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October 10, 2003
A hurdle-filled journey to sofrut
Female scribe has to face formidable resistance along her path
to learn about the rules for writing a Torah.
AVIEL BARCLAY SPECIAL TO THE JEWISH BULLETIN
This past August, Bulletin readers learned about local
scribe Aviel Barclay, perhaps the first woman in the world to be
commissioned to write a sefer Torah. We now present the first of
a two-part series on the background to this momentous event.
My first memory of seeing a sefer Torah and Hebrew writing was as
a child of three years old. I can only try to express now as an
adult the feelings and thoughts I had then. I was amazed. I was
fascinated by the scroll and was so drawn to it that I just wanted
to be near a sefer Torah all the time. The lettering, too, overwhelmed
me. I saw these letters, these shapes that I could not read, that
made no sense to me, yet I was so excited about. They just seemed
so sacred and their forms looked like fire to me – this thought
I had long before I ever learned as an adult that the writing in
the sefer Torah has been likened in our tradition to black fire
on white fire.
By the time I was 10 years old, I wanted to learn how to shape the
letters of the Hebrew alef-bet. As I had nobody to teach me, I went
to the New Book of Knowledge Encyclopaedia in the bookshelves
of my mother's home office, took the "H" volume down and
sat cross-legged on the rug. I spent hours pouring over the pages
dedicated to Hebrew, teaching myself how to draw the letters and
some basic words. Even then I felt that this learning was in fact
a way of approaching something that was so much greater than myself.
After a couple of years, I abandoned interacting with the Hebrew
language and alef-bet until into my early 20s. It was then that
I became conscious of what I had been pulled towards on a soul-level
my whole life: I desired the great privilege of writing a sefer
Torah. I didn't know whether a woman had ever achieved such a goal,
nor even whether mainstream Judaism permitted it, so I spoke to
my rabbi.
He answered me quite thoughtfully when we had this conversation,
this gentle, knowledgeable Conservative rabbi with strong feminist
leanings. His response was to encourage me to pursue other ways
to express my Judaism in a more artistic context; to produce decorative
pieces, such as blessings for the home, ketubot (Jewish wedding
contracts) or even bar and bat mitzvah certificates for the synagogue.
He praised my artistic talent quite enthusiastically, but thought
I would be doing more good to perform chiddur mitzvah –
beautifying a mitzvah – by decorating ritual objects. Each
time I approached my rabbi with questions about the halachah (Jewish
law) of women writing ST"M (an acronym standing for sifrei
Torah and the prayers used in tefillin and mezuzot), he redirected
my attention to the good work I could do elsewhere in Jewish ritual
artwork rather than address my direct questions.
The next step I took was to begin calling sofrim ST"M to ask
them. I understood that many rabbis don't have a working knowledge
of sofrut outside of spotting when a sefer Torah is passul
(not kosher and consequently unfit for use), so I hoped that I would
have my questions answered by an expert in the field. I had a number
of disappointing experiences. I sent e-mails all over the world
after doing a copious amount of research on the Internet, then still
in its infancy. All but one of my e-mails went unanswered. This
was from a rabbi in Yerushalayim who was also a sofer ST"M.
He was willing to teach me all the laws of writing ketubot and Megilat
(Book of) Esther, but was only willing to teach me about writing
sifrei Torah for the purposes of chinuch – in theory.
This was a beginning.
This sofer was concerned about the very strong tradition of women
not being allowed to write based on conversations in the Talmud,
but not on actual halachic rulings. He expressed his fear that,
should I ever go to the expense of writing one, nobody would buy
a sefer Torah written by a woman. He was quite enthusiastic about
teaching me how to write "what was appropriate for a woman."
I understood.
I then began phoning sofrim all over the world. I called Vancouver,
Seattle, Toronto, Los Angeles, New York, Montreal, London –
everywhere I could sniff out a sofer ST"M. The reactions to
my request were varied. After I explained that I was an observant
Jewish woman who had been in love with the sefer Torah, the holiest
object in our very object-less tradition, I had sofrim ask me if
I was married (saying that I would better serve the Tribe by having
children instead), pretend suddenly to not understand English or
just flat-out refuse. Why? Because, I was told, this is not a job
for women.
I was at a loss. My community was quite supportive – the more
learned, like Dr. Louis Sutker and Lorri Feldman, provided me with
pages of halachah either photocopied from Jewish books of law or
downloaded from the Internet, all in an effort to help me learn.
I did at one point hear of a Reform sofer in Manhattan who was willing
to teach women in theory, but I did not pursue this lead. Frankly,
I was concerned that I would miss something. All I wanted was to
learn the rule and ritual required to produce a kosher sefer Torah
with love, respect and conscious intention. I didn't want to change
any of the rules; I wanted to follow all the same rules as the men
did.
In the meantime I began making Judaica, including various blessings,
prayers and ketubot. I showcased my work on my own personal Web
site and began a small Jewish art business.
After 18 months of reaching out for a teacher, I gave up. Not permanently,
but I sensed that I had used all my resources to find a guide and
that my efforts led me to a dead end. Either this was not meant
to be, or it was not meant to be right now. I was also unwilling
to simply keep teaching myself and plough ahead without mentoring.
I knew to truly become a soferet ST"M was to earn a semichah
(authority), not unlike an ordination of a rabbi or designation
of a doctoral degree.
