constructed space that encourages women to claim power through ritual. After the destruction of the Temple in the first century, the Rabbis had to find a way to worship god without having the separated, sanctified temple space. They constructed the home or domestic sphere as the new ritual space and relegated the ritual duties to women. Women had three ritual obligations: niddah (the laws of menstrual separation), challah (the laws of removal of a portion of dough before baking as a sacrifice), and hadlakat ha-nerot (lighting the Sabbath candles to mark the separation of the Sabbath from the rest of the week). "Within that ritual space the woman becomes the structural equivalent of the priest." Ginsberg and Ortner's claims that women in Judaism have no power seem erroneous when we examine the value of the mikveh ritual in the Jewish tradition. Though participation at the spa does not carry the same religious significance as the mikveh, it does construct a private space for women to separate themselves from the outside world and take pleasure in the attention to their bodies.

Conclusion

The mikveh and spa should not be trivialized as just a physical space constructed for women to cleanse their bodies. Participation in the mikveh and spa gives women a chance to re-examine their identity and social value in a publicly constructed private space. In a patriarchal society, it is increasingly difficult for a woman to carve out her own space. The mikveh and spa offers an opportunity to reflect inward, experience a re-birth or even a momentary transformation that enables us to engage in the public world. "We must be wary of merely assimilating into male culture, of accepting what male-defined society determines as legitimate and valuable experience. Women experience menses and give birth. It is therefore appropriate that we celebrate this specialness." My goal at the beginning of this paper was to unravel and examine the mikveh and spa as a source or empowerment for women. I truly believe that by stepping into the mikveh water or laying on a spa table, women are recognizing their limits of existence and attempting to transcend them.