A Dispute as Old as the Sources
The Gemara in Menachot 34b discusses the order of the placement of the Tefillin. The first two parshiyot in which the Torah mentions tefillin are from the right, and the next two are from the left. Rashi reads this as two sets: to the person facing the wearer, the first set will begin from the right, and the second set will be to the left of that. So, the order is Kadesh, V'hayah, Shema, V'hayah (Menachot 34b, Rashi s.v. V'hakorei). Tosafot brings the opinion of Rabbeinu Tam that the first two parshiyot indeed begin from the reader's right, Kadesh and V'hayah, but the next set "begins" from left to right, Shema and V'hayah. This results in the two parshiyot that begin with the word V'hayah being in the center chambers (Tosafot, Menachot 34b s.v. V'hakorei).
Tosafot cites R' Hai Gaon and R' Yosef Tov Elem (Joseph Bonfils) who preceded Rabbeinu Tam and ruled the same way (Tosafot ibid.). However, Rambam and many others rule like Rashi. This dispute goes back even earlier to the Mechilta, Zohar, and even to archaeological evidence. It seems that both opinions were in practice from very early on. Indeed, Shulchan Aruch rules like Rashi, but states that a scrupulous person should wear both (Shulchan Aruch, Orach Chaim 34:1-3)! Even more striking is the supernatural responsa Shu"t Min Hashamayim of R' Yaakov of Corbeil: it was revealed to him that this dispute is between the Holy One Himself and the Heavenly Academy, with the Almighty supporting Rabbeinu Tam, and the academy supporting Rashi (Shu"t Min HaShamayim, cited in Beit Yosef, Orach Chaim 34). This demands elucidation. Why is this particular dispute so pervasive, and why should one be scrupulous despite the normative halachah?
(Rashi's reading remarkably aligns with what we know of the brain as having two hemispheres. Thus, each hemisphere has its own set that follows an identical pattern. However, the left hemisphere is known more for logical and sequential thinking while the right hemisphere is more creative and intuitive, which is less linear. This aligns with Rabbeinu Tam: the right side of the reader—which is the left side of the wearer—is in the logical order, while the left side—which is the wearer's right—is in reverse order.)
I Do Not Pursue Olam Haba
In Orchot Chaim (Keter Rosh, siman 13), R' Yisrael of Shklov records an exchange he heard directly from R' Chaim of Volozhin. R' Chaim asked the Vilna Gaon why he did not wear Rabbeinu Tam's tefillin. The Gaon replied that if one wished to accommodate all the variant opinions in tefillin, one would need sixty-four pairs. R' Chaim pressed further: but the Tikkunei Zohar states that Rabbeinu Tam's tefillin are the tefillin of olam haba (Tikkunei Zohar, Introduction 9a), and the Arizal writes explicitly that one should wear both (Arizal, Sha'ar HaKavanot, Drushei Tefillin, Drush 6). The Gaon answered: the plain reading of the Zohar does not support that, and whoever seeks olam haba may wear them. He then added: "I do not pursue olam haba. I fulfill mitzvot for the sake of serving God."
What is it about these tefillin that is associated with Olam Haba, and what can we say about the Vilna Gaon's "not pursuing Olam Haba"? As is well known, Hasidim wear tefillin of Rabbeinu Tam in addition to Rashi, and those that are not Hasidim—the followers of the tradition of the Gaon—do not. Is there something in particular in the respective weltanschauung of these two groups that would explain this divide? Why does even the Shulchan Aruch support this practice, and why do certain groups reject this recommendation?
Two Names: Totafot and Tefillin
The Talmud earlier in the page cites a Tannaitic dispute on where we derive the need for four separate parshiyot and four chambers in the tefillin shel rosh. R' Yishmael uses classic rabbinic hermeneutics to derive the number four. R' Akiva posits that the word Totafot, which is the biblical term for tefillin, is a compound word from two different languages—Tat in Katpi and Pat in Afriki, each meaning two—and therefore the total is four (Menachot 34b). This is puzzling: why are we introducing a foreign language here, and not merely one word, but the entire word is derived from two foreign languages?
The Talmud refers to them as tefillin, and in our common language that is what we call them. But the Torah calls them Totafot. Why the departure?
The Foot of the Tav
The Arvei Nachal (Beshalach), drawing on the Chesed L'Avraham, presents a principle from the Mekubalim. The full stature of holiness—its komah—spans the twenty-two letters of the aleph-bet, from aleph to tav. The aleph is the head, the tav is the end. But the tav, unlike the other letters, has a foot that bends outward, extending beyond the body of the letter itself. That extension descends into the realm of the klipot, the domain of the other side. This is the meaning of raglehah yordot mavet—"her feet descend to death" (Proverbs 5:5). The foot of the tav reaches into the territory of impurity, and through that descent, holiness exercises dominion even there: u'malkhuto bakol mashala—"His dominion rules over all" (Psalm 103:19). A tav without the foot would be a chet. A chet without an extending foot symbolizes separation, isolation, and contraction. Whereas an extended foot is expansion and integration. Having a foot on the other side possesses an element of risk, but also is the mechanism through which one can effect the greatest transformation. According to Sefer Yetzirah, all sacred principles manifest in three realms: Olam—space, Shanah—time, and Nefesh—the human soul (Sefer Yetzirah 1:1). The tav's extension operates in all three.
