Last year I felt it was time for me to get myself a new tallis for Shabbos. You probably assume that as a tallit seller with considerable inventory, I just got up from my desk, pulled a tallit off the shelf and tied on some tzitzis.

Not exactly.

Truth be told, it took me months to decide which tallit to go with. I don’t know whether to attribute that to an indecisive personality or tallit information overload. Eventually I managed to make up my mind.

Then recently it happened again, the dilemma over tough choices. This time I needed a tallit bag. What’s so hard about choosing a tallit bag? Well, I’m a bit quirky. I’m not into nylon (have you read the post about my Aunt Enus’ couches?), so I’ve never put my tallit and tefillin bags in those clear nylon zippered tallit bag covers. Most of the year I put my tallit and tefillin on at home, before setting out for Shacharis (see Orech Chaim 25, 2), and don’t take them off til I’m back home. But today we got our first rain, so it’s time to start getting serious about a plan to get to Shacharis on rainy days.

In recent years, leather and faux leather tallit/tefillin bags have become quite popular. And they really are a great idea. If you’re the type of person who has a classy leather briefcase, you’ll probably agree that a classy leather tallit/tefillin bag is a good idea. And if that’s beyond your price range, there are plenty of very affordable PU (imitation leather) tallit bags that will do the job. 

One of the obvious advantages of this setup is that it’s a bit simpler, since it’s essentially a two-piece set instead of three. Typically the tallit bag is roomy enough for you to put the tefillin bag inside. And voila! you’re set to go in style, with a reasonably weather-proof bag. (Note that your tefillin are protected by two layers of leather.)

While skimming this Wikipedia article about Jewish populations by country, I noticed that Stockholm is a lot higher up on the list than I would have expected. With approximately 9,000 Jews, Stockholm has the 15th largest Jewish population among European cities; and if you were to take France out of the equation (i.e. Paris, Marseille, Strasburg, Nice, Lyon and Toulouse), Stockholm would be among the top ten European cities. According to one estimate, the Jewish population of Stockholm may be as high as 14,000.

According to the European Jewish Congress, there are also significant Jewish populations in Gothenburg and Malmö. A large portion of the country’s Jews descended from refugees and immigrants from Hungary, Poland, Denmark and the former Soviet Union.

Although not a very scientific statistical sample, I took a quick glance at our tallit orders from Sweden over the past year, and found that one-fourth went to customers in Stockholm.

What are our Swedish customers buying? A fairly even mix of tallits, tzitzit and tefillin.

This year Israelis were astonished to encounter severe milk shortages starting shortly after Rosh Hashana and continuing for weeks.

Every year milk supplies become a bit scant in the later summer, because cows produce less milk in the heat. This year that was exacerbated by the holiday calendar, since none of the Yom Tov days overlapped with Shabbat, meaning there were even fewer work days than usual during the month of Tishrei. Furthermore, fewer Israelis traveled abroad due to COVID-19, which led to greater consumption. Critics said the dairy plants could have prepared better, arguing that the supply and demand issues were foreseeable.

Today I learned from an insider at one of Israel’s largest tallit manufacturer’s that some of the above applied to tallit production. Every year they find it challenging keeping up with demand leading up to Pesach and Rosh Hashana, but this year before Rosh Hashana there was an acute tallit shortage largely because they miscalculated, assuming demand would be down because of COVID economics. 

They are now literally working day and night to close the gap, and we too are in a bind, since certain very common tallit and tzitzit products are completely unavailable, therefore we have had to remove them from our web store temporarily.

Yesterday at our Shabbos table I asked my kids who knows where a tallit is mentioned in this week’s parshah. The answer lies in Chapter 9, Verse 23. Based on a Midrash, Rashi asks why the verb at the start of the verse is in the singular form (ויקח) when seemingly it should be in the plural, since it refers to both Shem and Yefet.

The answer is that the Torah is teaching us that the deed is attributed more to Shem than Yefet, because Shem exerted himself more. 

As elucidated in Be’er Mayim Chayaim, for covering their father to guard his dignity, both were rewarded with a covering of dignity: Shem’s offspring were rewarded with a garment with tzitzit (what we call a tallit today), while Yefet’s offspring were rewarded with burial in Eretz Yisrael (see Yechezkel 39:11).

On
Erev Rosh Hashana 5782, just as I was closing the office, I heard Shraga, a local locksmith, at the
gate. He said he needed a tallis for Yom Tov. About 99% of our sales are sent abroad; only a
handful of people from the neighborhood happen to
know about the business, and they usually pop in close to Shabbos and Yom Tov.

I knew Shraga would
want a black-striped tallit with a conservative look, so I showed him Hamefoar
and Tashbetz. He couldn’t decide, so he asked if he could take them both and run home to
ask his wife which one she liked best. Before he stepped out he asked if we had
a tallis with a lining. I replied that we don’t keep them in stock, but have them
sewn on, which takes at least a day or two.

“Hey, what’s that
tallit over there?” he asked. 

“Oh, that Mefoar Prestige, but it’s a lot more
expnsive. It’s Talitania’s top-of-the-line product. Plush weave, superb finishing
work, double-knotted fringes, and it comes with lining and side bands. What do you need
the lining for?” I asked. 

“I have a hefty atara to sew on. Lemme
take this one, too, and we’ll see what my wife has to say.”

Ten minutes later he
was back. “Of course she liked the most expensive one,” he said with a grin,
pulling out his wallet.

A few days later I
saw Shraga during Shacharis on Shabbos, wearing the new tallis. Later I went
up to Shraga to tell him his wife was right. He had sewn on a very stately looking
atara with silver squares surrounded by a unique black frame, and indeed the atara looked quite weighty, so it definitely needed a tallit of substance.

Here in Eretz Yisrael, there is a certain protocol for gift exchanges between the bride and groom at the engagement party (“Vort“). In the chareidi community, typically the groom’s family will gift the kallah a gold watch and other jewelry items, whereas the bride’s family will present the chassan with a set of Gemaras, and sometimes other gifts as well. That’s how it was back in my day, when I got married.

Nowadays, it seems the gift giving conventions have become more extensive and creative. At an engagement party this week, which came to my attention, the bride’s family presented a range of gifts all arrangement nicely in clear cellophane and put on display. It included a tallit and tefillin bag set with name embroidery, cuff links, a tie and more.

(Personally I have some qualms about the display: On one hand, it boosts the honor of the groom, but on the other hand I’m wondering if it could sometimes come to the point of conspicuous consumption that ups the ante and might make future grooms have expectations that are hard for their in-laws-to-be to meet.)

Of course, outside of Israel the customs and expectations differ, and obviously vary from one Jewish community to the next. Other gift ideas include a set of Machzorim or silver candlesticks for her; a shtender, etrog box, Megillah case or Kiddush cup for him. Sometimes the gift expectations are even negotiated in advance.