More Tsfat

As I was coming back from my hike in the wadi, I started to feel pretty hot, since the sun was up by that time. I decided to take a cool, refreshing dip in the Mikvah of the ARI. A mikvah is a ritual bath, and this particular mikvah is adjacent to the cemetary. The mikvah of the ARI is fed from a natural spring where the ARI (famous kabbalistic rabbi from way back) used to do his ritual immersion. In the first picture, you see the waters gushing from the spring and running down the hill to the mikvah.

It was still pretty early, but there were two hasids at the mikvah. One was in the tub, splashing around pretty vigorously; the other was getting dressed. I have to confess part of the fascination of going to the mikvah of the ARI was voyeuristic - the idea of peeking behind the curtain. Here are these hasids, these men who dedicate themselves to what they believe to be a righteous lifestyle, these guys who wear the black suit, white shirt, black hat, and fringes no matter how hot it gets. Their lifestyle is supposed to transcend the physical and reach for the spiritual reality in everything. Just what would they look like without all their holy clothes? Would their underwear be black, or white? (Or some other color, say, magenta or chartreuse?)

The answer is, they looked pretty scrawny. Pale, thin, with shoulders hanging forward. Wet beards and peos clinging to translucent skin. Their underwear: white, or gray (which is halfway between black and white).

I have a certain amount of sympathy with the idea of living a life that emphasizes the spiritual and deemphasizes the physical. The hasids who taught the classes on Judaism told us when we meet someone we should not think so much about what that person looks like, but rather try to understand the person inside - try to see what a beautiful soul they might have. Modern secular life certainly gives too much weight to outward characteristics in telling us how to present ourselves and judge others, and the kabbalistic approach of looking at the person inside seems to me more likely to produce social harmony. Whether the Chabadniks of Tsfat actually are better at looking at the person inside than anyone else is remains an open question - even by the Chabadniks' admission - what they say is we should WANT to see the person inside.

However, the mikvah showed me another consequence of deemphasizing the physical life in favor of spiritual pursuits. These guys were not a picture of physical well being. I can't see into people's souls, so I don't know about spiritually speaking, but they did not look like they could do ten pullups or run a mile or touch their toes or chop a cord of wood. The yogis of India see physical fitness as integral to spiritual well-being - the hasids could learn something from them!

Anyway, when Reb Splish Splash got out, it was into the mikvah for me. It was not as cold as the lake at Glacial Trails Scout Ranch, but it was cold enough that it seriously sucked the breath right out of me. Three immersions in that and I was good and cooled off, believe me. The mikvah of the ARI also explained why our sages of blessed memory, who insisted that a man ought not recite a blessing while nude, had no problem reciting a blessing in the mikvah: the water was so cloudy you couldn't see more than two inches into it. Thus, one's nudity is not in view, so saying a blessing is not a problem (remember, this is a spiritual cleansing, not a physical cleansing).

After drying off, I headed back up the hill to my hostel. But at the top, I took the second picture. It seems that water that was bursting so vigorously from the hillside was not the mineral-rich bounty of a protected aquafer. It was coming from a truck. Why, then, was it so murky? Why, then, did it smell vaguely sulferous? What, exactly, did I immerse myself in? I don't know.