Lithographs



If the pen is mightier than the sword perhaps the brush is mightier than the pen? It could be, if you are a sofer (scribe). Someone who actually writes Torahs, Mezzuzah scripture, Ketubahs and all manner of Judaica that requires illustration or calligraphy. Jamie Shear is such a man.
      While mighty and distinguished hands have wielded the signatory power of the pen over the ages (think presidents, heads of state, poets and songsmiths) often overlooked have been those practiced in the art and tradition of the scribe. One of the single most important documents of all time, the Torah, has ever been delicately fashioned by the fingers that brandish the talent of the sofer. When we read from the Torah in synagogue, we often forget that someone actually had to write this. Each letter is brush-stroked to exacting standards set down millennia beforehand by the elders of the Jewish people.
     This is no mere "job". This is a mitzvah. Ironically enough, one laid out in the Torah itself. Each time Jamie inks a new Torah he completes the mitzvah all over again and perpetuates it all at the same time. It's a delicious cycle that makes him happy, proud and wax philosophical of his chosen profession. Jamie muses, “What is Torah? Is it a book of Mitzvot? Yes it is. Is it a book of our heritage? It's that too. The whole process connects one with God."

     Walking into his new studio in Montreal's Cote-Des-Neiges district you are immediately struck by reproductions of his past works on the walls. Beautiful ketubahs created for the brides and grooms of weddings past adorn the still mostly Spartan walls of the room. At thirty-three years old, Jamie Shear is a humble man of grace, intelligence and creativity and his workplace is testament to these facets of his character. He appears as you might imagine a scribe would, delicate, almost tapered fingers, a short-cropped beard and a face capable of intense concentration. He chooses his responses in this interview carefully and thoughtfully before giving succinct answers.
     While classical music wafts softly from an unobtrusive radio on a small table, a giant parchment-stretching apparatus (or hurse) sits nearby quietly lengthening what may become a scroll or background for a new ketubah. It's an instrument that looks like it could have come straight from biblical times, all wooden, bulky and with a raw finish to it; a scribe's tool from a much simpler age. Yet there it is, doing the work it has always done. It's a peaceful setting that reflects the tranquil demeanor of its owner.
     Jamie takes great pleasure from his work but he admits it is not always easy. Base minimum time to write a Torah is at least one year. "Comfortably it takes me a year and a half if I want to do other things. It’s very intense work. The posture, the mental preparation… it’s a book of life; and a book of life requires life. After working on it I’ve given it a lot of life" he says, feigning exasperation and with a giggle. "but you get life back from it once it’s completed.”
     To illustrate just how connected he gets to his work on a Torah, Jamie likens the end process and parting to another of life's more poignant moments. “Finishing a Torah is like a wedding for me. At the dedication of the Torah it’s like marrying off one of my children. It’s very symbolic.”
     Speaking of family, Jamie recently became the proud father of a new baby girl. Along with Amy his wife and sons Moshe and Uriel (five years and three years old respectively) young Navah arrived on the scene in late 2003. Just as we're discussing these facts the phone rings. It's his wife, Amy. Just a quick update on the plans for caring for baby Navah after our interview is done. He comes back with a smile adorning his thoughtful face, as only the truly happy father can wear.
     Up until this point, Jamie has spoken little outside of his obvious passion for his work and the mitzvah of being a sofer; but now he opens up slightly for a glimpse at his personal life when talk turns to his children and the interweaving of Torah and their births in his life.
     “Talking about coincidences… I received my first commission (for a Torah) in 1998. I felt I wasn’t ready for such a holy project and responsibility at the time. So I took a few months to mentally prepare for the task. I was nervous. But I chose a symbolic date to begin the work, the beginning of the month of Shvat. That month’s beginning is also known as a sort of Rosh Hashanah for the trees. The week before, I had had my first child, Moshe. Then I started work on my first Torah.” Another smile flashes over his face in a reflective reverie, as if remembering with sweetness the intertwining of that first birth and the true commencement of his craft and life as both father and sofer. “Uriel was born during the work on my second Torah. And Navah was born the day we had the dedication ceremony for the second Torah; which (in turn) was during my work on the third Torah.”
     It's clear this fusion of life and work has made Jamie a very spiritually wealthy, albeit busy man. When asked how he balances his family life and the life he has to give to his work he jokingly ripostes, "You wake up earlier". He says, laughing. "and teamwork with my wife. She’s very busy pursuing her MA in Jewish Studies. So it’s all about teamwork.”
    
