Prayer’s Light in Wartime’s Darkness

Since the horrific events of October 7 and the subsequent war, a large chorus of voices have turned to the heavens, hoping to deal with their pain and confusion by praying to a higher power. This has been a typical Jewish response to war since biblical times, and continues into the modern age. Let’s explore some of these powerful wartime prayers, and find out where they truly come from.

Mia Amran | 27.12.23

Chief Rabbi of the IDF Shlomo Goren in Sinai reciting prayers for the IDF soldiers, 1970, Eitan Haber, the Dan Hadani Collection, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection, the National Library of Israel

Israel is at war. How does that sentence make you feel? What is your response?

Some people feel anger at this, an anger that spurs them forward as they spend time volunteering, sharing content online about the conflict, and donating money to various Israeli causes.

Military rabbi (Feldrabbiner) Dr. Balaban with a group of Jewish soldiers in Lublin, 1914-17, Central Archives for the History of the Jewish People, the National Library of Israel

Conversely, some people feel helpless or mournful, not knowing quite what to do with the difficult emotions that this war raises for them.

And at the same time, many people, when trying to deal with this turmoil, simply turn to a higher power – asking “why”, begging “please”, saying “help”.

Soldiers being blessed by a rabbi before going off to war, 1914-18, Germany, the National Library of Israel

During this time, there is of course not just one valid response, but the response that is perhaps often left unacknowledged, and sometimes seemingly adverse to outside commentary, comes from that last group of people – those who are, right now, grappling with, or turning to, their faith.

The Jewish Agency for Israel and the Sephardi Chief Rabbi Shlomo Amar urge Jews to say a specially composed prayer on Passover 2007 for Israeli soldiers held captive since the Lebanon War, The Australian Jewish News (Sydney), April 6, 2007, the Historical Jewish Press Collection at the National Library of Israel

This war, unfortunately, does not mark the first time in history that so many Jews have been massacred, and with each tragic slaughter of the Jewish people, a large chorus of voices turns to the heavens. Often the words which leave the mouths of these Jews during times of distress such as these are pre-prescribed: they come from a prayer book, are read in order and adhere to rituals which were determined long before our lifetime.

Poster advertising an emergency day of fasting and prayer to end the Holocaust, called by the Chief Rabbinate of Palestine and the Union of Orthodox Rabbis of American and Canada, 1945, the National Library of Israel

But these are not the only prayers that count. Spontaneous words from the heart have almost always had a place in Judaism, a fact that is somewhat surprising given the ostensible rigidity of the religion, and the structures upon which it relies.

But nonetheless, we can see that this is undeniably the case. Once upon a time, as told in the Book of Samuel, a biblical woman named Hannah stood at the entrance to the Tabernacle at Shiloh, rocking silently back and forth and muttering to herself, as tears welled in her eyes. The Jews around her assumed that she was a drunkard and looked unkindly upon her. However, what was really occurring was a silent but supremely powerful turning-point within the Jewish religion. Hannah was saying a silent prayer – without a prayer book, without a quorum of men, without prescribed words. Just a woman praying silently from the heart.

Group of soldiers and rabbi at Passover service 5678 (28 March 1918) in Italy, Central Archives for the History of the Jewish People, the National Library of Israel

Since then, the idea of making up and reciting personal prayers has gained legitimacy, but while Hannah’s prayers focused on her childlessness, the concept of personal prayer really took off and became common within Judaism in the context of war.

King David is famous in Jewish tradition for having been an astute warrior and conqueror. Many of the Psalms that appear in the Bible are traditionally attributed to King David, and there is even a belief that he composed some of these hymns for his troops to use in prayer during war. For example, Psalms 20: 8-10 reads:

“These trust in chariots and these in horses, but we-we mention the name of the Lord our G-d. They kneel and fall, but we rise and gain strength. O Lord, save [us]; may the King answer us on the day we call.”

The Chief Rabbi of the British Empire composed a prayer for the protection of Jewish soldiers to be read in synagogues every Sabbath during the Boer War in South Africa, 1899, the National Library of Israel

Another famous and even earlier biblical example of prayer entering Jewish liturgy during times of war is the story of how the biblical forefather Jacob prepared for his reunification with his estranged brother Esau. Jacob is warned that his brother is approaching, accompanied by 400 men. Fearing for his life, he decides to compose a prayer for salvation. Jacob’s prayer (Genesis 32: 10-13) echoes the words of the prayer we know today as Ha-Gomel, which is recited whenever a soldier returns from war, to this very day.

