Tefillin Test  

Davening on a plane, I rediscovered last week, isn’t for the fainthearted.

I’m not talking about the quickly mumbled Maariv under dimmed cabin lights — the one uttered while sitting down and trying to disguise the muttering by strategically massaging one’s chin.

I’m also not referring to the airborne shtibel on an El Al plane.

I’m talking about the Tefillin Test.

The moment when you have to stand alone in front of a Boeing-load of very awake, very non-Jewish passengers as you wrap yourself in wool and leather.