In the realm of time, the Arvei Nachal observes that the sanctity of Shabbat and Yom Tov extends beyond its own borders through the mitzvah of tosefet—adding from the mundane onto the holy. When we sanctify these days through eating, drinking, and physical enjoyment, we are extending a foot from the domain of holiness into the domain of the ordinary, and drawing it back elevated. The kedusha descends into the material through the act of oneg, and the material is transformed through contact with it. This, Arvei Nachal explains, is reflected in the very names of the holy days. Shabbat, Sukkot, Shavuot—each ends with a tav. The foot extends outward.
He reads the verse in Yeshaya through this lens: im tashiv mi'Shabbat raglekha... v'karata la'Shabbat oneg—"if you restrain your foot from Shabbat... and call the Shabbat a delight" (Isaiah 58:13). By engaging in physical pleasure for the sake of Shabbat, one extends the foot of the tav into the mundane and retracts it back into the stature of holiness, elevating whatever it has touched.
The single exception is Pesach. Its name ends not in tav but in chet—the letter without the descending foot.
At the moment of the Exodus, Israel was submerged in the forty-ninth gate of impurity. One gate further and there would have been no return. At that depth, any contact with the other side is fatal—the foot cannot descend because there is nowhere safe to stand. God had to, as the Arvei Nachal puts it, overturn the natural order entirely and extract them without any admixture whatsoever. This is why chametz is forbidden even in the most minute quantity—b'mashehu—a stringency found nowhere else in Torah law. There could be no interaction, no integration, no extension of holiness into the impure. Only total separation.
The Torah itself signals this: v'atem lo tetze'u ish mipetach beito ad boker—"and no man shall leave his doorway until morning" (Exodus 12:22). They were sealed inside while the destroyer passed. This is the opposite of every other sacred time, where kedusha reaches outward through enjoyment and engagement. On Pesach, the posture was contraction, withdrawal, a closed door. The chet, not the tav.
God's Name and Ours
But here we must pause. Pesach is our name for the holiday. The Torah does not call it Pesach, but Chag HaMatzot—a name that, like every other holiday, ends in tav. If the chet signals total separation and the tav signals extension, then from the Torah's perspective—from God's perspective—even this holiday carries the tav's descending foot.
This discrepancy has a famous precedent. The Kedushat Levi asks why the Torah's name for the holiday differs from ours. His answer, grounded in the Gemara in Berakhot, is that the names reflect two directions of praise. God calls it Chag HaMatzot—the festival of the unleavened bread—because He is praising Israel for the faith they showed in following Him into the wilderness with nothing but raw dough on their backs. We call it Pesach—the festival of passing over—because we are praising God for the mercy He showed in sparing our homes. Each side names the holiday for what the other one did (Kedushat Levi, Parshat Bo, citing Berakhot 7a).
According to Kedushat Levi, the perspective from Hashem is to praise and elevate and express confidence and faith in Israel. Perhaps we can apply this concept to our framework.
We call it Pesach, because we are cautious and afraid of contamination; we are in contraction mode. But God expresses His confidence in us and calls it Chag HaMatzot, with a tav. Because His faith in us is that we can expand and thrive. The former is borne out of fear, the latter is love.
The same question, and perhaps the same structure, applies to tefillin. The Torah calls them Totafot. We call them Tefillin. Why the departure?
Betrothal and Marriage
Tefillin are, at their core, a binding. The straps wrap and tie the tefillin housing close against the body; the parshiyot inside contain declarations of love and devotion between God and Israel. They are, in a real sense, the physical apparatus of a covenantal relationship—not unlike a ring or a pendant containing the vows of a marriage. It is concretized in daily practice: as one wraps the strap around the finger, one recites the verse from Hoshea—v'erastich li l'olam, v'erastich li b'tzedek u'v'mishpat u'v'chesed u'v'rachamim, v'erastich li b'emunah, v'yada'at et Hashem—"And I will betroth you to Me forever, and I will betroth you to Me with righteousness, justice, kindness, and mercy, and I will betroth you to Me with faithfulness, and you shall know the Lord" (Hosea 2:21-22). The act of donning tefillin is a declaration of our relationship.
There are traditionally two stages of a relationship, and they operate by very different logics.
Eirusin, otherwise called Kiddushin—betrothal—is the stage of becoming. The relationship has been declared but not yet consummated. Its primary legal force is restrictive: the betrothed woman is exclusive, forbidden to all others, asura al kol ha'olam k'hekdesh—prohibited to the entire world like a consecrated object (Kiddushin 2a-b). The energy of eirusin is boundary, separation, vigilance; the operative mode is sur meira—"do no harm." The relationship is defined more by what it excludes than by what it contains.