     Born in Montreal, Jamie traveled to Israel to pursue his studies in scripture. It was early on in youth where he found his interest in the words of the Torah. A demonstration by a sofer at summer camp intrigued him enough to seek out a teacher. "I didn’t know that I wanted to do it professionally, but I wanted to learn because of the power of the mitzvah involved. I didn’t know at the time that I had made a connection with this line of work but when I went to Israel the next year I immediately looked for a Scribe to teach me how to write.” In Israel, Jamie met Chaim Dovid Sarachik and began to apprentice under him.
     His original plan was to study biology at Bar Ilan University and eventually pursue a career in nutrition. While completing his BSc. in Biology he continued to doggedly pursue the scribe's way. "It wasn’t until a few years later of working at it when I got encouragement from clients and the community that I made the decision to be a scribe. I saw that I could not devote my time to both pursuits if I wanted to do either of them properly." Thus, during his fourth (and final) year at Bar Ilan, he renewed his dedication to the art and laws of writing scripture and immersed himself full time in what he describes as, "a year of real solid concentrated study and work and practice" culminating in his scribal certification from Vaad Mishmeret STaM in B'nei Brak, Israel.
     Despite all evidence to the contrary, Jamie was not always artistic. His skill had to be coaxed out of him through tireless practice. “I took courses wanting to embellish and decorate my own scripts. Prior to this I was never an artist. It’s strictly a developed skill.” Developed and then rigorously applied with astonishingly beautiful results. Samples of his amazing Ketubahs can be viewed at www.ktavtam.com/ketubot.html.
     There was one small sacrifice for his craft though; so accustomed and inflexible have his hands become through the rigors of practiced scripture, that his "normal" writing has become almost illegible even to him.
     As an example of the patience, dedication and discipline necessary to the sofer's craft, Jamie asks you to consider the following; there are nearly 10,000 lines of script in a Torah. Each letter must be perfect and mistakes are anathema.
     A single error can cause the Torah in its entirety to be unfit for use. Direr is an errant stroke while writing the name of G-d. He elaborates, "That’s the biggest mistake you can make. If you’re gonna make a mistake that’s not the one you want to make." He says, laughing, thoughtful eyes crinkling at the edges. "You can make a mistake on any other word in the Torah because you can always erase it and rewrite or fix it. Not so with the name of G-d. You can’t erase that.” No, He probably wouldn't find that too funny.
     Jamie's last task was laudable. He spearheaded Project M.O.S.E.S. (Masses of Students Expressing Support) to write a new Torah. This one went to Hebrew University in June 2004 in memory of the bombings and people who were killed there in July of 2002. "Each letter of this Torah represents a different person. So it has added an extra dimension to the writing of this one in particular.” His involvement and sheer pride at being immersed in a work for this cause are evident in his tone as he describes the significance of this latest undertaking. "This started off with the Montreal branch of Hillel. They commissioned the Torah but it was a student project. Students from all over the world donated $5 per letter of the Torah. So it was a multi-share Torah. This will raised money for families who have been victimized by terror in Israel."
     Jamie himself brought the Torah to Israel for the dedication ceremony. It will be the purest outgrowth of his work as a sofer and a Jew; infusing his life into this Torah in order to enshrine and remember the lives lost to the horrors of terrorism one letter at a time.
     He also has a personal stake in this, "I lost people I knew in that incident. Another friend barely escaped when they decided to eat somewhere instead of the University cafeteria". He elaborates no further, the subject too difficult to continue. This Torah will express what he cannot.
     Somewhere Hashem will hold this work in esteem for the ages. For Jamie truly is doing the work of heaven.



 

 

 

 
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