Please don’t delete that email from the Rabbi offering to Zoom the Shabbat service straight into your lounge
Save the Whatsapp message from the kosher shops assuring customers that there will be enough matzah for Pesach
Download your synagogue’s poster offering support for vulnerable people in the community
Forward messages from community leaders offering psychological support
These ephemeral digital fragments are documenting Jewish history in real-time. And they are also ephemera – in ordinary times they might be items such as a synagogue timetable, a kosher restaurant menu, wedding invitation or Jewish film festival poster – items people would not necessarily think to keep, but that will later define our communities and our culture for future generations.
In these extraordinary times, they include a whole range of materials reflecting halachic innovations, new forms of ‘socially distanced’ communal life, educational creativity, Jewish irony and unthinkable situations of mourning our lost ones. These items deserve to be collected as they will tell a story of resilience, creativity and also tragedy .
Fortunately, the National Library of Israel (NLI) is creating the COVID-19 Jewish ephemera collection, the perfect central repository ‘ a digital time capsule’ for this information.
Future students of sociology, anthropology, medical history, Jewish communal life, mass marketing, computer science and rabbinic responsa will be tremendously grateful. Consider the NLI as a library without borders – with links to Jewish communities, people and libraries wherever they may be, drawing on the cyber revolution to enhance community engagement, digital preservation, open access, and collaborative projects globally.
We all hope that one day soon COVID-19 will be history – help us record this unique and historic time.
This article is based on a longer one published on the Times of Israel website, here.
When the Spanish Flu Arrived in the Land of Israel
The pandemic known as the Spanish flu spread across the world in the early 20th century, reaching the Land of Israel as well; we took a look back at the news reports of the day
Courtesy of the Otis Historical Archives, National Museum of Health and Medicine, Maryland
“Avoid crowded gatherings in closed places; avoid contact with others as much as possible, don’t even shake one’s hand when saying hello.” This was the ninth directive in a list of guidelines published by the Hebrew newspaper “Do’ar Hayom“ in February 1920, when the pandemic known today as the Spanish flu raged all over the world – and in the Land of Israel as well.
The Spanish flu, otherwise known as the 1918 flu pandemic, spread rapidly across the globe following the end of World War I, with overcrowding and famine likely contributing to the disease’s outbreak. The flu infected approximately half a billion people, almost a third of the world’s population, and killed tens of millions. It was one of the deadliest pandemics in human history.
In the Land of Israel, where the population was relatively sparse at the time and largely rural, the disease didn’t hit as severely as it did in other countries across the globe. Nevertheless, it arrived here too, and the population and authorities had to adjust to a new situation. As we mentioned above, even in 1920 – well after the major outbreaks of the pandemic across the world – residents were still being asked to adhere to strict hygiene rules. Apart from being given basic cleaning guidelines, people were also instructed to isolate patients and even to inform the authorities if they encountered someone who was sick.
“On the Flu
Recently, a disease has been raging in Haifa, which is apparently that same Spanish Flu which wreaked havoc in Europe, claiming so many victims, even more than the Great War. And yet, here it won’t last long. Nevertheless, it has become quite dangerous here as well, especially in the Old City neighborhoods, where the Muslims and Sephardic Jews live, and which is quite gloomy and dark. Furthermore, these residents do not maintain hygiene and sanitary conditions.
General sanitation and specifically maintaining clean bedclothes: on clear and sunny days, take out the bedclothes, sprinkle camphor or naphthalene powder on the beds, wash the floor, and let the breeze dry it.
If you start suffering from a cold, even a mild one, use a handkerchief, which you should keep in a tin box, with chunks of camphor and naphthalene. Be especially careful of phlegm from the nose or throat. In case of a runny nose, gargle antiseptic medicine and use the following ointment: Eau exygenee Menthel Resorcine Borax. It is recommended to stay in a warm bed for a day or two.
