Turning Our Earthly Works Heavenward
Tzitzit are among the most ubiquitous symbols in the Jewish tradition, and the Torah intended them to serve as one of its most powerful means of fostering an ongoing relationship between humanity and the Divine. One verse in particular stands out in this regard:
“And it shall be for you as a fringe (tzitzit); you shall see it (oto) and be mindful of all the Lord’s commandments and do them.” (Numbers 15:39)
Without going into too much technical detail, tzitzit are ritual fringes attached to the corners of a four-cornered garment. Originally, they consisted of white threads together with a specially dyed blue thread (tekhelet) wound among them. For much of the past two thousand years, the method of producing the blue dye was lost, and only white threads were worn. In recent times, however, the process for producing tekhelet has been rediscovered, making it possible to revive this ancient practice.
The verse above, while seemingly straightforward, raises an interesting grammatical question. Since the word tzitzit is feminine, to what does the phrase “you shall see it” refer, given that oto is a masculine pronoun?
The earliest extant midrash on this verse understands oto as referring specifically to the petil—the thread (a masculine noun), namely the tekhelet thread:
Rabbi Meir says: It does not say here, “and you shall see them”; rather, it says, “and you shall see it.” Scripture teaches that whoever fulfills the mitzvah of tzitzit is regarded as though he had received the presence of the Shekhinah, for tekhelet resembles the color of the sea, the sea resembles the color of the firmament, and the firmament resembles the color of the Throne of Glory… (adapted from Sifrei Bemidbar 115, Kahana ed., p. 322)
Rashi, basing his interpretation on a different midrashic tradition, either avoids the grammatical difficulty altogether or assumes that tzitzit can also function as a masculine noun:
The tzitzit remind a person of all the commandments because the numerical value of the word tzitzit is six hundred. Adding the eight threads and five knots yields six hundred and thirteen, the traditional number of commandments in the Torah. (See Tanhuma, Korah 12)
According to Rashi, the numerical value of tzitzit is 600; when the eight threads and five knots are added, the total reaches 613, the number traditionally assigned to the Torah’s mitzvot. The tzitzit thus serve as a constant reminder of the obligation to observe all of God’s commandments. Rashi may have preferred this interpretation in part because tekhelet was no longer available in his time.
Other French exegetes follow Rashi’s line of interpretation. For example, Rabbi Yosef Bekhor Shor (12th century) writes:
For it was made only for remembering; and when you see this commandment, you remember and are careful to keep the commandments. For the fringes are like a seal on one’s clothing—like the mark a master places on a slave to indicate subjugation. When Israel see [the fringes], they remember that they are subjugated to the Blessed Holy One and are obligated to fulfill all His commandments.
Interestingly, Bekhor Shor here, perhaps unknowingly, anticipates what archaeology has since confirmed: in the ancient Near East, the fringes of one’s garment functioned as an indicator of social status.
Rabbi Hizkiyah ben Manoah (Hizkuni; France, 13th century), another member of Rashi’s school of interpretation, offers a broader theological insight:
When God created the world, He did not create anything that could not be used to perform a commandment. If a farmer goes out to plow his field, he must take care not to use an ox and a donkey together. If he goes out to sow seeds, he must ensure he does not violate the prohibition of mixing species. If he goes out to harvest, he must not reap the field completely. If his wife bakes bread—or prepares dough—she must set aside a portion for the priest… What applies to agricultural and domestic life also applies to the clothing we wear. God has provided us with opportunities to fulfill commandments even in this sphere, despite the fact that we are not obligated to wear four-cornered garments or to avoid mixing wool and linen unless we choose to do so.
It is fascinating how the tradition transforms a grammatical difficulty into a profound religious message. The journey begins with an article of clothing that turns our eyes heavenward, prompting awareness of the divine will, and culminates in a vision in which all human action can be oriented toward God. In turn, even the most mundane aspects of life are infused with a spark of the divine. Few ideas are more quintessentially Jewish.
