I rushed into shul (synagogue) this morning and ran through my prayers. I went ahead and put on my tallit (magic cape) and then my tefillin (magic boxes) and charged ahead, until someone tapped me on the shoulder.
He was a bearded man who told me we don’t wear tefillin today because it’s Chol haMoed (the intermediate days between the start and end of Pesach and Sukkot).
Sounds good. I looked around and indeed saw that I was the only one wearing tefillin. I wasn’t going to argue.
But he wasn’t done. Now he reinforced his point by informing me that not wearing tefillin on Chol haMoed is the minhag (custom) throughout Israel.
Ok, still not arguing. In fact, I think someone told me the same thing last year. I seem to forget about this tefillin thing every year. When I do remember, all I remember is that there are different customs about whether we wear tefillin on Chol haMoed, so I typically just look around to see what everyone else is doing. I guess I wasn’t even paying that much attention this year.
I thanked the guy as I took off my tefillin. He walked away, and I continued to pray. But then I felt another tap on my shoulder. What now? This time he had a book and motioned with his finger at a section of the page I should read. This guy was really committed! He had brought over a copy of the Mishnah Berurah, a book full of Jewish rules and debates (we love our rules and debates!).
I glanced it over. Part of me was annoyed that he kept pushing his point. Part of me appreciated that he took the time to tell me and even bring me a source. Maybe this year, since I’m actually learning the topic in depth, I’ll finally remember it for next year.
As I skimmed the page, I noticed a few interesting things:
1. The reason we don’t wear tefillin on Jewish holidays is because both tefillin and the Jewish holidays are considered “signs” or reminders of our connection with God. It’s easy to forget about God as we rush through our day, so every day is supposed to have one “sign” to remind us of the Divine presence. Why don’t we wear tefillin on holidays? Because we don’t need to. A holiday full of singing, feasting, family and friends is already the most powerful reminder possible that God is present in our lives.
2. On Chol haMoed (the intermediate days of the holiday), there’s a debate whether these days also have “sign” status which would exempt us from wearing tefillin. They’re not fully weekdays (Chol) and they’re not fully holidays (Moed): so what’s a Jew to do?
According to one opinion, throughout the Chol haMoed days of Sukkot, you have the sukkah (the hut you build and dwell in for 7 days) and throughout the Chol haMoed days of Passover, you have the matzah. Aren’t these big enough reminders in themselves?! According to this opinion, we don’t wear tefillin on Chol Hamoed because these days have signs of their own.
According to the other opinion, during Chol Hamoed we’re able to work, so it’s easy to lose our connection with God. It’s true these days have the reminders of the matzah or the sukkah, but perhaps they’re not quite strong enough reminders in the face of weekday distractions. According to this opinion, you do wear tefillin on Chol haMoed, because if you start diving into work and need a reminder of your connection with God, the sukkah or matzah alone just won’t cut it!
3. Whatever opinion you hold by, the Mishnah Brurah explains that you need to follow the custom of the community you’re in. In other words, if everyone in the synagogue wears tefillin during Chol Hamoed, you should too. And if they don’t, you shouldn’t either. And if you really feel you need to wear it, you can put on your tefillin later at home. No judgment.
The bottom line was that this week, I was taking a break from tefillin. Which reminded me of the other break I was taking: my break from chametz (leavened bread).
For the 7 days of Pesach, we just eat matzah (unleavened bread). And not only that, we make sure to either eat, sell or destroy whatever chametz we have in our possession. The last option, destroying our chametz, is celebrated by building bonfires throughout the land and chucking into them our croissants, crackers and cake. And if you still have your lulav (magical palm frond) from Sukkot, you can throw that in the fire, too!
I heard a beautiful Dvar Torah (Torah idea) from one of my neighbors as we stood around the fire.
Matzah, which is flat bread without any leavening agent, represents our essential Self. Matzah is the simplest type of bread possible–just water and flour. So that’s like our Self, pure and simple.
In comparison, the leavened bread we usually eat contains yeast (and often many many more ingredients!). Our leavened bread represents all the things we add to ourselves—our essential Self plus yeast. Yeast represents the ego, because it’s that which “puffs us up.”
On Pesach, we start with the basics: the matzah, our essential Self. Before we start adding things to who we are, we need to know who we are, so for seven days, we enjoy the humble matzah. But bread isn’t bad. And neither is ego. They have their place in life.
My experience in shul (synagogue) this morning gave me a new perspective. Connecting my break from bread to my break from tefillin helped me realize that bread, just like my beloved tefillin, is holy! And that goes for ego, too.
After all, if I didn’t have my ego, I couldn’t accomplish anything in the world. This post, for example, probably required a good amount of ego to write, edit and publicize it. But I figured it was important, so I went for it. And now that I’m done, I’m ready to go back on my Pesach ego-vacation and enjoy a matzah pizza.