In case of a cold accompanied by fever, report this immediately to the government sanitary department and if possible, call the doctor”
There is little information on the impact of the disease on the Land of Israel. Contemporary reports cite a low number of casualties in urban areas compared to Europe. According to a study on the subject conducted by Zalman Greenberg, there were approximately 40 listings of flu patients at Sharai Tzedek Hospital in Jerusalem in 1918 – and this is the only remaining documentation regarding patients infected with the disease in the country. Greenberg also noted that in Tel Aviv’s Trumpeldor Cemetery, there are three tombstones with inscriptions stating that the deceased passed away from the “Spanish disease”. Here is an excerpt from a doctor’s report on the state of health in the country in 1919:
“Dr. M. Borochov-Hoze
On the State of Health in the Country
(A short review)
This first year following our redemption from the agonies of war, has passed, compared to other countries, with relative peace. Although malevolent angels in the shape of contagious diseases and various plagues, which always follow war, and which accompanied the World War as well, have also passed through our country. Evil spirits blowing through the ravaged countries, trampled by armies, have blown through the air of the Land of Israel as well. “A scroll and a sword descended intertwined from heaven” – yet this is but a saying of old. It is a historical fact that in places where you find the sword, you come across epidemics and other exotic diseases. However, just like with the war itself, our brothers in the Land of Israel suffered less of diseases than the rest of the world. Lone cases of cholera, typhus, and recurring fever, and many case of the Spanish disease – a disease that has spread like a storm through all the fighting countries and their neighbors, and wreaked havoc upon them. – This disease claimed victims among our young soldiers, who survived the Turkish oppression. Nevertheless, casualties in our small country were fewer than those abroad.”
Naturally, in the early months following the outbreak of the flu pandemic, in the spring of 1918, when the information was still scant and incomplete, the Hebrew newspapers began publishing their reports. In June 1918, a journalist for the newspaper “Ha’Tzfira” (one of the leading early Hebrew newspapers, published in Warsaw), reported on the spread of the disease in Spain.
“The Foreign Disease
I read that all public and government spaces in the capital have closed. The trams have stopped working. The factories and industries have shut down. The schools have closed and the students, who were anxiously studying for their exams, were sent home. More than one hundred thousand people are lying sick in their beds, and the disease hasn’t overlooked the king and his chief ministers, who have also caught this strange, wondrous illness, which has suddenly assailed Spain.
And I also read that the disease is spreading and expanding all over the country. The number of people afflicted by the disease has reached 10 million people. The military forces stationed in Morocco and the Canary Islands are also suffering. The doctors are helpless; all of the people are extremely fearful.”
The pandemic raged for two years. During that time, Hebrew newspapers wrote brief reports about the pandemic spreading throughout the rest of the world, just as they reported on other daily news from around the globe with the help of news agencies.
“Madrid (today): the Spanish flu has erupted again. One hundred and twenty people died from the disease in the past two days.”
The issue of language in these reports is no less interesting. What was the disease called when it mysteriously appeared? The source of the virus wasn’t actually in Spain. Its common name, “the Spanish flu”, stemmed from the fact that most of the initial reports of the disease came from neutral Spain, a country that didn’t take part in World War I and which didn’t censor its press. However, Hebrew newspapers hurried to align with other media outlets around the world and associated the disease with the Iberian country. Some newspapers wrote of “the Spanish disease”. The Yiddish press often used the phrase “shpanishe magefa” (Spanish plague). These papers were published in the United States and across Europe and reported more frequently on the topic as their target audience resided in countries that were more heavily affected. Eventually, “Spanish flu” became the dominant name for the disease. The Hebrew newspapers still used the terms “grippe” (derived from French) and “influenza“, but gradually they also began using the word “shap’a’at“, meaning “flu”, which Eliezer Ben Yehuda coined as early as 1893.
