Imu Shalev: Welcome to Meaningful Judaism, where we try to answer why we do what we do in Jewish life. So many of our practices can feel like they're just...there. We do them, but we’re not connected to them, we don’t feel their meaning. In this podcast, we search for that meaning by diving deep into the Torah text. Meaningful Judaism is a product of Aleph Beta Labs, and I’m your host, Imu Shalev.

Welcome back to our adventure through Torah text to discover the hidden meaning behind the mitzvah of tzitzis. This is Part 2, so if you haven’t yet listened to Part 1, it should be in your podcasting feed. Go back and take a listen.

Part 1 Recap

In Part 1, we asked some major questions about tzitzis: Why do we wear them? Are they supposed to ward off sin, somehow? I pointed out that that hasn't quite been my experience of tzitzis; they don’t ward away the cheeseburgers. And we asked questions about some tzitzis oddities, like the blue string. Why does it need to be blue? Why can’t it be red or hot pink? And the name “tzitzis,” which means sprouts or blossoms, and the fact that they’re called gedilim in Deuteronomy and how that seemed strange. So in today’s episode, we’ll make an attempt at answering those questions, and I think the best place to start is where we left off, where we saw how tzitzis draws from the story of the Spies, as if tzitzis somehow would prevent the sin of the Spies from happening in the future. We noticed that the people’s sense of unworthiness is what seems to  have caused them to abandon their relationship with God, to believe that God was setting them up to fail, sending them into a land with giants. Tzitzis, somehow, are supposed to help us with that sense of unworthiness. But how? Daniel and I pick up our conversation with that thread -- pun intended. You know, because tzitzis have threads? I mean, they have strings. But that’s kind of like a thread...never mind. Here we go:

The Color Blue

All right, so we’re trying to figure out how tzitzis can be an antidote to shame or low self-worth, and maybe let’s start by thinking about the color. The Torah makes a big deal about the fact that tzitzis have to be blue, and given everything that we’ve seen, does that make any more sense now? Do you have an idea about what that’s about?

Daniel: Um, maybe. I guess one possibility is that there’s something kind of dignified or special about the color blue, like it's a royal color. I know it gets used a lot in the Mishkan, you know, on the priestly clothes and on other things. And I think the description we get of Mordechai in the Megillah, also, is that he...it makes a big deal about him wearing special clothes, and one of the clothes is described as תְּכֵלֶת. So maybe it’s about dignity...?

Imu: I definitely think that’s a part of it, but I actually think it's even more than that. Remember we brought up that Gemara about how תְּכֵלֶת is like the sea, and that’s like the sky, and that’s like God's Throne?

Daniel: I do.

Imu: Well, what does that suggest about the color blue? It makes it sound like there's something Godly about it, which is funny, right? Like, oh, God has a favorite color? But the thing is, the Sages didn't make this up. God's Throne as being associated with the color blue, that comes straight from the Biblical text. In Exodus 24, Moses, Aaron, Aaron’s sons Nadav and Avihu, and seventy elders go up the Mountain of God: וַיִּרְאוּ אֵת אֱלֹקי יִשְׂרָאֵל - And they see God, whatever that means. וְתַחַת רַגְלָיו כְּמַעֲשֵׂה לִבְנַת הַסַּפִּיר - And beneath His feet was a brick of sapphire, sort of like a footstool. וּכְעֶצֶם הַשָּׁמַיִם לָטֹהַר - And the color of that brick, it was as clear as the blue sky in its purity (Exodus 24:10). 

I don't know what to make of that mysterious story, but it feels like the imagery the Torah is going for is clear: The clear blue sky, the Heavens that we can see, that is God's footstool. God is above us, and we don't have direct access to Him, but the sky that we see everyday, that's where His feet, as it were, rest. Which means that there's something Godly about blue.

So, if we’re putting on these strings, and they have to be this Godly color, we’re already kind of seeing where this might be headed.

