A Tale of Letters
A sofer lived in the city of Wlodzimierz in the Ukraine. His father had taught him the art of letters, as had his father before him. And in the same way, he was teaching his own son. He was known to have the most beautiful hand. Sofrim would travel for days just to study with him for a few hours . . .
He was working on a new Torah scroll for the Wlodzimierz city synagogue. This would be his last. He could feel his hand beginning to tremble. Every letter was becoming a great effort, requiring exceptional concentration and patience in order to steady himself before stroking the quill against the klaf.
Exhausted late one evening, he laid down on his bed. He wanted to rest for just a moment to regain the energy to continue. He fell asleep and began to dream. He dreamed that he was a young man finishing this last Torah scroll, with his father and grandfather at his side. Suddenly, the letters began to rise and swirl around the page, dancing before them. They flew up into the air, glistening and flashing with the brilliance of polished gold in sunlight. They moved with the rhythm of all the orchestras of the entire world, playing in consonance. All the knowledge, beauty, and wonderment of the entire universe was illuminated before their eyes and heard through their ears.
When he awoke the next morning, he brought his son to his work room, and they finished this last Torah together. They danced and rejoiced with it upon its dedication in the Wlodzimierz synagogue.
All the knowledge of the entire world is contained in the Torah, nestled amongst the letters and words, awaiting us to dance with them, sing with them, and make them come alive, releasing all the knowledge of all the generations before us, and all those to come.
A sofer lived in the city of Wlodzimierz in the Ukraine. His father had taught him the art of letters, as had his father before him. And in the same way, he was teaching his own son. He was known to have the most beautiful hand. Sofrim would travel for days just to study with him for a few hours . . .
He was working on a new Torah scroll for the Wlodzimierz city synagogue. This would be his last. He could feel his hand beginning to tremble. Every letter was becoming a great effort, requiring exceptional concentration and patience in order to steady himself before stroking the quill against the klaf.
Exhausted late one evening, he laid down on his bed. He wanted to rest for just a moment to regain the energy to continue. He fell asleep and began to dream. He dreamed that he was a young man finishing this last Torah scroll, with his father and grandfather at his side. Suddenly, the letters began to rise and swirl around the page, dancing before them. They flew up into the air, glistening and flashing with the brilliance of polished gold in sunlight. They moved with the rhythm of all the orchestras of the entire world, playing in consonance. All the knowledge, beauty, and wonderment of the entire universe was illuminated before their eyes and heard through their ears.
When he awoke the next morning, he brought his son to his work room, and they finished this last Torah together. They danced and rejoiced with it upon its dedication in the Wlodzimierz synagogue.
All the knowledge of the entire world is contained in the Torah, nestled amongst the letters and words, awaiting us to dance with them, sing with them, and make them come alive, releasing all the knowledge of all the generations before us, and all those to come.
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