In late 1920, the Spanish flu disappeared from the world just as suddenly as it had appeared, and with the exception of a few outbreaks in Africa, the H1N1 virus which caused a worldwide pandemic, didn’t return until the swine flu outbreak of 2009. However, here in the Land of Israel, the relatively new British Mandate authorities had to deal shortly after with the return of an equally threatening illness: the plague, which broke out in Jaffa and threatened Tel Aviv in 1922. Fortunately, thanks to the authorities’ determined actions, it was also wiped out of existence. You can read about it on the Israel State Archive’s website.
And one more bonus tidbit:
Although the Spanish flu was left behind, various flu viruses remained with us, and even made their way into commercial advertisements! In 1957, there was an outbreak of another (much less fatal) flu pandemic around the world, known as “the Asian Flu.” “Eliaz” wineries from the Israeli town of Binyamina took advantage of the opportunity and published an ad with a recommendation that wasn’t necessarily approved by doctors:
Asian Flu or Regular Flu?
Either way, getting sick isn’t pleasant.
Golden Crown Cognac, from Binyamina’s “Eliaz Wineries” – is the best natural vaccine against flues and colds.
Drink Golden Crown Cognac, from Binyamina’s “Eliaz Wineries”.
The members of the National Library's Conservation and Restoration Department make sure they are constantly up to date, even when it concerns the most ancient traditions; recently, they attended a workshop dedicated to the secrets of making Japanese washi paper
The Conservation and Restoration team making Washi paper in the traditional method
The National Library’s Department of Conservation and Restoration is in charge of preserving and restoring rare items in the Library’s collections, as well as halting processes of deterioration and erosion, in order to conserve the items for future generations. This delicate work is an art form in itself, with techniques and knowledge that have evolved over centuries. Our Conservation and Restoration department, like many conservation departments around the world, uses Japanese washi paper to restore various items. Marcela Szekely, the department’s director, explains the many uses and advantages of washi paper: “Every item that arrives at the department is carefully examined and the Japanese paper used for repairs is strictly selected according to it thickness, coloring, and fiber length. Washi paper is very versatile and has many uses in restoration: patching together paper tears, filling in missing parts, and even restoring book covers. Other disciplines in the world of restoration have also discovered the wonders of Japanese washi paper and it is also used in the restoration of objects, ceramics, textiles, and more.”
Members of the National Library team recently met with Izhar Neumann from “Izhar Neumann Paper Making Studio,” at his workshop in the village of Yanuh-Jat in northern Israel. Izhar is an artist who specializes in creating washi paper. He lived in Japan for many years, where he worked with master paper-makers and learned traditional techniques that have been passed down from generation to generation for centuries. Izhar brought these methods to Israel, where he opened his workshop and planted paper mulberry trees – otherwise known as Japanese kozo (楮) plants – which are then made into flexible, strong paper with delicate, natural textures.
Japanese washi paper can only be made by using either kozo plants or close substitutes like the mitsumata shrub and the gampi tree. In any case, the first step towards creating your own washi paper begins with the planting of a tiny seed! – These perceptive words are my own; to the best of my knowledge, they were not uttered by a wise old Japanese man, but who knows? – So if you’ve read this far, you already understand that washi paper isn’t made of rice, as are other forms of Japanese paper used in art. It is extremely important to maintain a strict production process, especially if you want excellent results. If the process is completed correctly, it produces a very strong and flexible paper characterized by long fibers which can blend wonderfully with the original paper of the item being restored.
It is very difficult to make paper at home, and it’s important to remember that this is a process involving various substances. Therefore, if you don’t have the knowledge, we suggest you don’t try this at home. Nevertheless, just for the sake of accumulating new knowledge – here is how you prepare washi paper using the traditional method:
The first step, as alluded to earlier, is to grow the paper mulberry trees until they reach the right size. It is important that they reach a precise stage in their growth – on the one hand, not to over-grow them, while on the other hand, giving them enough time to reach the appropriate size.
After showering love and attention on the branches of the kozo tree, we prune the pinkish branches and cut them. This must also be done in a very precise and focused manner. Then, it’s time to start “cooking” the paper.
