The Travelling Torah

The family Torah first showed up in the mid-1960s, when according to family lore, my grandfather Emanuel Sokoloff bought it for the new sanctuary at Temple Beth Emet in Anaheim.

I like to think of it as one of the crowning moments of his life. He was devout, davening from the same seat at our Conservative synagogue at Shabbat services every week. Poppy, as we called him, wore a three-piece suit and tie, an impressive tallit and a high-rimmed yarmulke as he sat next to my grandmother, Fanny, who was in her own Shabbat dress, hair covered with lace. They were a bit of the Old World, but in an American shul just down the street from Disneyland. 

The family legend is that our cantor purchased the Torah in New York at Poppy’s request. An appraisal from 2011 shows the Torah originated in Poland and was written in the 1930s or earlier. The appraisal describes its writing quality as “very beautiful” and its weight as “heavy.”  

My own Shabbat childhood memories include running into morning services after religious school, getting covered in kisses by my grandparents, all while breathing in the heavy mothball scent that came with their clothes. It’s a sweet memory.

I had two thoughts about Torahs as a kid. I was in awe of their grandeur. I was also afraid of dropping one. My peers told tales of how you had to fast for many days if you dropped it. 

I had two thoughts about Torahs as a kid. I was in awe of their grandeur. I was also afraid of dropping one. My peers told tales of how you had to fast for many days if you dropped it. No thanks! That fast on Yom Kippur was hard enough.  

I must have successfully carried that Torah on my own bar mitzvah without dropping it. It was also used for the Beth Emet b’nai mitzvah of my brothers and cousins. 

Fast forward a few decades, and I’ve just driven north on the I-Five with the family Torah, bringing it to share with my current congregation, Congregation Kol Emeth in Palo Alto. It’s the latest in several moves our Torah has made over the years. 

The Sokoloff grandkids moved to places like Irvine, Goleta, the San Fernando Valley, the San Francisco Bay Area and to Oregon and Texas. The Torah moved around, making appearances from time to time at a b’nai mitzvah. Most recently it was kept at Temple Aliyah in Woodland Hills. But Temple Aliyah is merging with another synagogue, and the Torah needed a new home. 

It took nearly two months of planning, but the Torah made it north. Have you ever thought of the insurance implications of transporting a precious Torah? My cousins and siblings have, and we have long trail of emails to prove it. 

In late March, I drove to get the Torah at my cousin’s home in Calabasas. I couldn’t find any halacha on transporting a Torah, but I knew it should be dignified. I vacuumed out the trunk and put down a blanket. The Torah was covered with a plastic bag. Its ornaments were bubble-wrapped and transported in two canvas bags. 

As I began the journey north, I stopped for lunch at Brent’s Deli in Northridge, the last deli I’d see for several hundred miles. I had lunch with a cousin I’d found several years ago on 23andme. It was our first meeting in person, and I established my Jewish bona fides quickly. “I have a Torah in the trunk,” I told him. 

I knew enough not to bring any corned beef from the deli into my car. The Torah is certified as Kosher; I was going to keep it that way. 

The Torah made it safely home with me, and several days later I brought it to Kol Emeth. 

The synagogue’s executive director and I unwrapped the Torah on the bimah and placed the blue mantel and silver ornaments on it. I smiled as I attached the breastplate that read, “In honor of Mr. and Mrs. E. Sokoloff.” It looked impressive and magnificent as I carried it to the ark. 

L’dor v’dor. This Torah holds many memories. We’re looking forward to sharing it with Kol Emeth and grateful that it has a new home. 

A whole new generation of young Sokoloff descendants live in the Bay Area now, including five great-great grandchildren of Emanuel and Fanny Sokoloff. Someday we hope they read from the family Torah at their own b’nai mitzvah.

Larry Sokoloff is a professor emeritus at San Jose State University and a freelance writer.