The Scribe part 3

We are required to write the Torah and other Holy Writings in "dyo" (ink). The ink must be black, the most changeless color, much like G-d and His Torah are changeless. In ancient times, scribes would prepare their own ink out of soot (usually from burnt olive oil), mixed with a tree sap called gum arabic. He would make these into wafers. When he wished to write, he would dissolve the wafer in a gall nut solution. According to all authorities, this ink is preferable, and according to some, only this is valid. Nevertheless, the accepted ruling is that any ink that is black and durable is acceptable. Many Yemenite scribes still make ink similar to this, only using burnt pomegranate peels instead of soot. Since this carbon-based ink would sometimes smudge, and leave an unpleasant gray hue on the parchment, about 400 years ago scribes went over to a copper or iron based ink, which, when mixed with tannic acid, makes a deep black color. Since this ink did not smudge, it became the standard in most places. Many, including yours truly, consider this very unfortunate. Carbon based ink stays black forever. A ferrous sulfate or copper sulfate ink, mixed with tannic acid, begins to break down after a few decades. After about forty years it begins to become brown, then red, then it completely fades and disappears. A Torah Scroll, written 500 years ago in the old ink, will be in much better condition than one written 150 years ago in the "new" ink. What's more, the pH of the ink is acid, the lime used in the parchment is basic. The ink and parchment interact, eventually causing the ink to peel off. There are people pushing for a restoration of the old ink. I hope they will prevail.
Next comes the pen. The Talmud writes "why do we use a reed to write the Torah? To teach is to be bending like the reed, and not rigid like the cedar". Sepharadic and Yemenite scribes usually use a reed to write, most commonly bamboo. In northern Europe, suitable reeds were scarce, and scribes went over to a quill pen. The quill makes much sharper lines. This has influenced the stylistic difference between Ashkenazic and Sepharadic writing. Ashkenazi writing is full of sharp angles. Sepharadic writing is soft and flowing. (As i noted in a previous installment, there are also significant differences in the shapes of the letters, but here I am discussing style rather than substance). That is why it takes much longer to write Ashkenazi than Sepharadi script. A "top of the line" Sepharadic Mezzuzah, for example, will take 50 minutes to write. An equivalent Ashkenazic Mezzuzah will take two and a half hours.The tip of the pen is also cut differently, so as to make the sharp Ashkenazi script even sharper, the Sephardic even more gentle and flowing. According to most authorities, both are equally kosher. Because of the style of writing in Ashkenazi script, the pen wears down faster, and must be recut in the middle of a mezzuzah, while a Sepharadic scribe can write ten mezzuzot before needing to recut his pen. Recutting must be done very carefully, lest the size of the letters be altered.Today, as I have mentioned,  some scribes have gone over to hard plastic pens, that are precut for different sizes of writing, and are very durable.
In my next post, will discuss the various scripts that are used.

