A year ago, my granddaughter, Raya, the oldest of our six grandchildren, asked a favor of me and I refused. I almost never refuse Raya a request but she asked if I would make a tallit for her when she becomes a Bat Mitzvah in October of 2004. I said, “No, I cannot do that. I am not a pious Jew. I am not religious enough. I do not read Hebrew”. Every excuse had to do with me. Raya said, “You can do it, grandmom. Think about it.” I thought about what would allow me to accept this request. How could I qualify myself to make a tallit.

From texts in our lessons I began to look for answers. I read that “Nothing matters except doing the right thing” and to “set aside my ego because what is greater than me is what counts.” Rabbi Yitzhak wrote that we should never be humble in our mitzvot. We should never say, “How could my deeds be important to G-d?” According to Jacob ben Asher, “we must be bold as a leopard and not hold back from performing a mitzvah”. It is written that a mitzvah is not only a commandment but any good deed or act of kindness. I then researched prayer and tallit and this is what I learned.

The most important prayer is the Shema Yisrael and this scripture is written in Hebrew on the neck-piece of the tallit. It is worn in fulfillment of the biblical command to remember the commandments, observe them and remember G-d but the sole purpose of the tallit is to hold the corner tzit tzit. It is worn during daylight prayers because one must see the threads of the tzitzit. Putting on the tallit is a mitzvah and separates the wearer from all daily matters, that this is the time for prayer. The tallit is often spread over the huppah during a wedding ceremony and when a man dies he is buried in the tallit that he wore in prayer. Since the 1970’s, in non-orthodox denominations of Judaism, the tallit may be worn by women.

The tallit is made of many fabrics, including wool, linen (never together), silk, man made fabrics and even lace and the fabric may have any decoration or symbolism, painted or embroidered. Each corner has a ritual macramé of threads that are knotted and wound in a prescribed manner. I learned that there is a rabbinic reason for every knot and twist and each Hebrew letter has a numerical value. The tzit tzit were originally attached by a cord dyed blue, but that blue dye is rare. Instead, blue or black stripes are placed on each panel. The white tassels and fringing have 613 knots, the same number of the commandments. There are five knots on each corner. The number of threads and the knotting form a pattern that spells, “G-d is one”.

This tallit was daunting to me, a challenge for a very ordinary, secular, Jewish woman. Nothing helped qualify me as a maker of a tallit. I am a painter but this was to be a religious garment and not a secular piece of art. The tallit had rules. It had to be accurate and it had to be made from the heart.

I began thinking of all the flaws and imperfections in my character. They stood out like beacons. I was the wrong person. However, after two months reviewing every negative reason, I did accept the request by my granddaughter as she knew I would. I should have realized that Raya, by her initial request, had qualified me to make the tallit just as G-d qualified Moses and Jonah and Abraham by asking them to serve Him. Moses was the most humble person who ever lived and he found excuses not to accept G-d’s mission because he did not trust his ability. Abraham spoke of himself as “but dust and ashes” trying to convince G-d how unworthy he was to be of service. There was Jonah and King David, who had to learn humility.

When did these great people find a middle ground, a balance between pride and humility? How do we know just when to step forward and accept and when to step back and defer. Some pride is necessary in order to defend oneself and if we take humility too far we would never do anything. I read that when you become conscious of the good that you do or when someone tells you of your goodness you should live knowing you are a fairly, decent person. Had I so little faith in my own granddaughter’s judgment?

From that day on it became my intention to become pure in thought and deed, like a nun, but what about humility, pride and patience? This is what happened.

Using a bolt of white bridal silk and my husband’s tallit for size, I cut several lengths of the silk realizing I would need extra IF I made a mistake. I purchased silk dyes and used one of my canvases, inverted, to stretch the silk. I drew several designs and began researching Noah’s ark, Mt. Atarat, olive trees, doves and the parshah itself. Raya chose one design and I began to paint, but it was not from the heart, I could tell. My focus was on how and not why the tallit was being made. Everything went wrong. The dyes ran, even beyond the silk resist I used. The colors were not what I wanted. The painting was stiff and heavy handed. Over and over again I worked on the panels without success. What was I doing – showing off a skill or giving Raya a gift?

I let go of my pride and with Raya in my mind as inspiration I took time to learn this new skill instead of assuming I knew everything. It was necessary to change my attitude and my behavior. Patiently, I painted and discarded practice panel after practice panel until I allowed the silk to show me how to care for it. Unlike canvas, it was special. After finishing the painting, I hand sewed the hems with silk thread and the atarah was sewn on and then the blue stripes and the four patches. I sat with Rabbi Amiran Gabay, an orthodox rabbi of Beit HaRambam Congregation and from whom I purchased the threads for the tzit tzit. He wrapped one corner. Together we tied the second corner. He watched as I wrapped the third and alone I tied the fourth corner. A tallit bag was made from one extra panel. The bag and tallit were finished.

Now, would I be bold enough to say, “This is my offering to you. It is the best I could do. Please accept it”. Was I worthy enough to visually glorify a bible story for the Bat Mitzvah of my granddaughter? What arrogance I had in presuming this tallit would be accepted.

So busy was I finding excuses, judging myself and prejudging everyone else I overlooked what was happening, what I had not thought about. A balance had been realized between pride and humility and several things took place. I learned that the deed was more important than myself. The tallit was a mitzvah for Raya and Raya was making a statement by wanting to be a female wearing a tallit on the bimah in her very conservative synagogue. And most important, by Raya’s request of me she was performing a mitzvah. Her request was an honor that she had bestowed upon her grandmother. I had to accept her request because I could not prevent Raya from performing her mitzvah.

She loved the tallit and the bag and I accepted her kind words with some pride.

February 2005
Presented to the Ethics Class
On Pride, Humility and Patience
Gratz College
Elkins Park, Pa.