Daniel: Yeah, like, there's something Godly that...well what? That's in us? That we should strive for? Yeah, like you said, there's something, but we need to fill in a few more blanks.

Imu: Yeah, and we're almost there, but let me just spend another minute with you on this Gemara because, remember how we wanted to understand what the point was of the whole chain of תְּכֵלֶת to sea to sky to God? So I actually have a theory about that, and I think that it will help us fill in those blanks. And I want to explain it by telling you about a realization I had a couple of years ago, and it came to me because of the office that Aleph Beta used to reside in on Bayview Avenue, aptly named because it was... 

Daniel: ...has a view of the Bay.

Imu: It does indeed. Not that anyone should get the wrong idea about this office. It was literally a warehouse with trucks, you know, pulling goods in and out. And we had an office on top of them which, much to Rabbi Fohrman’s chagrin because of all the noise, but -- 

Daniel: Rabbi Fohrman used to love to comment about their bonesaw.

Imu: Exactly, it sounded like a bonesaw. Recording there was very hard, but something magical did happen there, and that was, you know, sunrise and sunset that sometimes I would get to see. And what I kind of realized is that the bay is one giant mirror. There would be those beautiful sunsets where the sky was purple and orange and the clouds were doing their really cool things. And because it was overlooking the bay, the whole world would be consumed by that, because what was happening above was reflected exactly in what was happening below. On days that were really gray and cloudy, it wasn’t a pretty view, it was just gray everywhere. But most of the time, when the sky was clear, the water was blue. It just hit me in an instant that there's this mirror that, whatever was happening above was happening below, but it...

Daniel: Yeah, I remember. It was really nice to just, you know, take a break for a couple of minutes and just stare at the skyline there. I’m really curious where you’re going with this, though.

Imu: We wanted to know, why don’t the Sages just skip the water part? Why not skip all of it and say תְּכֵלֶת is domeh (similar to) to the Kisei HaKavod (God’s Throne)? Say, “Everybody knows that blue is the color of God’s Glorious Throne.” So here's what I think: I think that we don't say that because we don't often see God’s Glorious Throne, right? Like...

Daniel: I love how you said “often;” we don't “often” see His Throne.

Imu: Exactly, right?

Daniel: It's like, you know, maybe once a month, not more than that.

Imu: Exactly.

So, we don't see God’s Throne, but I think the reason for these linkages is because the sky is far away but the water is tangible, and it’s דומה לרקיע; it's akin to the sky. So it's almost like, if I want to be close to the sky, then what I can do is be close to the water. And maybe that's the same thing with the sky and God's Throne. Like, if you want to be close to God's Throne, then the best thing you can do is try to get close to the sky. And maybe when we wear תְּכֵלֶת, it's a way of reminding ourselves to kind of aspire to be close to God. Like us, terrestrial, physical humans with all the things that separate us from the Heavens above. We can still try to make ourselves closer to God by connecting to what's near him, or what's near what's near him.

Daniel: Interesting. Yeah, so kind of like....I think the way I'm hearing what you're saying is like, even though it might seem like God and His Throne are so completely transcendent and removed, there's no bridge that gets us from here to there, and even the sky, which somehow mirrors God's Throne, that's intangible to us. And the sea is only an imitation of that, and that's only a little more tangible to us. We can't live there or anything. The best we can do, the only thing we can physically be close to is something that has the color of the sea. 

But like, what you're kind of saying is, yes, but that's a “glass half-empty” kind of way of looking at things. On the other hand, how great is it that we have this physical thing that has this property that's Divine-ish, that we can meditate on, and through it actually feel closer to all these layers of distance. That's what your image of the bay is kind of evoking for me, that's what it's making me think about. As separate as sky and water are, there's also this way that they get so close that they kind of like, you know, blur together. And, you know, maybe there’s a way that we can use תְּכֵלֶת to kind of do something similar and like, you know, blur through all those layers. Is that kind of what you're saying?

