Human nature is to be forgetful, even in the midst of doing something. This human frailty is what leads the Mishnah (11a) to rule that a tailor may not go into the street with his needle nor may a scribe go out with his quill on Friday afternoons just before dark, lest they forget and accidentally carry their materials on Shabbat (in a place which has no eruv). Yet, the Gemarah (12a) rules that one may go out while wearing tefillin late on Friday afternoon, as “Rava bar Rav Hunah taught that one is obligated to feel his tefillin every moment and moment”. It was inconceivable that one might not be aware that one was wearing tefillin and thus accidentally continue wearing them on Shabbat; hence, the lenient ruling.
The fact that today, this lack of awareness is sadly conceivable is seen by the fact that we limit the wearing of tefillin to when we daven shacharit—period. And even then, my personal experience tells me that the tefillin-wearer is not always thinking about the tefillin, the davening, or a relationship with G-d (if your experience is different, please let me know your secret). To wear them after shacharit—and certainly, to walk in the street wearing them—is an inappropriate display of yuhara, religious arrogance.
We wear tefillin today because we are obligated to do so; to volunteer to do more than the most basic obligation is a risky business, reserved only for the most pious. And while we encourage women to do other mitzvoth from which they are technically exempt—shofar, lulav, and sukkah, for example—such is not the case when it comes to tefillin. While it is not technically prohibited for women to wear tefillin, it is strongly discouraged. If the rabbis could, they would likely exempt men from wearing them; they already have limited the mitzvah to about 4% of the optimal time. But alas, the Torah commands men to wear tefillin on weekdays.
Our general lack of concentration when we perform mitzvoth has another, most interesting application relating to one’s wedding night. Talmud Brachot exempts a groom from reciting the shema on his wedding night, because it is just not realistic to expect him to be thinking about accepting the yoke of heaven then. However, the Tosafists point out that this exemption is no longer applicable. You see, the laws implies that all year round, one is actually thinking about accepting the yoke of heaven when one recites the shema; and that only on very special occasions, i.e., one’s wedding night, one does not. However, tosafot note that “today”—meaning some 700 years ago—it would be quite arrogant to make such a claim. Thus, we are to say the shema every night without exception. Perhaps on some of them, we might actually think of G-d.
While some might find this depressing, I actually find our sages’ realism uplifting; they understood the difficulty in focusing our minds towards G-d, and adjusted religious practices accordingly. Yet, at the same time, we must strive to reach higher. Wearing tefillin should not be the same as carrying a quill—or even a smartphone.
