"That's my aleph."
My husband and I, along with three of our sons are fulfilling the Torah's 613th commandment – to write a sefer Torah.
The commandment is derived from Deuteronomy 31:19: "Therefore, write down this poem and teach it to the people of Israel."
We were present on the sixth day of the month of Sivan 3,317 years ago, along with every Jew who would ever be born, when, amid thunder, lightning and the sound of the shofar, God gave Moses the Ten Commandments, as well as, many believe, the entire written and oral Torah. That day marks the holiday of Shavuot, the giving of the Torah, which begins this year at sundown on Sunday, June 12.
And we are present on this night, along with several other families, in the beit midrash at my sons' day school, where, amid solemnity, joy and awe, we are carrying out the Torah's final commandment.
Well, maybe we aren't each writing a complete sefer Torah, a project that generally takes 2,000 hours, but we are each writing a letter.
"A letter qualifies," says Neil Yerman, an observant Reform Jew who has gained certification as a sofer, or scribe, and, since 1987, has written five complete scrolls and participated in the restoration of more than 700 others. He is one of few scribes to allow women and children to inscribe letters in the Torah.
The entire school community – all seventh- through 12th-graders, as well as interested faculty, parents and alumni – will have a turn at writing in the first three columns of Bereshit, Genesis, on a new piece of parchment. That entails about 3,600 letters. A full Torah contains 304,805 letters.
Yerman then will restore the remainder of the Torah, which was rescued from Poland after the Holocaust.
The oldest known Torah, found in Alexandria, dates back almost 1,400 years. Our scroll, Yerman estimates, was written 120 to 130 years ago. Some of its sections are even older. And while it's impossible to pinpoint its shtetl of origin, it reflects styles found in Russia, Poland, Lithuania and Germany. "This Torah has seen a lot more than any of us," says Yerman.
Yerman recites a traditional prayer, thanking God for teaching our hands to write the letters. Then, on a small piece of parchment, he carefully calligraphs the name Amalek, the archetypal enemy of the Jews, and, as commanded by Deuteronomy 25:19, blots it out.
Calling us up one at a time, Yerman instructs us to place our hand around the quill atop his. He looks at the original scroll, also taped to the desk, to check what letter comes next, because a scribe cannot write even one letter from memory, and he sings out that letter's name. He holds the quill in a firm grip, and together, we meticulously and seemingly magically create each letter.
"It's amazing to think that Jews for later generations will read something that I wrote," my son Jeremy says afterward.
As parents, we made a promise at Sinai that our children would be the guarantors of Torah. They are surely the guarantors of this Torah – a Torah that they rescued and wrote. A Torah that they have become part of and that has become part of them.
Our sons and their classmates will use this Torah for prayer services and Judaic-studies classes. It will be interpreted, debated, revered and argued over. It will challenge, teach and engage; it will continue to be, as 14-year-old Danny says, "the thing that's kept us Jews here for thousands of years."
After they graduate, our sons, along with all students, will pass this Torah down to the next generation. And the next. And we hope that some day, they will bring their own children to the beit midrash to show them the Torah.
"See this Torah here? I saved it for you," we can hear Gabe say as he takes it down and scrolls back to Genesis 1:7. "And see that aleph in the word 'asher'? That's my aleph." u
Jane Ulman is a writer living in Encino, Calif.