Imu: Cool, right?

Daniel: Very nice.

Imu: So we're getting this idea that tzitzis are providing this path to being Godly, and that being Godly somehow might be this antidote to shame. But that's still kind of vague, and I think some of the other clues we had about tzitzis, some of the other details, the laws, they actually point to a much more specific way they help with the issues the Spies had in the desert. So let's talk about where the tzitzis go.

The “Wings” of Your Clothes

Where do we put these tzitzis? These tzitzis go עַל־כַּנְפֵי בִגְדֵיהֶם (Numbers 15:39). How would you translate that?

Daniel: “On the corners of your clothes.”

Imu: Yes, except that kanaf almost never means “corners” in the Five Books of Moses. Kanaf is a common word, and it means...?

Daniel: It means “wings.”

Imu: And God is telling you, “I want you to put tzitzis on your wings.” Like you're supposed to put wings on. You feel unworthy? You see yourselves as lowly, base people? You're not. You have wings. What else...?

Daniel: Oh, wow. You know what I’m thinking? We’re talking all about tzitzis and תְּכֵלֶת as Godliness, and wings...like, the idea that we have wings, or our clothes have wings, that could actually be saying the same kind of thing. Because wings aren’t just an image that evokes flying and loftiness and that kind of thing, but it also directly evokes God. There are places in the Torah where we actually get references to God’s wings. 

Imu: Yeah, right. At Revelation, this is how He introduces Himself to us. It says: וָאֶשָּׂא אֶתְכֶם עַל־כַּנְפֵי, there’s that word again, עַל־כַּנְפֵי נְשָׁרִים - On the wings of eagles (Exodus 19:4). I carried you on the wings of eagles. So, almost as if God is saying, “I am this mother bird. I've carried you on My wings. If I'm the Mother Bird, that makes you baby eagles. I have wings, and you have wings.” You know that superhero analogy we were using. If you had powers, would you fly? God is saying, “Yeah, you can. You can fly.” 

Daniel: And I think an even more specific reference to God as big, impressive protector bird over us little birds, we have in Haazinu, in the song at the very end of the Torah. We have: כְּנֶשֶׁר יָעִיר קִנּוֹ עַל־גּוֹזָלָיו יְרַחֵף - which is that God is like an eagle over the nest hovering over His גּוֹזָלָים, His little baby birds.  יִפְרֹשׂ כְּנָפָיו יִקָּחֵהוּ - and He spreads his wings over them, and He takes them, יִשָּׂאֵהוּ עַל־אֶבְרָתוֹ - and He carries them (Deuteronomy 32:11).

Imu: There’s that word again, knafav. So it's not a stretch, right? God appears as this bird to us, and He's sort of saying, “Hey, you also have wings.” 

How are tzitzis an antidote to shame? Well, we are people of the earth, we’re not of the Heavens, but God symbolically asks us to put on wings. We can’t reach the Heavens, so we take the dye that we find in the sea, the sea that mirrors the Heavens, and we use that to get as close to God as we possibly can.

Seedlings and Trees

We’re close to putting everything together. We’ve got a theory that explains so many of our questions: Why blue? Why corners? What’s up with the Gemara? But there’s still one giant piece that’s missing: The name of the actual thing. Why is this thing called “tzitzis,” sprouts, seedlings? That’s the next thing we turn to, to complete the puzzle.

I was discussing these ideas with Beth Lesch, who is our editor for this piece. She said, “This is all really nice, but you never discussed any of the stuff you were talking about with ‘tzitz’ meaning a blossom or a plant,” and I said to her, “You know, Beth, I think that's a red herring. We’ve got to cut that from the podcast, we just won't ask that question. We have some really beautiful stuff here on the Spies and on תְּכֵלֶת. We could leave it at that.” And Beth found that really dissatisfying, because all of the energy of what we're talking about right now really comes from these wings, which is just the corners of clothing, not the tzitzis themselves. And it seems really strange that the whole ritual would be named “tzitzis” and that would be sort of beside the point. 

