There is an inconsistency regarding the manner in which the mitzvah of tzitzis is introduced. The term “dibur,” speak, is lashon kasheh,strong form of the verb, while “amirah,” saying, is lashon racah, the soft form. Why would the mitzvah of tzitzis be presented through two opposite expressions? Kol Yehudah explains that there are two aspects to the mitzvah of tzitzis. First, there is one who wears a four cornered garment. He must put tzitzis on the four corners of his garment. Regarding him, the Torah speaks – “You must put on tzitzis.” There is another situation which is what we might refer to as the gray area: One who does not have a four-cornered garment is not obligated to have tzitzis. In reality, he does not have to purchase a tallis katan. There is, however, the aspect of chavivus ha’mitzvah, the care and love one should have for Hashem’s mitzvos. One should be excited to wear tzitzis, to go out and purchase a pair of tzitzis, so that he can perform this easy and wonderful mitzvah. If he does not, he is mevatel, eliminates, the opportunity for performing a positive mitzvah. The Torah tells him “in a soft tone” to wear tzitzis.
Moments before he passed away from this world, the Vilna Gaon, zl, held his tzitzis in his hands and cried, “How difficult it is to leave this world, where one can earn immeasurable reward in Olam Habah, just for spending a few pennies to purchase and wear tzitzis.” he said. If we would only understand this statement. What greater insult is there to the Almighty than when fine, upstanding Jews just do not bother to wear tzitzis because there is no halachah that demands it.
A very meaningful story is told about the Kelmer Maggid who once happened to spend a weekend in a resort near Riga, Latvia. Members of the community told him that many of the men who were on vacation did not wear tzitzis because they did not “bother” to bring them along. On Shabbos, when he had occasion to deliver the sermon in the main shul, he felt he would address this serious offense. He ascended the podium and related the following story to the worshippers: “I was once in Riga during the summer. I went to someone’s home to speak to him. When I came to the door, the maid told me that he had gone to the resort for some rest and relaxation. As I was about to leave, I heard heartrending weeping from a room in the house. I asked the maid for permission to check out the source of this weeping. I looked into the room and found it empty; no one was there. There was, however, a tallis katan in the corner of the room that was weeping uncontrollably. “Tallis, tallis, why are you crying?” I asked. “Why I should not cry? My owner went for vacation and took everything with him except me!” “Do not worry tallis; for one day your owner will leave for an extended trip, to another world, and he will leave everything: his valuables, his clothing, his family, everything – except for you. He will take only you with him.”
Obviously, everyone understood that the maggid was referring to the day when we leave this world wrapped in our tallis. Would it not be a shame if for this last and most important trip our tallis would have an estranged relationship with us?
