Have fun storming the mikveh!

While the legal formalities of adoption will make David our child under secular law as if he had been born to us, conservative Judaism requires additional steps to officially convert David to Judaism. The first step began when David was circumcised, and that was completed a week ago with a hatafat dam brit (symbolic drop of blood following a previous medical circumcision). We brought David to a wonderful mohelet, who took some time to explain that this was simply a step in preparation for David’s conversion, and who led us in a brief prayer.

Then on Sunday we all trooped off to the mikveh for the remaining steps: meeting with the bet din and signing an affirmation of what we were doing, immersing David in the mikveh, and giving him his Hebrew name. Our parents and a few friends joined us for the event, which was very different from anything we’ve ever been to (let alone starred in).

My rabbi gathered three conservative rabbis to form the bet din, a rabbinical court to check whether we are serious about raising David in a Jewish home and giving him a Jewish education. We had an opportunity to talk with two of the other rabbis individually before the bet din, and my rabbi apparently told all of them enough about us before the bet din started that there were almost no questions beyond reading and signing the affirmation.

And then the mikveh immersion. Because I am the Jewish parent, I had to be the one to immerse our child fully in the pool of living water. David and L and I had a little time to ourselves: I showered and changed into a bathing suit, L washed David thoroughly, and we had a few minutes to just be together as a family. This was a valuable time in the midst of a chaotic weekend.

The bet din was a private meeting between us and the rabbis, but I was really glad to have the immersion and naming ceremony be a public statement with family and friends there. I walked down into the mikveh pool to open the connection for several seconds between the warm filtered water and the pool of gathered rainwater and snowmelt outside, then back up to take David from L. She unwrapped our naked son from the sheet, handed him to me, and I brought him down into the water. He was unhappy in the air, but quite content in the warm water. I blew sharply into his face, pulled him entirely underwater, and let go.

Letting go, even for a moment, can be a powerful statement of faith. I’m told that I looked calm and practiced, and the amazing thing is that I felt calm while doing it. Certainly not before, and not even after. But in that moment, feeling the support of everyone there, knowing that my son and my wife trusted me to do this, it was stunningly easy to pull him entirely underwater and let go. I gathered him back up into my arms, my wet and startled 6-week-old son, read two brachot, walked back up the seven steps, and handed David to L to wrap back up while everyone sang.

Then back to change into dry clothes. My rabbi did the short naming ceremony for David ben Shlomo, we were given a few completed and signed documents to keep safe for him, I read a few words I had written, L and I read a few poems we had selected, and then we all had lunch.

Six months to the day after we found out we had been chosen to adopt this child, I pulled him entirely underwater and let go. Baruch atah Adonai Eloheynu melech ha’olam, shehechiyanu, v’kiymanu, v’higiyanu lazman hazeh. Blessed are You, Eternal God, Sovereign of the universe, who has given us life, and sustained us, and enabled us to reach this moment.