Saul Brodsky credits his Jewish faith to his mother, Wendy Einhorn Brodsky. “My mom is genuine about her Jewish identity and practice,” he says when describing the trajectory of his Jewish journey beginning in Norfolk attending Temple Israel to studying at a yeshiva and becoming an observant Jew.
At 33 years old, Brodsky now works as a Sofer, or scribe, in Israel, handwriting Jewish text and prayers that are found in tefillin, mezuzahs, Torahs, and other religious objects.
The road to becoming a Sofer was not a direct route for Brodsky. During his junior year at University of Virginia, Brodsky travelled with a group to Israel for 17 days with orthodox Rabbi Benzion Klatzko and Olami, an organization aimed at revitalizing Jewish engagement among young adults. During this trip, Brodsky says, he was “exposed to themes and concepts of Judaism” that had seemed lofty to him but then became practical and real. The experience made him want to study in Israel. Still, he returned to school, graduated, and accepted a position with Credit Suisse in New York City. He felt strongly, however, the call to return to Israel and study at a yeshiva. So, he made the move for two years studying at Machon Yaakov. Upon returning to the United States, he studied for LSAT and applied to law schools. Even with multiple acceptances, Brodsky opted to return to Israel, met and married his wife, Adina, a clinical social worker, and ultimately completed six years of yeshiva education. Today, he continues his study with Kollel at The Wall.
For Brodsky, becoming a scribe offered flexibility to study Torah, work from home, and create his own schedule. Studying under a private tutor, Brodsky first learned the complicated laws of the profession and the technical skills of crafting the Hebrew letters. He completed three Megillat Esther, the Scroll of Esther for the holiday of Purim, and closed on his first sale this past January. In addition, he’s working on his first Torah, which he estimates will take approximately 10 months.
Brodsky explains that the ingredients used by a scribe occur in nature, and, therefore, are halachically valid by Jewish law. He completes a mezuzah on a piece of hide from an unborn calf, measuring about 5” square. The ink has been cooked to reach a certain consistency, and Brodsky works at a slanted desk with a humidifier system that provides vapor to keep the hide malleable. “There are a lot of nuances that a scribe needs to be aware of,” he says, including the potential for an inked letter to crack under the strain of being rolling into a mezuzah or Torah.
Every Hebrew letter has its own qualifications, and a document will be invalidated if a letter is drawn incorrectly. Corrections can be made in certain circumstances, often by a third-party magia’h, who is certified to “proofread” the document and who understands the complex laws in more detail.
“If you’re selling something that you will say a blessing on, it needs to be correct,” Brodsky says.
Separate laws apply to writing mezuzahs and tefillin, as well as to writing God’s name, says Brodsky. All 713 letters of the mezuzah, for example, must be written in order. In certain cases, if a correction needs to be made to one letter, the subsequent letters become invalid since the order has been upset. Because Megillat Esther for Purim does not include God’s name and does not need to be written “in order,” it is often the first text that a new scribe attempts.
Brodsky describes two camps of scribes, those who charge $100 per mezuzah scroll and others who can charge $250. The more expensive scroll looks nicer and is considered ‘a beautification of the mitzvah.’ However, there is a market for both religious objects. Often, he says, a buyer will rely on another’s expertise to know the true value of a scribe’s work.
Brodsky says he is pleased with his success so far and notes that perseverance is key. He observes many beginners who quit the profession after a mistake or two.
Adina Brodsky adds, “I’m proud of him.”