First, we handle the raw material. After collecting the kozo branches, they are soaked in water and treated with various substances.
The Japanese prepare the paper mainly during the winter, as the cold water helps soften the wood fibers during the production process. This is why the National Library team chose a wintry, overcast day to travel to Izhar’s workshop. Izhar recalled that when he studied the technique in Japan, the students would work in the workshops during the winter for hours in order to make use of the cold water. After that, they would plunge their hands into hot water, in a pot placed on the oven, in order to warm them quickly. The library staff members were seated around a low wooden table and Izhar began working with the group on the various stages of paper preparation. The method remains the same. The only difference is that a group of Israelis sat around the table, instead of a group of Japanese.
After soaking the branches, we separate the bark from the branch, and collect the fibers at its core. Although Izhar does this quickly and mechanically, we must keep in mind that he’s highly experienced and that he’s using a sharp, dangerous tool. So don’t try to peel the bark without going through proper training.
After collecting the core strips of the kozo branches, which look like long white hairs, soak them in water, stir occasionally, and then, take out a cluster of fibers and squash them together. After that, squeeze the mass with your hands to extract the water from it.
Now comes the fun part: pounding the pulp with a meat tenderizer or some other wooden hammer. Just take out all your frustration on that poor pulp, (“Take that! And that! That’ll teach you!”) before it is then placed in a big tub filled with water where it is boiled with the required substances – don’t forget to mix!
Now it’s time to get your hands dirty. At this point, grab a bamboo mat which has been attached to a wooden frame and start making paper! By using a distinctive movement that consists of pushing the frame into water, tilting it at a certain angle, pulling it out, and straining the water – the kozo wood fibers are extracted from the water, and in turn merge into a beautiful strip of paper. The person performing this action also controls the thickness of the final paper.
After achieving the desired thickness, take the frame out of the water, and by using skilled movements and a specific technique (which we thought bore a resemblance to working with a sushi mat), separate the bamboo mat from the frame and place it on the drying paper. After accumulating a pile, the papers are pressed in order to get rid of the excess water. Now all that’s left to do is place the damp paper onto upright wooden boards and wait for it to dry.
At the end of a long day at the workshop, the Conservation and Restoration team returned to the library with a cache of practical knowledge and with their own stock of washi paper, which they can use in their various assignments. This traditional technique of paper preparation is hundreds of years old, and to this day, many workshops like Izhar’s can be found in Japan. Experiencing how to make paper from scratch, and understanding the complicated process and the necessary amount of hours required, contributed greatly to the knowledge and experience of our Conservation and Restoration team, who now have a new-found appreciation for the material which they paste into various restored manuscripts and books. The ctrl+p keys on our keyboards will never again be taken for granted!
Video and photos: Haim Shushan, the Conservation and Restoration Department at the National Library of Israel
Historic Caricatures of Haganah Prisoners in British Custody
On the morning of October 5th, 1939, 43 members of a Haganah officer’s training course found themselves in handcuffs and being led by the British army to Acre prison; This is the album that tells their story
Putting aside the introduction and the assortment of press clippings, one might think that the album of the “Haganah 43” (the Haganah was the largest Jewish paramilitary organization in Mandatory Palestine between 1920 and 1948) was just another soldier’s yearbook filled with stories of their heroic deeds, funny caricatures, and photographs of smiling young men – the kind of military service that might be the envy of many.
“In the early dawn hours of October 5th, 1939, catastrophe struck during a secret military exercise in the Lower Galilee: Without warning, we were surrounded, stripped of our weapons and escorted to Acre prison where the gates shut with a bang behind us. It was a very different, not to mention much longer and much more tormenting ending than originally planned to officer’s training course No. 2…”
The detention coincided with the end of the collaboration between the British military and the Haganah during the Arab uprisings of 1936–1939, after which the British forces once again considered the Haganah one of a number of underground movements in the country that needed to be suppressed. The 43 detainees were taking part in a commander’s course at Yavniel, which was disguised as an innocent “Hapoel” physical training course. Many considered the severity of the sentence as the embodiment of the Mandatory regime’s malicious caprice—42 of the detainees were sentenced to 10 years in prison, and Avshalom Tao, who had pointed his weapon at the British, was sentenced to life.
