Besides writing Torah scrolls, soferim must also be experts in the writing, manufacture, and maintenance of tefillin.  When not working on the CTC Sefer Torah, this is what I am up to…

What is the point of all the scribal laws? Why must the Torah be copied by hand? Why must the sofer endure such a long and arduous process?

The answer to these questions requires us to understand the purpose of the sofer.

Soferim are more than just copyists; they are entrusted with the duty of safeguarding and accurately transmitting the Torah text from generation to generation.  This intense duty of transmission is what the laws of safrus really address, not the mere aspects of transcription.

If the ultimate goal of the copyist is to simply produce a copy of the text, then we could merely use a xerox machine to accomplish our goal.   Alternatively, if you are feeling “old-fashioned,” you could build a robot to scribble out the Torah with quill,  ink, and parchment.

But this is not what the halacha wants of us. The halacha wants the scribe to set his hands, eyes, mind, and heart  upon every single stroke of every single letter of every single word of the Torah.

As the scribe writes, each word must be said aloud.  Additionally, every holy name, before it is written, must be sanctified with the statement: “Behold! I write this for the sake of the Holiness of the Name of G-d.”

Upon completion of a new scroll, every letter must be checked to make sure that its form is correct. Every word must be checked for correct spelling. The layout must be checked to ensure that the text is clearly divided into the requisite number of paragraphs. This process is repeated numerous times before the Torah can be consecrated for ritual use.

Any unrepaired or uncorrected defect  and halacha may requires the scroll to be buried.  The very existence of a defective scroll threatens our mesorah, our chain of transmission, and must be put far beyond the reach of human hand or eye.

To produce a kosher scroll, the sofer must anguish, both in body and soul, over every stroke of the quill…

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About six or seven times-per-year, I get contracted to do major repair or restoration work on antique Torah scrolls.   Restoring antique scrolls is tricky and really, really time consuming.    Because of the time commitment, I decided to avoid doing restorations while writing the CTC Torah Scroll, with the exception of some historic Torahs owned by the Dallas Holocaust Museum.

However,  just before starting the CTC Torah, I received a call from an elderly couple living in Athens, Texas who, surprisingly, had a Sefer Torah to be restored.   While I may still be new to Texas, I don’t think “Athens, TX” and immediately thereafter think: “Oh, Athens? Well, Jews, naturally….”

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(Kulmus cutting continued…)

We last left off in the last post just having marked guidelines for cutting the nib:

And now we go on to finishing cutting the kulmus (quill)…
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[This is a big post, so I will split it into two...]

Finally we get to the kulmus, the quill – the real “beating heart” of safrus.

Becoming a sofer has more to do with cutting and maintaining the quill than it does with writing.  Similarly,  becoming a shochet has more to do with the technique of preparing and maintaining one’s blades than it does with the act of shechita.

Mastery of  cutting/maintaining a quill is ultimately what separates the professional scribe from the dilettante.

The sofer’s relationship to the kulmus is complex, to say the least.   If you treat your kulmus well, and pay close attention to what it needs,  then it will reward you.   Treat your kulmus poorly, and it will betray you.  Badly.  Very badly.

Soferim spend so much time caring and maintaining their quills, that the whole subject of kulmus becomes something of a personal one.  I know this sounds terribly romantic, but it is true:  that I am about to describe my cutting technique feels a little like baring my heart, like sharing some deep personal secret (I guess, in a way, that’s the purpose of this whole project…)

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