After accusing my brother of being responsible for much ‘internecine’ conflict, we got on to discussing whether a word can be part of language if no-one (or nearly no-one) knows what it means. Clearly, yes.
Whenever someone asks what ‘tefillin’ are, someone always helpfully responds that they are ‘phylacteries’. Given that neither the person giving the explanation, nor the person receiving it, know what phylacteries mean, it is a bit of a conversation stopper. The person who originally asked is too embarrassed to question any further. There is the implicit assumption that as it is a translation, or explanation, they should now have a good idea what it is.
It is quite clear that ‘phylacteries’ is part of the language- even if (now) only as a synonym for tefillin. Presumably phylacteries did have some wider meaning in English such that, rather than being a translation, it compared it to a class of things that an English speaker would already be familiar with. I assumed it would be something like “ritual clothing” or “strapped boxes” or some other category of which tefillin was one member.
Out of curiosity, I looked it up. The first definition was just a description of tefillin. The second however, was “amulet” which means: “an ornament often inscribed with a magic incantation or symbol to aid the wearer or protect against evil”. This is a bastardization of the practice and is, unfortunately, indicative of the superstitions that have entered Jewish consciousness. No doubt this is what Rav Hirsch complains about when he says:
institutions which were designed and ordained for the internal and external purification and betterment of man as mechanical, dynamical, or magical formulas for the up-building of higher worlds, and . . . thus the observances meant for the education of the spirit to a nobler life were but too frequently degraded into mere amuletic or talismanic performances
Even today Chassidic groups will be put tefillin on people even when there is no kavannah (intention) or meaningful experience of any kind. It is not done as a mitzvah, or done for the symbolism (e.g. to dedicate emotions and intellect to Hashem), or done as a prayer aid, or pride that you are now Barmitzvah, or as an expression of solidarity with your people. For me, this is worthless. Others will thing that sticking cow to your head will influence ‘upper worlds’.
Judaism doesn’t need magic, but then again, there is no need for internecine conflict.
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Afterthought:
If you want spiritual improvement, do the mitzvot. If you want to be “protected from evil”, stay away from the miracle workers. You are need of much more sensible advice than wearing tefillin, such as that proffered by the ‘Brisker Rov’, Reb Hayym Soloveitchik (HT: here):
Two women, who came for advice, gave me their story the impression what this interesting man [Brisker Rov] stood for. One of them had an epileptic child. She had had a dream in which a miraculous cure was indicated and wished to know the rabbi’s advice. He remained calm. “You take him to Warsaw,” he said, “and consult a specialist, as I told you before.”
The second woman had a more complicated case. Her husband claimed a commission on a real estate transaction with a Polish noble. The latter refused to pay, and as R. Hayyim afterwards explained to me, properly. The claimant was one of the numerous “Luftmenschen” of the Pale, men without any definite occupation, who had heard of an estate that was for sale, talked about it to the count or to one of his employees and after the deal had been closed demanded a compensation. The count in good old eighteenth century fashion told him, if he should bother him again, he would give him a sound drubbing. R. Hayyim asked: “what do you want me to do?” “The Rabbi shall give my husband a blessing so that he shall find grace in the eyes of the Poriz.” “I can’t give you a blessing,” was the reply. “The Aibishter alone cane give you a blessing, but I advise you to select a representative person who shall talk to the Poriz, perhaps he may obtain a concession”.
Or as (possibly apocryphally) told of his grandson Rav J.B. Soloveitchik:
Talmid: Rebbe, can you bless me?
Soloveitchik: What are you? An apple?
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