So Beth said, when she was listening to the tape of us discussing how a tzitz is this blossom, she said she was picturing like a little, green seedling that's just barely peeking out of the soil. And she asked me, and so I'll ask you, what would be the symbolism of that? Of a little green seedling just barely peeking out of the soil.

Daniel: What first really comes to mind is potential.

Imu: Yeah, so, what is a seedling? On the one hand, it's puny. It's nothing. But actually, it's potential. It's going to be a tree. It's going to be a redwood. 

Daniel: Oh, interesting. Another way that תְּכֵלֶת and sky comes in there with links to plants. Plants are very connected to the sky, they reach towards the sky. The biggest plants that have achieved their full potential, we think of them as being in the sky. 

Imu: Yeah, and I think that's a beautiful point, because plants are an incredible metaphor as a being, right, because where are their roots? They're in the earth. They’re the most rooted thing that can possibly be. They're in the ground, they're lowly, but if you let their potential blossom, they touch the sky. So now, if you think about the other way the Torah talks about tzitzis, it's not just called tzitzis, they’re gedilim. What do you make of that word? 

Potential to Grow

Daniel: Gedilim comes from the word “to grow.” Look at that.

Imu: They’re growers. So you think it's this small, puny thing, but actually, this is potential, this is something that is going to grow. So I said to Beth, the metaphors seem like they're all over the place, right? On the one hand, it's plants. On the other hand, there are wings. 

Daniel: Yeah, but I mean, the way we’re seeing everything now, all the metaphors are really saying the same thing. It’s all about growing or reaching or striving. Like, accepting that you might not be awesome or mighty or, I don’t know, high-achieving or a really good person from a moral standpoint, or whatever. The point is, you might actually see yourself as small, as a sprout, but sprouts grow, and things that have wings, they can fly.

Imu: So it's sort of like this same idea of, how do you view yourself? Do you view yourself as a bird without your wings stretched? Do you view yourself as a plant, as a seedling, that is small and stubby? Or do you see yourself as an eagle in flight, or as a tree that is growing and can eventually reach the sky?

So let me just take you, one more time, back to the Meraglim, right, to the Spies. What was the issue? How did they see themselves?

Daniel: They saw themselves as חֲגָבִים, as grasshoppers. 

Imu: What do you make of that, now that we’ve seen all these plants and bird analogies?

Daniel: Interesting. It feels like grasshoppers are not just small, but they're also, like, very much bound to the ground.

Imu: They're flightless. They're not, you know,  flies. It could have been the puny fly, right? They’re these grasshoppers next to giants, right? The text says: עַם גָּדוֹל וָרָם מִמֶּנּוּ - there's that word that we use for gedilim, there is a nation that is bigger mimenu (than we), עָרִים גְּדֹלֹת וּבְצוּרֹת בַּשָּׁמָיִם - They had these cities that are גְּדֹלֹת; again, that word, fortified (Deutoronomy 1:28). They were so high, they were in the sky. Here we are, we’re grass people. We are low. It's like A Bug's Life. They're big, they're gadol, and they're בַּשָּׁמָיִם, so God gives us clothing, wings, to be up in the sky. “You're small now, but you're going to grow. You're going to be gedilim yourselves. They’re gadol? You're going to wear gedilim.”

Daniel: So, seeing tzitzis as, like, wearing the clothes that make you believe in your own significance, because all this symbolism is about greatness and reaching the sky, and, like, the opposite of feeling that smallness that was the source of all the trouble in the desert. On my very body itself, I'm attaching תְּכֵלֶת, I'm attaching tzitzis, which maybe is some sort of indication of the ability to grow and תְּכֵלֶת is that thing that's Godly. It's a reminder that I have that connection and that potential towards Godliness on my physical body all the time.

