Escorting some family members on visit to the Western Wall, Liel Leibovitz succumbed to an invitation from a stranger to don phylacteries—and unexpectedly experienced a sublime moment. Thereafter he began to perform the ritual regularly. He writes:
Every morning, for months now, I rise, wrap the straps around my arm and over my head, read the prayers, and fret: am I doing this right? Is the ritual’s force diminished by my disregard of so many other commandments? Can I truly clear my heart and my mind as I pray and maintain the purity of intention one desires when attempting to converse with the heavens? These are deep questions, and I’ve got no good answers. I put them on, even though I don’t fully understand why.
Which, it turns out, is more or less the point. . . .
[A]s I stood at my breakfast table, morning after morning, with the velvety t’fillin pouch at hand, I found understanding slowly trickling in. Not, mind you, of any divine mysteries, or of any hidden spiritual realms previously inaccessible; these will come later, if they come at all. What I . . . felt—what I continue to feel—is a sense of realignment, slight but ever so important. When I leave the house now, I do it after having surveyed the expanse of my universe and set the Lord at its center. I may then munch on that cheeseburger for lunch, but even eating the treyfest of treats, I still retain something of the kavannah, the intention, generated during those few moments of morning-time consecration.
Read more on Tablet: http://www.tabletmag.com/jewish-life-and-religion/196231/tefillin-the-love