And I Entered Wearing Tefillin

Someone, via email, has asked about my wearing tefillin.

I am sure that there are some women and men out there who can spout out halachic chapter and verse and variants. I know there are those out there who perceive the whole thing in academic terms. I also know that some approach it in intellectual terms, as in-- I am gonna put on the tefillin and I will report back to you my observations and the laws encompassing the entire issue.

Pardon me if I don't get it. Just put the things on and surrender. This is not to criticise the approach of others (well, okay, some of it is) as much as to say that sometimes we live in our heads at the expense of experimenting with experience-that is, placing our hearts in the hands of something greater than ourselves and following what unfolds. (Of course, I am assuming a lot here. I am assuming an interest in, and struggle with, halacha, and a serious and essential connection to mitzvot as a way of life.)

Ironically, unlike tefillin, it took me an entire year after my conversion to feel worthy enough to wear a tallit. That, and my search for the tallit that I dreamed about, the tallit I finally found; it was bashert. My tallit has the most beautiful tzitzit, a Sephardic twist (early macrame, who knew?). Some may argue that it is a man's tallit, but for me it is the tallit of my dreams, one in which I envelop myself, it is a garment of light. The first time I put it on in shul, I knew I was home. Heck, it gave me warm fuzzies as well!

I did not consider tefillin. Tefillin were thrust upon me.

I was attending morning minyan almost every day. I happened upon a woman who was wearing tefillin. The temple has extra pairs and she indicated to the rabbi that I was willing. I was not willing! I had no idea!

Yet, I found the the rabbi explaining to me the ins and outs of tefillin, outside the beit midrash (house of study)while morning prayers had commenced. He had to change the knots to accommodate my left-handedness. He recited the blessings. And I entered wearing tefillin.

When the rabbi placed the shel rosh (the box that sits on the head) on my head, I went into another world. It is hard to describe. I knew I was meant to wear tefillin. It changed everything. Yes, you rationalists and skeptics and halachic purists out there, it did change everything. I was home. I was amazed. Oh my, it felt like a coronet. I felt noble. It is another world of nobility, not this world, but G-d's world. It confers dignity.

I remember a tussle I had with the gabbai a while into wearing tefillin. I stopped wearing a kippah when I wore tefillin. Why? Because I felt that it was overkill (and I also knew halacha). When you are wearing the coronet, it is enough. I have no idea of what it is like for guys, but for me as a woman, the shel rosh confers dignity.

The rabbi did his mara d'atra (teacher of the community) thing and ruled that according to the Conservative movement, women do not have to wear headcovering/kippah (and he gave an eye-opening history of kippah use). The gabbai's opening salvo was that if you want to "be like a man" then you have to adhere to the rules. I was getting into a huge, nasty argument with him (oh, puleeze, like I ever thought about the "man" thing, yeah some of us don't) given after that statement when the rabbi intervened. Somehow, tznius entered into the mix. I recall saying that I am modest and that modesty was not a question! The result was that I do not wear a kippah while wearing tefillin. Yes, even on the bimah, but that just may be tolerance on the part of everyone else. Still, I love them for it.

I was also bound on my arm. Oh my! If you want psychological analysis, go to it! The binding made me nuts! I felt so freaking bound, and it was so agitating, I can't begin to tell you. For me, the head part was not a matter of will, but the arm part was. I was beside myself. Wanting to align myself with G-d, yet at the same time, questioning, agitating, basically pitting my will against G-d's. Truly. I bound my arm, the box was directed at my heart, but I chafed bigtime at it. Chafed and chafed and chafed.

It took another year.

Now, the arm binding is intimate. I get it.

I have been privileged to wear tefillin throughout the day, while studying. I have been privileged to wear tefillin.

In the end, tefillin, for me, are a spiritual transformer. I remember a lovely older woman who came to say kaddish at morning minyan. She said, "Tefillin is for men. Why do you wear them?" I answered that they helped me to focus (and she accepted it); when you are brought out of yourself to answer, you don't have time to dissemble. For me, tefillin act as a transformer, like the mishkan. They help one directly and intensely connect with G-d; they magnify and sanctify prayer and connection. At the very least, they can provide focus; that is their service. And, just as importantly, they can confer dignity- they elevate your being and your soul. And their elaboration and weight are given witness by a roomful of people wearing tefillin, a testament to G-d's wisdom and love. Even though some people may feel like clowns wearing this stuff- the connection is there, binding us up in the bond of eternal Life, in something greater than ourselves. It's not really more complicated than that.

Far more than an obligation, tefillin are an explicit gift from G-d, via the Torah. A total and amazing gift, a way to directly connect with Him and with each other. I can't imagine my life without them. And I can't imagine not being able to lay tefillin, even when I am alone, in a room, with no access to my fellow Jews and feeling terribly disconnected and lonely; it is a comfort because I can still connect with something greater than myself. I would do it in my dreams, given the power.

How To Lay Tefillin (Video)