This practice of authoring prayers in response to war exists in the modern age as well, such as prayers composed for Jewish soldiers during World War I.

Chief Rabbi of the IDF Shlomo Goren in Sinai reciting prayers for the IDF soldiers, 1970, Eitan Haber, the Dan Hadani Collection, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection, the National Library of Israel

We have many famous examples from the Holocaust of prayers being written to suit the spiritual needs of the suffering congregations and individuals during that time of great trauma. Jewish author and poet Alexander Kimel, for example, created a set of prayers for the victims of the Holocaust after surviving the ordeal himself. These prayers are now usually read as part of the Yahrzeit service on the High Holy Days, but many of the Jews reading his words do not know just quite how recently these prayers were actually composed.

Group of Jewish soldiers and their rabbi in Purgstall, 1917, Central Archives for the History of the Jewish People, the National Library of Israel

Similarly, most synagogues around the world recite the Mi Sheberach prayer for the safety of Jewish soldiers each week on the Sabbath. To the casual listener, this classic prose might sound hundreds of years old, but that couldn’t be further from the truth! While the original Mi Sheberach blessing for the recovery of sick Jews dates back to the 12^th century, it was only adapted for use when praying for Jewish soldiers by the former Chief Rabbi of the IDF, Rabbi Shlomo Goren, in 1956, while Israeli troops were fighting in the Sinai Campaign.

Military rabbi blesses and gives sermon to Jewish soldiers in Austria, 1914-18, Heeresgeschichtliches Museum, Central Archives for the History of the Jewish People, the National Library of Israel

In 2006, during the Second Lebanon War, the eminent Rav Ariel Bar Tzadok wrote a prayer for the welfare of the state of Israel, using sources from Sefer Shoreshei HaShemot. Again, these prayers were adopted by the nation, and synagogues were soon full of people fervently repeating Ariel Bar Tzadok’s words in the hope that they would bring success in battle.

Then, in 2014, during Operation Protective Edge, Rabbi Dr. Nathan Lopes Cardozo was compelled to write the “Prayer on Behalf of the Jewish Soldiers Going into Battle” whose profound meaning touched many Jewish hearts around the world and became a constant daily chant for lots of Jews in various global congregations.

Newspaper article explaining new High Holy Day prayers written for Israeli soldiers fighting in the War of Independence, the Sydney Jewish News, 25 November 1949, the Historical Jewish Press Collection at the National Library of Israel

And even now, Rabbi Yitzchak Yosef, the Sephardi Chief Rabbi of Israel, and a man steeped in tradition, has requested that all Jewish congregations say his newly-written “Prayer for the Success of Am Yisrael” every day until the end of this current dreadful war. This novel prayer has become the new-normal in many synagogues around Israel, who pledge to read it aloud each day until the end of the war in Gaza.

President Chaim Herzog, Prime Minister Yitzhak Shamir, the Ashkenazi and Sephardi Chief Rabbis and others at a service in Jerusalem to offer prayers for the well-being of Jewish troops fighting in the Gulf, 1991, David Mizrachi, the Dan Hadani Collection, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection, the National Library of Israel

So, while some people think of Jewish prayer as something stagnant or pre-prescribed, it is clear to see that this is very much not the case, especially during times of war. In fact, much of the war-time liturgy that so many Jews rely on for comfort, was composed in the recent past by modern Jews who felt just as much longing for safety, success and peace as we do today.

*The Abridged Prayer Book for Jews in the Army and Navy of the United States*, 1917. In addition to the expected material, it includes specially composed prayers for war, a “Prayer for the Government,” national anthems, “America”, “The Star-Spangled Banner” and “Hail, Columbia,” plus a calendar for 1917-1920, Jewish Welfare Board by Jewish Publication Society of America, the National Library of Israel

For those who utilize prayer to connect to the current war in Israel, it may come as some comfort to know that the words that many believe to hold so much power do not need to have been written over 2000 years ago. They can be as heartfelt as the inner feelings of parents missing their children, rabbis guiding their communities, and individuals standing on the precipice of uncertainty, unsure of how to look at the world around them, who instead look up to the sky and open their mouths to see what words fall out.

