Just over a year ago, I began setting my morning alarm for 15 minutes earlier than I had previously. I get mostly ready for the day, then clip my kippah to my head, wrap myself in tallit and tefillin, and daven Shacharit at home.
Although I am ordained as a post-denominational rabbi, I identify as a Conservative Jew. While studying to become a rabbi, I began to increase my personal practice as well. I began wearing a kippah while teaching at a Jewish day school and when in a synagogue, 18 years ago. When I learned to chant Torah with my 5th grade class 15 years ago, I began to wear a tallit. Always in the back of my head was the knowledge that male Conservative Jews almost universally are taught to put on tefillin at the time of bar mitzvah. As a feminist and an egalitarian, the idea was always present. But there is something… intimidating? different? off-putting? strange? about tefillin.
One reason is the phylacteries themselves. Two black boxes, one on the arm and one on the forehead, with black straps wrapped around the arm and hand in a particular pattern. No colorful, feminine options allowed. Several blessings to say along the way. Needing them personally sized so they fit correctly.
Another reason is that tefillin are not worn in the evening, or on Shabbat or holidays. Unless you attend weekday morning services, you don’t see people putting them on. A tallit, on the other hand, is worn on Shabbat and holidays, when many more people are in synagogue. Many fewer role models, and, as an almost-never morning minyan attendee, much less opportunity.
And then I added morning prayer to my routine. Never having been interested in yoga or meditation, I have discovered a beauty in beginning my day with a similar practice. For me, the familiarity and repetition of prayers frees me to go beyond the words and experience a focus and centering as I begin my busy day. For three months, I woke up, got ready, put on kippah and tallit, and prayed. After a while, I felt that something was missing, and it was clear to me what it was. I was supposed to also be wrapping tefillin each day. So, I did what anyone would do: I began watching YouTube how-to videos. I had two sets of tefillin already in the house: my grandfather’s and my son’s. I chose my son’s set since they were newer and clearly kosher. After some practice, I met with my local cantor (who happens to be a woman), and practiced some more, along with a meaningful sharing of experiences as women who wrap.
For six months I wrapped myself in tallit and tefillin and davened every morning. I felt in tune with the studying and learning I was doing – until I faced medical challenges that completely upended my life. As a result, I no longer had a regular morning routine. I was not able to count on feeling well enough or centered enough. Even harder than learning how to put on tefillin correctly, was giving myself permission not to put them on at all. I was finally doing “everything” I was supposed to for morning davening, and then I wasn’t. After several months without my morning prayer routine, I was feeling able to resume it. Some days; not all. More often than not. And sometimes I even get up early enough to join a minyan at synagogue.
I notice the difference in how I feel and in how I approach my day. On the mornings where I make time to slow down, breathe, and thank God for the gifts I have been given, I am in a much more positive frame of mind – no matter what is on my schedule. The physical wrapping of myself in my Judaism enables a deeper spiritual connection than I could possibly have imagined.
(If you would like to explore more about tefillin, this set of videos shows all genders wrapping with very clear instructions: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCTjqh7deFtbb1n8SFAvXA8g/featured)