They were taken first to Acre Prison and from there to Mizra Detention Camp. The detainees, who often referred to themselves as prisoners, testified that the sentencing was carried out “by a swift military tribunal which had the air of a rubber-stamp procedure”. Even worse than the conditions of their detention was the timing of the Mandatory government’s decision to “impose years-long sentences on the 43 young Jewish defense officers,” one month into World War II, “when the Jewish community was summoned to mobilize all its forces against Nazism, which was rising up to enslave the world and destroy our people.”
It was all true; everything was serious and urgent. And yet, it’s hard not to take note of the atmosphere of brotherhood, and dare we say, frivolity and humor that characterizes the album – once you get past the somber introduction. Let’s take a look.
The Haganah album in the Library’s collection was given as a memento to Major General Yohanan Ratner, a leader of the Haganah and an architect in civilian life. It opens with a “memorial” page of sorts showing three detainees (from right to left) – Yaakov Gordon, Mordechai Plutchnik and Shlomo Ben Yehuda – who had fallen during their service in the Haganah, following their release from Acre Prison.
On the next page, we find the course commanders (who were imprisoned with their cadets) – their names are not noted on the page. With the help of Omri Shabtai, we were able to identify the prisoner on the far right who appears above the caption “Supervisor” (the English word transliterated into Hebrew letters – סופרויזר). This was the prisoners’ representative in dealing with the prison’s staff. He would go on the serve as the IDF’s fourth Chief of Staff, as well as Israel’s Minister of Agriculture and Minister of Defense – the “Supervisor” was none other than Moshe Dayan, then just 24 years old.
Above and to the left of Dayan, dribbling a soccer ball, is Moshe Zelitsky (Carmel), who would go on to command the IDF’s Carmeli Brigade during Israel’s War of Independence, capturing Acre and the prison which had held him, among other exploits. To the left of Carmel is Raphael Lev, who commanded the officer’s course which had been interrupted by the arrest of the 43. Lev was a former battalion commander in the Austrian army and had also been active in the Republikanischer Schutzbund paramilitary organization.
On the bottom-left is “The Mukhtar” – Yaakov Salomon – who was the Haganah prisoners’ representative to the Arab prisoners being held at the facility.
The picture below appears to show three of the prisoners “In Full Costume”, as the Hebrew caption suggests, wearing ponchos and mischievous smirks while brandishing buckets and a broom. The exact significance of the episode remains unclear, however.
One page of the album is dedicated to the Jerusalemite prisoners, while others are devoted to those hailing from the cities of Tel Aviv and Haifa. Below is the kibbutznik page, which includes portraits of prisoners answering to such nicknames as: “Ulcer” (top right); “The Ballerina and the Hummus” (bottom-center); “Bunny” (bottom-left); and the “Preacher” of the group (top left).
Without an expert to help guide us through the album, many of the cryptic quotes and phrases remain unsolved puzzles: for example, on the next-to-last page, who are “The Captain and the Snakes”?
At the end of the album is a press clipping reporting the joyous news: “The 43 are Being Released Today,” after almost a year and a half of pressure from Jewish leaders on the Mandatory authorities.
The 43 were freed on February 17th, 1941. According to the article: “From yesterday morning, small cars and busses filled with the prisoners’ families, friends and acquaintances flowed into the central bay near Acre. The kibbutz was designated as the greeting point, where they dined at noon.”
Four months after their release, former detainee Moshe Dayan would find himself with an elite Palmach force in Syria, alongside British forces, in an operation in which he would lose his left eye.
Do you know the context of the drawings in the album? Can you provide us with more information? Feel free to write in the comments below or contact:[email protected]