And who knows which of the prayers from today’s wars will end up etched on the pages of prayer books used by our great grandchildren for generations to come.

Embracing the Light of Hanukkah

Jewish pride is exemplified annually in the tradition of lighting the hanukkiah candles, but the Hanukkah story itself is actually full of themes of concealment and hiddenness. So why is Hanukkah celebrated with this self-confident display of our Judaism and why is this practice so very important, especially in dark times like these, when Hanukkah will be celebrated amidst a backdrop of Jewish suffering and war.

Mia Amran | 07.12.23

Jewish Holidays

The Shohat Family celebrating Hanukkah, 1977, Dan Hadani, the Dan Hadani Collection, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection, the National Library of Israel

Donuts, dreidels, golden coins and gifts. Memories of Hanukkah are set on a backdrop of cozy winter nights, permeated by the smells of oily foods, laughter from silly games and lots of time spent with family. As presents are exchanged and songs are sung, Hanukkah holds a special warmth and innocence in many of our minds. But, when asked to sum up Hanukkah in just one image, almost all of us would recall the hanukkiah lights, set in front of foggy windows, as the bright candles burn for all to see.

Young girls lighting the hanukkiah after immigrating to Israel, 1948, Rudi Weissenstein, the Photohouse Collection, the National Library of Israel

A source of pride in Jewish culture is the concept of showing off our light in the midst of nightfall’s darkness. But while the theme of Hanukkah is usually perceived to be this pride and openness, when it comes to the Hanukkah story itself, it is hard to deny that concealment and hiddenness are also very apparent themes. There is a fascinating tension here between these two contrasting ideas. In this article we will explore how we have come to equate Hanukkah with a Jewish sense of pride and why is it such an important message to share, especially during times like these, in which it seems that many Jews will be celebrating Hanukkah amidst a backdrop of distress and war.

The Shohat Family celebrating Hanukkah, 1977, Dan Hadani, the Dan Hadani Collection, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection, the National Library of Israel

The story of Hanukkah begins around 168 BCE, when the Seleucid ruler Antiochus IV Epiphanes began persecuting the Jews in his kingdom, which included the territory of Judea, and forced them to either renounce their Judaism or face certain death. Due to his horrific threats, this point in history marked the start of an era of hiddenness which descended upon the Jewish people. Many Jews living during this time made the difficult decision to outwardly adopt Greek religious practices and culture in public to avoid punishment, but continued to practice their Judaism in private – praying, studying, and practicing the Jewish laws as best they could.

Lighting the hanukkiah at Rambam Hospital, 1981, IPPA Staff Photographer, the Dan Hadani Collection, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection, the National Library of Israel

This history is symbolized by a story that is often told about the origins of the dreidel – a spinning top traditionally played with on Hanukkah. During Antiochus’ reign, Jewish children were of course banned from learning any Torah. Not wanting the legacy of Jewish learning to die out, the tale recounts that their parents would hide the children away and teach them Torah in secret. As a backup measure, they set out dreidels in the hiding spots, too. If a Greek official were to walk past and happen to spy them, the children would immediately begin to play with their innocent spinning tops! Though the story is not based on historical fact, and originates in a much later tradition, today, Jewish children continue to play dreidel each Hanukkah to commemorate this dark period in history, when living openly as a Jew was not a possibility.

Lighting the hanukkiah, Central Archives for the History of the Jewish People, the National Library of Israel

At the same time, an even bigger concealment was taking place. The story of Hanukkah concludes with a great war between the Greek army and the Jewish army, led by members of the Hasmonean family, who later came to be known as the Maccabees. When we think of the Maccabees, we picture brave strong fighters, and this is not incorrect. However, before the final days of battle commenced in earnest, the Maccabees were in fact best described as a hidden group of insurgent guerilla fighters.

