By Arielle Kaplan
Back in 2008, I first learned about an incredible place tucked away in a quiet residential neighborhood in Newton, MA: Mayyim Hayyim. A haven of ritual and renewal, it has become an anchor in the story of my Jewish life.
As a convert to Judaism, my mother wanted to ensure that my brother’s and my status as members of the Jewish people would never be questioned—whether we chose to move to Israel, become more observant than our Reform upbringing, or simply find ourselves in a moment of doubt. Our rabbi suggested she take us to the mikveh to affirm our Judaism, and I remember being enveloped by a hush of reverence, the air thick with possibility, the water warm and welcoming as it closed around me.
That moment never left me. In 2017, as I prepared to step into a new phase of life, it felt only natural to return to Mayyim Hayyim before my wedding, not just for myself but with my spouse-to-be, so that we could immerse together. On the threshold of my marriage, I stood once more in that sacred space, with my mother—who had brought me here as a child—now serving as my witness. The waters embraced me, and I surfaced with an even deeper connection to Am Yisrael.
And now, I have the profound joy of being not just a guest, but a steward of this sacred space. As the Mikveh Program Manager, I guide others through the same ritual that shaped me, helping them mark life moments—conversions, gender transitions, healing, moments of quiet contemplation. I am endlessly moved by the diversity of those who step into these waters, by the ways in which ancient tradition and personal meaning intertwine.
I am devoted to demystifying the mikveh. Too many have been made to feel unwelcome in these spaces, to see this ritual as something cold and inaccessible rather than deeply personal and affirming. I want to show them what I have always known: that the mikveh is not a place of judgment, but of restoration. It is a place where one can step in as they are and emerge as they need to be.
I have seen the mikveh’s power to heal. Last month, I had the honor of welcoming Nova Festival survivor Din Tesler, who had carried with him a longing to immerse in the healing waters since October 8, 2023. When he entered the mikveh, I felt the way trauma and renewal can coexist, how water—silent, ancient, and eternal—can hold both grief and hope.
As I prepare to begin my cantorial studies, I carry these lessons with me. Mayyim Hayyim shows that Judaism’s most sacred moments often happen in the quiet places: in the spaces between what was and what will be. It has shown me the power of ritual to restore, to reimagine, and to reclaim. And above all, it has reaffirmed my purpose to serve and uplift, so that every Jew can find a place where they, too, can immerse and emerge transformed.