The Scribe part 2

In the Song of the Sea, Moses says "This is my G-d and I will beautify Him..." The rabbis ask "How can we beautify G-d? Beautify Him with Mitzvot! Anything you make for the Divine Service should be beautiful." This is understood in two ways. One is to "beautify the act of a mitzvah" by making it conform to all the rules and regulations set forth in the Written and Oral Torah. The second is to make every material thing used in a Mitzvah  aesthetically beautiful, thus honoring G-d and "Beautifying" Him.
One may purchase a cheap "knockoff" of a great work of art. It may look like the original, but it isn't the original. It lacks the love and devotion not only of the artist's hand, but also his mind, heart and soul. So with the scribe. Not only must his finished product be beautiful, but he must be spiritually attuned to what he is about to create. Beyond that, even the materials he uses in his craft must conform to halachah, and be beautiful to the eye. Even if we do not see this in the finished scroll, lacking this beauty, the scroll is like the "knockoff" painting. It is missing the real beauty and soul of Divine Service.
At one time the Scribe would personally make all the materials; the parchment, the ink, the sinews used for sewing the scroll together, and the actual pen, either a reed or a quill. Today, most still cut their own pens, but the making of the parchment ink, and sinews is usually done by experts in this field, often by people who have the methodology in their families for generation.Many have gone over to plastic pens.
The first step is the parchment, known in Hebrew as klaf or gevil. Although these words are used interchangeably, they actually refer to two different thicknesses of skin. The klaf must be from a kosher species of animal, but not necessarily kosher slaughtered. Klaf makers purchase the skins from meat processing plants. For writing purposes, calf skin, especially fetal calf, is best. For making the boxes (battim) and straps of the Tefillin , steer skin is generally used. But the skin, as it comes off the animal, is essentially useless. It is like a piece of meat. It must be "tanned"; a process that shrinks the skin and strengthens it. For ordinary leather, chemicals are used. In ancient times, leather was usually made by processing the skins in animal dung. (This is why a leather tanner is often depicted in the Talmud as someone you wouldn't want to stand too near to.) But for sacred purposes, this was seen as not befitting the holiness of the object. The skins were soaked in a solution of gall nuts. Gall nuts are actually a type of blister formed on a tree as a reaction to insects boring into it. The gall nuts contain a lot of tannic acid (so called because it was used in tanning!). The klaf maker will first make a statement before putting the skin into the tanning solution: "I am tanning this skin for the sake of the sanctity of the Torah scroll, and I stipulate that if one chooses, it can be used for tefillin, mezzuzot, or Megillot (scroll of Esther)".The skin would sit in this solution for about a month. In medieval Europe, lime was usually used instead. Most do use this today, but some keep the older tradition of gall nuts. One can tell which was used, as white klaf will indicate lime, brown klaf will indicate tannic acid.Some, especially certain Yemenite groups, consider the lime method invalid.
After the tanning process, the skin is scraped to remove any remnants of hair or blood vessels.A special process is used to give the writing surface just the right texture. If it is too smooth, the ink will not "take". If it is too rough, the letters will come out broken and uneven.It must have a "silky" feeling. The scribe is trained to correct any tiny imperfections he may encounter while writing. About three hundred years ago, a method of coating parchment with glue and white lead was developed, making a surface far easier to write on. Many consider this invalid. In any case, this coating begins to deteriorate after a few decades. Reputable scribes do not use coated parchment. Such parchment can easily be recognized in that it has a shiny surface.
The symbolism is clear. What had been a beast, becomes fine parchment, and finally contains the Word of G-d, becoming a holy object. So are we called upon to transform our animal nature to human, and from human to a vessel for the Divine. We are meant to become Torah!
In my next installment I will discuss the ink and the pen.

The Scribe Part 1

A young man named Rabbi Meir, who would later become one of the defining figures in the Talmud, went to visit the senior Sage, Rabbi Yishmael. The elder rabbi asked him "My son, what is your profession?" "I am a scribe" his young colleague responded. ""My son, be careful in your work! It is the work of heaven! If you add or delete a single letter, you are destroying the entire world!"
For us, the Torah is not just a book. It is G-d's blueprint for Heaven and Earth, it is our instruction manual for life, it is our raison d'etre. There are thousands of laws that go into the writing of Torah Scrolls, Tefillin and Mezzuzot. Few rabbis are versed in these laws. It is a highly specialized area. Beyond that, the scribe is expected to be of the highest moral and ethical fiber. After all, he will be the pipeline for the blueprint of the Universe to become manifest here on earth. Nearly every letter is composed of other letters, representing combinations and permutations of Divine energies. For example, the letter Tzadi is composed of a Yud and a Nun. In Ashkenazic tradition, the heads of the Yud and Nun face each other. In Sepharadic and Hasidic tradition, they face away from each other. The Yud represents the Divine Masculine, the Nun the Divine Feminine. Facing towards each other indicates Unity and Happiness. Facing away means strife and separation; exile. We need to do holy actions so as to bring the faces lovingly together, while remembering that we are not yet there. Numerous books have been written on the shapes of the letters; from children's books, to advanced Kabbalistic texts.
An interesting point of halachah is that the scribe must write not by heart, but from an existing text. There are two reasons for this. One is so he will not make a mistake. But another, deeper reason is that "he is lighting one candle from another, going back to the first Torah that Moses wrote". He is aware that he is a conduit for something far greater than himself. It is a link in a chain that never was, and never will be, broken.
Before he begins to write, he says: "Behold, I am writing for the sake of the Holiness of a Torah Scroll". Every time he comes to a Divine Name (Ten different Names are found in the Torah) he must first say "behold, I am writing for the sake of the Holiness of the Name". Every time he takes a break from writing, he will again recite the sanctification when he begins anew. It takes months to write a Torah (in Ashkenazi script about nine, in Sepharadic script about four). But what he is writing is actually eternal.
In subsequent installments I will describe the materials the Sofer uses, the various scripts that abound, and the deep sense of awe and love that the Sofer (scribe) feels. A few years  ago, a student of mine was ready to write his first Torah. He brought it to my home, honoring me with writing the first letter. As always, it was a thrill.