Lighting the hanukkiah for wounded IDF soldiers at Tel Hashomer Hospital, 1969, IPPA Staff Photographer, the Dan Hadani Collection, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection, the National Library of Israel

Setting up their bases in the caves and hideouts of the Judean countryside under the leadership of Judah Maccabee in 166 BCE, the story is told of how these Jewish soldiers formed clandestine groups of fighters and dissidents who would set out on underground missions while their forces grew in size and skill. For much of the war, the Maccabees would wait just beyond eyesight, hiding in the wilderness and using the element of surprise to attack effectively. It was only with the conclusion of the Hanukkah story, as the great large-scale battles of the Greek-Jewish war broke out, that the Maccabees rose up to fight in the open.

Young boy lights a hanukkiah at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, 1949, Benno Rothenberg, the Meitar Collection, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection, the National Library of Israel

Hanukkah is also a festival of hidden miracles. The famous story of that one last jug of oil which lit the ritual menorah in the ruins of the Jewish temple was found after being hidden amongst the rubble, not presented in plain sight. Similarly, a hidden miracle occurred after it seemed that the Maccabees might not survive the war. Only one Maccabee named Simon survived past the Hanukkah story. Yet it was Simon who would go on to officially found the great Hasmonaean dynasty, the first instance of full Jewish sovereignty since the fall of the Kingdom of Judah more than 400 years earlier. This was something that few could have dreamed of at the time, which allowed the Jewish people to once again rise up in strength.

Blessings for lighting the hanukkiah, Amsterdam, 1750, the National Library of Israel

Hence, one might think that moving forward from the story of Hanukkah, this annual holiday would be celebrated with references to hiddenness, the way that we commemorate the hidden miracles of Purim or Shemini Atzeret. But this is not the moral of the Hanukkah story. The story of Hanukkah ends with a menorah, lit bright for all to see, standing unscathed amongst the wreckage of Jerusalem. This image conveys a clear message that despite being repeatedly knocked down, the Jewish people are not afraid of their identity. In fact, it reminds us that we will never again allow ourselves to be hidden away with shame. We are here. We are bright. We continue to burn. That is the message of Hanukkah.

Young boy lights a hanukkiah at the Western Wall, 1969, IPPA Staff Photographer, the Dan Hadani Collection, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection, the National Library of Israel

And over the years, this is what we have seen from the Jewish people time and time again.

Hanukkah in Fuerstenfeldbruck DP Camp, Germany, 1945, Yad Vashem Archive 1486/582

One of the most famous images associated with the Holocaust is of course the image of a hanukkiah, one of the most enduring symbols of Judaism, standing proud in the window of a house while across the street we see a Nazi flag draped on a building. This image is so famous because it shows exactly how far the Jewish people will go in order to protect their identity, and stand firm in the face of oppression.

Rachel and Rabbi Akiva Posner’s hanukkiah in Kiel, Germany, (still lit each year by their grandchildren), photo by Rachel Posner, Hanukkah 1931, Yad Vashem

But this is not the only hanukkiah that remains from the Holocaust. A hanukkiah was found, wrapped in newspapers dating back to 1941, hidden under the flooring of the synagogue building in Alphen aan den Rijn, Holland, which was used each year during Hanukkah until the deportation of the family to whom it belonged. Similarly, the French Moroccan Cohen family, fleeing persecution with not much more than a suitcase, chose to take their hanukkiah with them when they were forcibly evicted from Casablanca, so that they could continue to light the Hanukkah candles wherever they might end up. Another tale from within the ghetto walls of Lodz, Poland, recounts that the chairman of the Judenrat, Mordechai Chaim Rumkowski, was known for proudly lighting the hanukkiah each year despite the dangers of doing so, right up until the liquidation of the ghetto. Many Jewish families keep such Holocaust-era hanukkiot as heirlooms and stories continue to abound of Jews refusing to hide their light, despite their tormentors attempting to stamp it out.

A Hanukkah candle lighting ceremony in the Westerbork transit camp, Netherlands, 1943, photo: Yad Vashem

The origin of the word “Hanukkah” is debated, but it is clear that it contains the Hebrew root חנכ which means “to dedicate”. As the Jews dedicated themselves to their identity through the story of Hanukkah, so too do we see that continued dedication right up until today. Israel is beautiful at Hanukkah time. Traditionally, many Israeli Jews light their hanukkiah in a box outside of their house, not on their windowsill, and walking the streets of Israel seeing families gathering to light their candles is a truly special experience. It is also continuous. Despite the many wars that have ravaged Israel since its conception, each year, whether during war or peace, these special candelabras can be seen glowing bright.