Imu: I actually think that this is a lovely idea because it takes tzitzis...Tzitzis 1.0 and Tzitzis 2.0. 1.0 is really true, but it's one-dimensional, and that is, “Hey, you humans, you forget to follow God. You are straying and here's a reminder. Tie it around your finger and keep reminding yourself of God. Do the mitzvos, do the mitzvos, do the mitzvos.” And that's not wrong, it's true, but I think there's a more subtle version of it, which is, “Hey, you humans, you like to beat yourself up all the time. Before God can reject you, you're already rejecting yourselves, and that self-rejection leads you to say some really horrible, painful things to a God who has only loved you and nurtured you.” And God is saying, “No, the way to deal with your lack of feeling worthy is, just dress the part. Just put on your growers. You feel small, but feel small in the way that a tree feels small, because you're going to be a redwood. One day, you're going to be touching the sky, and recognize that you are worthy. And even if you're not, you will be one day, and that's enough”. And I think that that has tremendous meaning for us in the 21st century. Tzitzis are not just a command for the people of the desert. They're not this way of preventing the Spies story from ever happening again for that generation. They're given to us. 

Daniel: You know it's, it's really interesting that you say that, because I'm just remembering: When I was taking English in high school, we read The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, by T.S Elliot. And the whole thrust of the poem is kind of these very human, base moments of deciding what pants you're going to wear, and how many spoons of coffee you're going to put in your coffee cup. And then this argument of, how can we believe in epic destiny and us being major protagonists of our own lives if our lives are so base and silly and mundane? And there's this line at the end: “I am no Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be.” Maybe there's this kind of abstract concept of the big tragic hero or important person, but I'm like the little extra in Act Three that nobody remembers. Yeah, I could totally see a version of this temptation existing nowadays. We're sort of like, “I'm holy? I have this epic destiny as part of God's people with this grand chain of history that's still in the process of unfolding? That must be someone else. That's not me.”

Imu: Do you think that who you are is somebody small? Are you a grasshopper because you have to choose what pants to put on and how many spoons of coffee go in your cup? By the way, the answer to that is zero. We don't drink instant coffee; we're not barbarians.

Daniel: I drink instant coffee, you jerk.

Imu: But instead, you know, tzitzis remind you of your majesty. Are you living your life as part of a majestic endeavor, as part of someone who is קְדֹשִׁים לֵאלֹקיכֶם, as someone who's holy to God, but overall you’re pledged to something larger? 

You know, for many of us, there's plenty of mundane work, and mundane doesn't just mean what pants you're choosing and how many spoons of (ugh) instant coffee you're putting in your cup. But just the work of everyday life, of going to work, making money, raising kids, that might feel mundane, too. And I think that there is some level of z’nus, some level of betraying a sacred relationship with God, when we feel maybe a little bit of shame or unworthiness. Sort of saying, like, “I don't think of myself as a Godly person because there's so much other stuff in my life. So, sure, I'll show up to shul on Shabbos, and sure, I’ll keep the holidays, but I'm not always really all that engaged in my relationship with God.” Our religious lives might be a little more compartmentalized.

Daniel: It sounds like what you're saying is that, when you look at the mundane things in your life, and then you kind of compare that to what your life might be, or like what kind of higher calling you might answer to, that's when that sense of unworthiness creeps in.

Imu: I think the temptation to compartmentalize comes from this feeling of low self-worth, of mediocrity; of like, “You know, if I really were part of something more lofty, than I would...I'd be about that all the time. I wouldn’t have all these “un-lofty” things filling up my time.” But I think, possibly, tzitzis are this antidote. They’re this reminder of how high we can reach, and that we never need to think of ourselves as plain and unworthy of God’s love.