Nisuin—marriage—is the stage of being. The couple now dwells together. The relationship is no longer defined by prohibition but by presence, by havayah. Its energy is not restriction and vigilance but intimacy and inhabitation. The operative mode shifts from sur meira to aseh tov—"do good," building a life together.
Tefillin contain within them both aspects of relationship. The first pair of parshiyot begins with Kadesh, from the same root as kiddushin. Betrothal, like hekdesh, a consecrated object. This is restrictive, contraction, focused on vigilance. The next parshah is V'hayah ki yeviacha, which relates to when God will bring us home to Israel, the destination. The word V'hayah shares the root of havayah, the Talmudic term for the marriage bond itself, derived from the verse v'yatza'ah v'haytah l'ish acher—"she goes out and becomes another man's wife" (Deuteronomy 24:2; see Kiddushin 4b-5a). The pattern repeats in the second set of parshiyot. First Shema, which is acceptance of the yoke of heaven, then V'hayah, which are the benefits and blessings of the relationship.
In Rashi's arrangement, the parshiyot follow the order of the Torah: Kadesh, V'hayah, Shema, V'hayah. The progression is sequential—betrothal, then being, then yoke, then being. One stage follows the next. The relationship unfolds in time, developing from restriction toward intimacy. This is the logic of eirusin: becoming.
In Rabbeinu Tam's arrangement, the two havayot sit at the center, flanked by Kadesh on one side and Shema on the other. Being is the central organizing principle. The restrictive parshiyot serve as the outer frame, but the core—the center of the tefillin—is havayah. This is the logic of nisuin: being.
We can now return to the question of names. We call them tefillin—a word that ends in nun, a letter whose leg descends straight, contained, with no extension outward. The Torah calls them totafot—a word that ends in tav, the letter whose foot bends beyond its own border into the domain of the other. The parallel to Pesach and Chag HaMatzot is exact. Our name for the sacred object mirrors our posture in the relationship: vigilance, boundary, the straight leg that does not venture out. God's name mirrors His: confidence, trust, the willingness to extend into foreign territory.
And it is precisely totafot—the name that God uses, the tav name—that R' Akiva derives from foreign languages. Tat in Katpi, pat in Afriki (Menachot 34b). The word itself does what it describes: it extends beyond the borders of Hebrew, drawing meaning from the outside, because from God's side the relationship is secure enough that contact with the foreign is not contamination but integration. R' Yishmael, by contrast, derives the four compartments from within—through hermeneutical reasoning applied to the text itself. He does not leave the house. R' Yishmael reads like Rashi. R' Akiva reads like Rabbeinu Tam.
Eirusin is a journey. One is moving toward something not yet achieved. Its characteristic experience is becoming—effort, vigilance, the awareness that one is not yet where one needs to be. This is olam hazeh, the world of process and development, where the operative principle is becoming. Nisuin is arrival. Its characteristic experience is being—presence, dwelling, inhabitation. This is olam haba, a mode of existence that exists when one has arrived at a more final destination. It is symbolic of a relationship that has matured beyond the need for vigilance into the security of mutual presence.
The Gaon's Refusal
The Gaon's words now open up to us. The Gaon, who was famous for his asceticism and scrupulous stringencies, does not pursue olam haba. He operates in the realm of becoming, the careful sequential progression from restriction toward holiness. This is precisely the mode of Rashi's tefillin—the parshiyot in order, the journey as intended.
The Zohar and the Arizal insist that Rabbeinu Tam's tefillin correspond to olam haba (Tikkunei Zohar, Introduction 9a; Arizal, Sha'ar HaKavanot, Drushei Tefillin, Drush 6). And the Hasidic movement, which adopted these tefillin almost universally, built its entire approach around the conviction that for our time the mode of being has arrived and is necessary—that focus should be on increasing light rather than chasing away darkness. The foundational Hasidic teachings are to turn away from asceticism and embrace the elevation of the ordinary.
(It is a common custom among many Hasidim to begin wearing Rabbeinu Tam tefillin only after marriage. This is a perplexing custom. Do we concern ourselves with Rabbeinu Tam and the Kabbalistic opinion or not? But our framework provides a fitting resolution: Rabbeinu Tam tefillin operate specifically in a mode of nisuin, havayah; therefore it is fitting that one begins wearing them when one is himself in a mode of nisuin and havayah.)
Conclusion
These two modes appear as a universal binary in human nature. They are the primary poles of chesed and gevurah, and they exist from the beginning of time itself and extend throughout history. Both expansive loving-kindness and measured restraint are necessary and vital parts of divine worship. The tension over primacy and focus is pervasive—from Hasidim and Mitnagdim, back through Rashi and Rabbeinu Tam, the Geonim, the Tannaim, all the way to Hashem and the Academy. It is part of the fabric of creation itself.
Perhaps this is why the Shulchan Aruch rules that it is recommended to wear both pairs (Shulchan Aruch, Orach Chaim 34:1-3). Because both are essential, both are necessary, and both are true.
Comments
Post a Comment