IDF unit lights hanukkiah made out of exploded rockets, 1970, IPPA Staff Photographer, the Dan Hadani Collection, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection, the National Library of Israel

During times of global conflict, Jews typically come under even more frequent attack when proudly expressing their identity. When Ukrainian Jews, recently caught in conflict, lacked light to see, fuel to cook, and lived under constant curfew, hanukkiot were still seen shining proudly from homes and town squares throughout the country. When the public lighting of the hanukkiah in London was cancelled just a few days ago, British Jews banded together and pledged to hold their own candle lighting ceremony, unafraid of expressing who they are. And the examples can go on and on and on.

Ruling from the Chief Rabbinate of the IDF allowing soldiers to light candles with any available oil including gun oil, say the blessings over flashlights, and light candles in a private place, *Ma’ariv*, December 26, 1978, the National Library of Israel Historical Jewish Press Collection

In times of war, this sense of collective identity is even more important than ever, and perhaps that is why, despite the challenges that face Israel during moments of conflict such as these, each year the hanukkiot continue to shine bright from Jewish homes across the country.

IDF soldiers lighting the hanukkiah in the Negev Desert, 1949, Benno Rothenberg, the Meitar Collection, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection, the National Library of Israel

Many wonder what will happen this year. While some of our brave soldiers will be allowed home to celebrate the holiday with their families and friends, many others will have to commemorate Hanukkah in the Gaza Strip, or on army bases around the country. But fear not, the light cannot be dimmed, no matter how burdened or tormented our people become. Many individuals have already began collecting donations to deliver candles and Hanukkah treats to our IDF soldiers, and there are organizations who have pledged to deliver Hanukkiot to each and every army base, so that no Jew will be left out, and all the soldiers will get to light their candles and help put an end to our darkness.

Chabad delivering donuts to IDF soldiers, 1985, Yossi Aloni, the Dan Hadani Collection, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection, the National Library of Israel

As Jewish history continues through the good times and the bad, this year once again we will witness the heart-wrenching sight of hanukkiot shining bright from the battlefields of Israel. While this image is not an easy one to process, it’s a reminder that our nation and our pride can never be wiped out. The haftarah reading which is recited on the Shabbat of Hanukkah comes from Zechariah 4:6 and proclaims that the Jews will succeed “not by might, not by power, but by spirit”. No matter where we are spending Hanukkah this year, remember that ultimately it is our spirit which will keep us strong, and our Hanukkah lights will remind us never to dim our shine for anyone.

The Art of a Child’s Hope

Amidst the horrors of war, it is common for children to find some solace through artistic endeavors. But in an astounding discovery, we’ve also now seen that there is a clear connection between the art made by children during the Holocaust and the art created by the children witnessing the current war in Israel and Gaza. Why is this the case, and what can it teach us about the experiences of children witnessing the slaughter of their people, 80 years apart?

Mia Amran | 14.11.23

Europe Israel's Wars Jewish Art Jewish Communities The Holocaust Zionism

Since the horrific events of October 7, and the subsequent weeks of terror, loss, and mourning, many are asking themselves how on earth the people of Israel will ever be able to find the strength to rebuild. With so much sadness, so much pain and grief, it sometimes seems impossible that there could be any hope left.

2023 – Jewish Middle School of Nashville, 3rd grade, USA, Words Can Make a Difference, National Library of Israel 1929 – Jiri Metzl, Jewish Museum of Prague, from *We Are Children Just the Same*, Marie Rut Krizkova, Kurt Jiri Kotouc, and Zdenek Ornest, 1995, the Jewish Publication Society, the National Library of Israel

As Israel keeps fighting, however, there exists a chorus of small but persistent voices pervading the darkness: voices that belong to little children, asking in their innocent tones for us to please keep going. For them.