So you kind of need to be able to do the thing that God does, which is to say, “You're not going to be perfect, and you still need to choose to see yourselves as growers.” A grower is somebody who's not yet perfect, but I’m growing. So that’s one thing, and the other thing that I'm saying is taking the mundane and making it holy. And the same way that a tree is rooted in the ground, right, in the same way, in Judaism, you can be a farmer, you can be a doctor, you can be a carpenter, you can be a hedge fund something-or-other, and your arms are in the sky, and you're dedicated to something larger than that. You elevate that, and those aren't contradictions. You're not either in the Heavens or on the earth. You can be a bird that takes flight, you can be a tree that extends upward, and I think that there's this powerful ritual of tzitzis every morning where you kind of remind yourself of that. You remind yourself of potential. Because otherwise, you might fall prey to seeing yourself as a grasshopper. 

Daniel, thank you so much for joining me on this journey.

Daniel: Thank you for taking me along.

Imu: I have to say, looking back now, after a few sessions of talking this material over, my experience of putting on tzitzis in the mornings has been completely changed. 

When I used to put my tallis (prayer shawl) on in shul, sometimes arriving late, I’d try and wrap myself and murmur the blessings as fast as I can so I can get on with the rest of davening (the prayer service). But now, I sort of slow down when I get to shul. Putting my tallis on is a special moment that I try to steal for myself. There’s this visceral feeling I get when I wrap myself in my tallis, that I’m being wrapped by Godly wings. It’s like this Divine hug. And yeah, I feel dignified. I stand a little taller, I feel more regal, and I’m struck by how I’m seeing myself, in my own eyes, as a dignified being. And then I look down at the tzitzis and the strands of blue and consider that these wings that I’m wearing, they’re sky-tipped. That although I’m a lowly earth-bound being, I am transcendent, too. I can touch the sky, and I am brimming with potential. There’s something deeply intimate and lovely about connecting with my Creator by getting in touch with my own worthiness. In that sense, tzitzis have truly felt like a gift from God.

And I just want to add that, it’s kind of weird, there’s something intuitive to many people, certainly intuitive to me, about the role of guilt and shame in religious growth. For me, guilt and shame have always felt like noble feelings, like I have a conscience and it’s reprimanding me for not living according to my values. It says, “Yeah, you should’ve spoken more nicely. Yeah, you should’ve went to that minyan (prayer quorum). Yeah, you’re really not living up to your potential.” 

And yet, I’ve also experienced that guilt and shame have really limited value in spurring me to grow. And worse than that, they’re not a really sustainable way of growing. At a certain point, my quote-unquote conscience is really a bully, shaming me, yelling at me to do better and be better. And the dark side of shame and unworthiness, what we saw happen with the Spies, is a sort of learned helplessness. Total resignation that I’ll never live up to my potential, which is really nothing but destructive.

I think the secret of tzitzis is that there is another way, and it’s somewhat counter-intuitive. It’s a kind of growth that comes from first believing in our worthiness. Turns out, in my life, I am faster to make an apology when I spend less time agonizing about what a terrible person I am. I’m a more joyful and easygoing parent when I don’t let my mistakes get to me and define me as a failure of a father. And sure, there’s a fear that gnaws at me that if I don’t wrestle with my guilt, that if I don’t hate myself just a little bit, I’ll turn into a full-blown sociopathic narcissist who forgives himself everything and will be unbridledly selfish. But what if that’s not our nature? What if thinking of ourselves as dignified, as angelic, as a tree mid-growth is a fearless way of fostering the best in us?

That’s the headspace I get into when I wrap myself in my tallis. Not looking at the lows, but at the dignity and the potential, the Godliness, inside of me. And I hope for you, our listeners, tzitzis inspires you to reach for the Heavens, too.

Credits: 

This episode was recorded by Imu Shalev and Daniel Loewenstein.

The scholar for this episode was Imu Shalev.

The senior editor was Daniel Loewenstein with additional editing by Beth Lesch.

Our audio editor is me, Hillary Guttman.

Our managing producer is Adina Blaustein.

Meaningful Judaism’s editorial director is Imu Shalev.

Thanks for listening, and we’ll see you next time.