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Last week was mostly concerned with the aforementioned Sad Torah. I thought my only job was rewriting the first eleven columns of Bereshit, and I worked pretty hard on that; got it done by Thursday morning. You can see from the pictures that the impressions of the letters remained, which of course made writing them very much easier, as I didn't have to keep referencing a copy every few letters, but could check the copy every few words instead. As a result, I found myself working up to six times faster than usual. That is, normally it would take me six hours to write a column; I did a couple of these in an hour each, including matching the script to the original. But that was extremely hard work.
( What happened after that )
This sefer reminds me of my first pet rabbit. He was a house-rabbit - although he wasn't very well toilet-trained - and very lovely and friendly. He liked company, and he would follow you around and jump onto your lap, and he was very silky and nice to stroke. After a good many happy years he developed an intestinal problem, and the vet said that he was very sick, and could be operated on but would have to have most of his back end, including his cute bunny tail, lopped off, and still wouldn't be very much better. So he was put to sleep, and of course I was terribly upset, but it was probably the kindest thing to do in the circumstances - and I was partially consoled by the acquisition of a replacement, who had dear little black trousers and an irresistible white splotch on his nose.
I digress. The point is that this Torah is in very much the same situation as was my rabbit. The congregation like to have it around, and they like to pet its ears and have it jump on their laps, as it were, but it is very, very sick - this latest restoration job has made it look more or less okay, but it will never be kosher, and it will almost certainly deteriorate again in less than a year. This sefer should have been honourably retired, not restored, but the congregation weren't having any of that.
I think I shall incorporate this tale into the booklet I have on proper care and feeding of Torahs, so that perhaps one day another sefer may be saved from this fate.
( What happened after that )
This sefer reminds me of my first pet rabbit. He was a house-rabbit - although he wasn't very well toilet-trained - and very lovely and friendly. He liked company, and he would follow you around and jump onto your lap, and he was very silky and nice to stroke. After a good many happy years he developed an intestinal problem, and the vet said that he was very sick, and could be operated on but would have to have most of his back end, including his cute bunny tail, lopped off, and still wouldn't be very much better. So he was put to sleep, and of course I was terribly upset, but it was probably the kindest thing to do in the circumstances - and I was partially consoled by the acquisition of a replacement, who had dear little black trousers and an irresistible white splotch on his nose.
I digress. The point is that this Torah is in very much the same situation as was my rabbit. The congregation like to have it around, and they like to pet its ears and have it jump on their laps, as it were, but it is very, very sick - this latest restoration job has made it look more or less okay, but it will never be kosher, and it will almost certainly deteriorate again in less than a year. This sefer should have been honourably retired, not restored, but the congregation weren't having any of that.
I think I shall incorporate this tale into the booklet I have on proper care and feeding of Torahs, so that perhaps one day another sefer may be saved from this fate.
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