2023 – Renascenca school, 5th grade, Brazil, Words Can Make a Difference, National Library of Israel (includes a wish for peace in Portuguese) 1942 – *Sketch of a Child’s Hand*, Frantisek Brozan, aged 10, from *I Never Saw Another Butterfly*, Hana Volavkova, United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, Schocken Books, National Library of Israel

There are few people born in Israel who did not have a childhood punctuated by one of the country’s many wars or intifadas, so the now-grownup adults know that despite all the many challenges facing us right now, we need to stay strong for our children. Many of them will grow up with memories of this war, and it is our job to make sure that those memories are of a strong nation, one who can rise through the ashes, not only to succeed on the battlefield but also, ever so slowly, to rebuild as a people and find a way to rekindle the hope.

2023 – Eden Fitoussi, Henri Schilli, 2nd grade, France, Words Can Make a Difference, National Library of Israel 1944 – Josef Novak, aged 13, from *Children’s Drawings From the Concentration Camp of Terezin*, 1978, State Jewish Museum in Prague, the National Library of Israel

Amidst the horrors of war, it is common for children to find some solace and a means of expressing their feelings through artistic endeavors. For little brains with big thoughts, their emotions can’t always be expressed adequately in words, but their creativity can serve as a form of therapy, providing a safe haven whereby they can process complex emotions, understand the strange and ever-changing world around them, and, as a byproduct, leave behind a poignant testimony to their resilience which even adults can draw strength from.

2023 – Yael Benarrouch, Yabne Schili, 1st grade, France, Words Can Make a Difference, National Library of Israel 1942 – *Dancing Children*, Helena Schanzerova, aged 9, from *I Never Saw Another Butterfly*, Hana Volavkova, United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, Schocken Books, National Library of Israel

We know that children have a remarkable capacity to adapt to their surroundings, even in the most horrific of circumstances. In times of war and fear, one way of doing this is by using art as a tool to cope with their emotions, escape from the harsh realities around them, and channel their inner thoughts into something more tangible. The emotional catharsis of expressing their fear, anger, and sadness in a non-verbal manner often aids in gaining a sense of control over their feelings.

2023 – Alma Primary School N20, 3rd-6th grade, UK, Words Can Make a Difference, National Library of Israel 1928 – *To The Station*, Petr Ginz, the Jewish Museum of Prague, from *We Are Children Just the Same*, Marie Rut Krizkova, Kurt Jiri Kotouc, and Zdenek Ornest, 1995, the Jewish Publication Society, the National Library of Israel

One of the most poignant examples of children using art to cope with the destruction that lay around them was the art created by Jewish children during the Holocaust. Despite the unimaginable horrors that they endured, many of these children found solace through artistic expression. To this day, we are still finding pictures drawn by children from within the walls of the concentration camps and ghettos, and continue to document these images as vital Holocaust records. The children’s art continues to serve as a testament to the young human spirit’s ability to endure and transcend suffering, or at least make sense of their anguish, in ways that adults are often unable to do.

2023 – Zac Green, Yavneh College, 8th grade, UK, Words Can Make a Difference, National Library of Israel 1940s – *Smiling Man In Camp Uniform*, located in bunker cell 12, block 11 of Auschwitz, from *Last Traces – the Lost Art of Auschwitz*, 1989, Joseph P. Czarnecki, Atheneum, National Library of Israel

In Auschwitz and Warsaw, Treblinka and Vilna, in fact all across Eastern Europe, Jewish children in the 1930s and 40s turned to art as a means of survival. Drawing and painting memoirs of happier times, or their dreams for the future, offered them a glimmer of hope and a way to maintain their humanity in the face of the most dehumanizing conditions.

2023 – Gabs, Yavneh College, 9th grade, UK, Words Can Make a Difference, National Library of Israel 1943 – *Nazi Threatening a Jew*, Jiri Beutler, aged 11, from *I Never Saw Another Butterfly*, Hana Volavkova, United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, Schocken Books, National Library of Israel

Through their art, some of these children also depicted the atrocities that they witnessed. They drew scenes of deportations, crowded barracks, and Nazi brutality – innocent young people simply copying the scenes that they saw all around them and thus making sense of what was happening, and in doing so, leaving behind witness to the injustices that they faced.