Just as I had let go of any hope that a sofer ST"M would open
a door for me, God opened a window! I was checking my e-mail one
day when I received a message from an address I did not recognize.
Thinking it was probably spam, I deleted it. After attending to
other business-related e-mails, I was about to empty my delete file
when my curiosity got the better of me. I went back to this odd
e-mail and opened it. It was from a man in Yerushalayim. His e-mail
read, "Shalom – I had a look at your Web site and I really
like your sense of design, but I think your calligraphy could use
a little work. Do you need a teacher?" Before answering him
I checked out his Web site. I was very impressed with his artwork,
but more than that, I read that he was a sofer ST"M! When I
responded to his e-mail, I asked him if he would be willing to teach
me, a Jewish woman, how to write a sefer Torah. After a little negotiation,
he agreed!
We started by his sending me a Hebrew calligraphy course by post
so that I could improve my letter forms and better ground myself
in the alef-bet. With each lesson my skill expanded and my excitement
grew. Eventually, I was ready to learn from him in person.
I arranged to spend a year in Israel to study in a yeshivah
(seminary) and learn from my sofer. In the beginning, I lived on
a kibbutz and broadened my knowledge of Hebrew in the ulpan. In
my spare time, I did all the homework my sofer was still mailing
me, completing assignments week by week. When they asked what I
was up to, I told them my story and of my goal of becoming a soferet
ST"M. They listened and found it interesting, but also clearly
thought I was weird for wanting so badly to learn such complex skills
and laws when I would have such enormous opposition.
Once at yeshivah in Har Nof, my notoriety spread. I had mixed reactions
from my fellow students and it wasn't long before the faculty caught
wind of my extracurricular pastime. The rabbi in charge of admissions
called me into his office. He questioned me about how I spent my
time when not in class. Since I had resolved early on not to lie
about the path I was pursuing, I was completely honest with this
rabbi. He demanded to know the name of my sofer, which I refused
to give him, as I didn't want any trouble made for him and his family.
The rabbi told me to "deal with your feminist issues because
you don't want to make waves." He said that if I didn't stop
my sofrut lessons, that I would have to leave the yeshivah.
About a week later, one of the rebbetzins approached me during lunch.
She sat across from me and asked, "Are you the one who thinks
she can be a sofer?" I replied that I was learning sofrut from
a sofer ST"M. She insisted that it was against halachah for
a woman to write anything, that it was not within the scope of our
roles as Jewish women. I asked her where it was written that women
were forbidden, adding that I was of course concerned with living
a life guided by halachah and that I was interested in learning
about the arguments against what I was doing. She didn't answer
me. Instead, the rebbetzin asked who my sofer was and commented
that he couldn't be Orthodox if he was teaching me. Again I refused
to reveal my sofer's identity and told her that he was, in fact,
Orthodox. She then demanded what his halachic grounds were for teaching
me, so I confessed I did not know. She told me a feminist like me
would never find a husband, especially when I was willing to be
so immodest as to learn from a man in private. In defence of our
learning arrangement, I let her know that my sofer's wife knows
that he is teaching me and approves. That when she is out of town
we do not meet and that when she is in town he leaves the door open
to the apartment (a standard practice among very observant adult
Jews of the opposite sex to allow anyone who may pass by to see
into the room) and that his studio has glass walls. We were certainly
never "in private." I respectfully asked her to leave
me alone.
About a week later, this same rebbetzin approached me again and
asked, "If a rav [a deeply respected rabbi of great
Torah knowledge who makes authoritative halachic decisions for other
Jews] told you whether or not you could write ST"M, would you
follow his ruling?"
Being committed to living within the bounds of halachah meant that
if I asked a sheayla (halachic question whose answer is binding)
of a rav, that I would have no choice but to follow his instruction
for the rest of my life, whether his answer was to permit me or
forbid me from sofrut. This question carried immense potential with
it.
"Yes," I replied, "but which rav?" That piece
of information was vital to me.
"Oh, we'll find one for you and let you know." It was
obvious they were trying to stop me by sending me to a rav who wouldn't
approve. I didn't trust them. I gathered several friends together
to brainstorm which rabbeyim in Yerushalayim were at all sympathetic
to women's issues and progressive enough to have a serious discussion
with me. We all knew what was at risk.
In the end, this rebbetzin and the submissions rabbi offered me
one rav to meet with, whom I knew would tell me "no" without
even hearing me out. I refused to set up an appointment with him
and instead offered a few names of more feminist rabbeyim. They
turned me down.
The following week, a campaign began among the rebbetzins to set
me up on shidduchim (blind dates). They reminded me that
I wasn't getting any younger. "Don't you want to get married?
To have children?" They prodded, "What good is a hen for,
anyway? A hen is only good for boiling."
About this same time, the admissions rabbi marched me into his office
again and asked if I'd given up on my "crazy ideas." I
said no. He then challenged my Jewishness. He said that I obviously
couldn't really be Jewish if I was going to do something so destructive
to the Jewish people as to learn sofrut. He demanded that I prove
to him that I was halachically Jewish, otherwise I would have to
leave the yeshivah. He outlined the different types of paperwork
that I would have to submit for him to check, like my parent's marriage
contract, a naming certificate, bat mitzvah certificate or any conversion
paperwork, whichever was applicable. I was eventually able to furnish
him with copies of the relevant paperwork so he could make calls
regarding the rabbis who signed all the different papers.
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