It was about 15 years ago, on my 20th birthday. My spiritual state was at a low point—I was wandering in the material world but yearning for something spiritual to hold on to. It had to be a commitment I could integrate into my daily life.
After much thought, a brilliant idea popped into my mind: the mikveh. After all, I take a shower every day, so why not purify myself spiritually at the same time? That way, at the very least, I wouldn‘t feel entirely disconnected, and maybe I would even merit some clarity and grow closer to Hashem.
I decided to follow through with this idea. Not a week passed, and my friends were planning a trip for bein hazmanim and wanted to spend Shabbos in the yeshiv of Aloni HaBashan. I told them I was willing to give up good food and a comfortable bed, but without a mikveh, I wasn’t coming! After some inquiries, they assured me there was a mikveh there, and it would not be a problem.
Shabbos morning arrived. I grabbed my towel and headed to the mikveh, but to my surprise, the door was locked. Frustrated, I returned to my friend who had made the inquiries and confronted him. He came back with an apologetic tone, explaining that the Rav of the settlement usually opens the mikveh for those who want to immerse, but this particular Shabbos, there was an unusual issue, and he absolutely could not open it. Of course, I was deeply upset. Had I known this, I would not have joined them. Left with no choice, I went to pray Shacharis, while my friends tried to calm me down, saying, “Why are you so hard on yourself? You‘re in a situation beyond your control! Your worries won‘t magically open a mikveh!”
But my heart was not at peace. How could I abandon such an important commitment?
As soon as Tefillah ended, I began searching for a spring or any water source. I asked everyone I could, but each time, the answer was negative. Finally, in complete despair, I encountered an old man and asked him, “By any chance, do you remember where there might be a spring in the area?”
He replied, “There isn‘t a spring in the immediate area, but you might try walking in a straight line from the cowshed. I seem to recall there‘s a water source somewhere there, but I‘m not sure.”
I calculated that to stay within the techum Shabbos, I could take up to 900 steps. I resolved to try. At step 700, there was no sign of water anywhere in sight. At step 890, I decided, with a heavy heart, to turn back. But then I told myself, “I‘ll complete the full 900 steps.”
Just as I took the 900th step, I heard the sound of a frog croaking. I looked around and found myself standing on a broken roof, and in the corner was a circular opening, just wide enough for my body to enter comfortably. Beneath it were cold, crystal-clear waters, the likes of which I had never seen.
Overwhelmed with emotion at this incredible hashgacha pratis, I immersed in the water—a tevilah I will never forget.
This experience taught me a profound lesson: “One who seeks to purify themselves is given Divine assistance.”
צ.ש.ח.