2023 – Aaron Meimoun, Yabne Schili, 1st grade, France Words Can Make a Difference, National Library of Israel 1931 – Liliana Franklova, the Jewish Museum of Prague, from *We Are Children Just the Same*, Marie Rut Krizkova, Kurt Jiri Kotouc, and Zdenek Ornest, 1995, the Jewish Publication Society, the National Library of Israel

But interestingly, so much of the art created by Jewish children during the Holocaust also provides glimpses into their innocence, as they portrayed scenes of camaraderie, smiles from the people around them, their favorite animals and flowers, and simple moments of daily life. As much as the darker artistic material shows us how traumatizing this experience was for the children, it is often their scenes of naivety which strike us harder. What hurts so much is seeing the way that these children remembered and documented the world as it used to be for them and probably how they hoped it still could be, combined with the hindsight that these children had no idea of what lay in wait for them.

2023 – Naor Berros, Yabne Schili, 1st grade, France, Words Can Make a Difference, National Library of Israel 1944 – Margit Koretzova, aged 11, from *Children’s Drawings From the Concentration Camp of Terezin*, 1978, State Jewish Museum in Prague, the National Library of Israel

Today, children have more access to information and knowledge of current affairs than ever before. As more young people have their own digital devices and social media accounts, it’s hard to shield our youth from what is happening around them. A never-ending stream of information, video footage and propaganda is being released from nearly every media source straight into our devices, and as a result, the youngsters of Israel and Jewish children around the world are more aware of the atrocities occurring than ever before.

2023 – Ambar Jones, Comunidad Judia de Nordelta, 8th grade, Argentina, Words Can Make a Difference, National Library of Israel 1944 – *Queue for Food*, Liana Franklova, aged 13, from *I Never Saw Another Butterfly*, Hana Volavkova, United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, Schocken Books, National Library of Israel

But creative activities offer children a temporary escape from the traumatic events that they may be experiencing or witnessing. Art allows them to focus on something encouraging and constructive, if only for a brief moment. And more importantly, art empowers these children to take control of their own narratives. In this time of chaos, it allows them to create a world that they are in charge of, making decisions about what exists on their page and in exactly what form, and thus shaping their own imaginative realities. A sense of control when otherwise they would have none.

2023 – leah, Alma Primary School N20, 3rd-6th grade, UK, Words Can Make a Difference, National Library of Israel 1931 – Vera Lowyova, the Jewish Museum of Prague, from *We Are Children Just the Same*, Marie Rut Krizkova, Kurt Jiri Kotouc, and Zdenek Ornest, 1995, the Jewish Publication Society, the National Library of Israel

With this in mind, shortly after the war broke out last month, the National Library of Israel launched a special initiative for students worldwide. We reached out to educators with the message that “We are inviting your students to share letters and drawings to Israeli soldiers and families that our team will print and send out.”

2023 – Yael Rendelstein, Alonim School, Modi’in, Israel, Words Can Make a Difference, National Library of Israel 1943 – *Figures of Little Girls*, Jana Hellerova, aged 5, from *I Never Saw Another Butterfly*, Hana Volavkova, United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, Schocken Books, National Library of Israel

It is a meaningful way to show support and raise people’s spirits in these difficult times. These, like the many letters and pictures made by children in previous wars, will also be preserved in the NLI collections.

2023 – Benyamin Ouahba, Yabne Schili, 2nd grade France, Words Can Make a Difference, National Library of Israel 1942 – *Leaves of a Tree*, Milan Biennenfeld, aged 12, from *I Never Saw Another Butterfly*, Hana Volavkova, United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, Schocken Books, National Library of Israel

The results of this new project have been astounding to see, as we continue to receive hundreds of images which provide glimpses into the minds of the young Jewish children who are just trying to cope with the realities of this war, the way we all are.

2023 – Natalia Intiwasi, Spanish Immersion School, Kindergarten, USA, Words Can Make a Difference, National Library of Israel 1931 – Kitty Brunnerova, the Jewish Museum of Prague, from *We Are Children Just the Same*, Marie Rut Krizkova, Kurt Jiri Kotouc, and Zdenek Ornest, 1995, the Jewish Publication Society, the National Library of Israel

They’ve also shown us that as the world progresses at break-neck speed, the minds of children will forever be young. In looking at these images we can see clear connections between the art made by children during the Holocaust and the art created by the children witnessing the current war in Israel and Gaza.

2023 – Alona, Colegio Columbo Hebreo Primary School, Columbia, Words Can Make a Difference, National Library of Israel 1943 – *Ghetto Guard,* Alfred Weisskopf, aged 11, from *I Never Saw Another Butterfly*, Hana Volavkova, United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, Schocken Books, National Library of Israel

This is perhaps to be somewhat expected: children often employ universally understood symbolism in their art to represent certain figures, ideologies, and the impact of war on their lives. Through these symbols and drawings, they are able to explore and interpret the radical events occurring around them. Thus, it may be only natural for the images of the children who have borne witness to the slaughtering of their people to be similar, despite being created decades apart.

Most of the children whose pictures are included in this article did not survive the Holocaust, but their art did. It now serves as a poignant historical record, offering exceptional insights into the minds of children during that time, and leaving behind invaluable artistic testimonies of the Holocaust for future generations.

2023 – Mika Friedman, Farmland Elementary School, 1st grade, USA, Words Can Make a Difference, National Library of Israel 1943 – *Passover Seder*, Doris Weiser, aged 11, from *I Never Saw Another Butterfly*, Hana Volavkova, United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, Schocken Books, National Library of Israel

As the National Library of Israel continues to collect the art of the Jewish children experiencing the current war in Israel, we simultaneously create a new set of records, soon to be historic, which will always serve as a reminder of what young Jewish children lived through in the year 2023.

2023 – Evelina Matvienco, Kishinev ORT Hertzl Technology Lyceum, Moldova, Words Can Make a Difference, National Library of Israel 1944 – Karel Sattler, aged 12, from *Children’s Drawings From the Concentration Camp of Terezin*, 1978, State Jewish Museum in Prague, the National Library of Israel

We hope and pray that Israel will return to peace soon, but we know that for a long time even after this war ends, the question will remain of how to rebuild a country which has lost so much. As our children turn to us for answers on how to keep going, we may also find ourselves turning to them. As we look towards their small but hopeful faces and see the power of their yearning for peace, maybe these images will enable us to put one foot in front of another, one foot in front of another, until it becomes natural to do so once again.

2023 – Gustave Leven, Ecole Alliance, 1st grade, France Words Can Make a Difference, National Library of Israel 1941 – *Guard With a Stick*, Sona Spitzova, aged 10, from *I Never Saw Another Butterfly*, Hana Volavkova, United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, Schocken Books, National Library of Israel

If you know a child who would like to share a piece of art or a letter with the NLI and our brave IDF soldiers, please follow the link: https://educationnli.involve.me/words-make-difference

The Mysterious Case of Joseph G. Weiss’s Hasidic Library

Prof. Joseph G. Weiss was one of the 20th century's leading scholars of Hasidism. Following Weiss's tragic death in 1969, his mentor Gershom Scholem selected 250 books from his former student's personal collection to be brought to the National Library in Jerusalem. Yet something happened along the way. To this day it's not clear what became of many of these books...

Dr. Zvi Leshem | 05.11.23

Gershom Scholem Judaism Rare Books Rare Jewish Books

Joseph G. Weiss, photo from the Joseph George Weiss Archive at the National Library of Israel

Prof. Joseph G. Weiss (1918-1969), was one of the foremost students of Prof. Gershom Scholem. He would go on to direct the Institute of Jewish Studies at University College London and edit its “Journal of Jewish Studies”. Weiss left behind a scholarly oeuvre which, although sometimes debated and criticized, is without a doubt the forerunner of modern Hasidic studies. He was ahead of his time, and that perhaps explains the current reawakening of fascination with his work.

Weiss’s untimely and tragic death and the publication of his correspondence with Gershom Scholem a decade ago have also contributed to the great interest both in Weiss the scholar, and in Weiss the man.

I would like to offer some brief observations regarding the Hasidic books that were held in Weiss’s personal library, and their mysterious fate. After Weiss’s death in 1969, his widow Erna decided to sell his Judaica collection through the agencies of Weiss’s friend and colleague at University College London, Prof. Chimen Abramsky, who also worked as a book dealer. Prof. Jacob Taubes of the Judaica Institute of the Berlin Free University, Scholem’s student (and later nemesis), and an early friend of Weiss, purchased the collection for his institute. However, when the books arrived in Berlin, he noticed that many of the most important volumes were missing. It seems that Weiss, in his will, had given permission to his mentor Scholem to have first choice of the books that he wanted for the collection of the Jewish National and University Library in Jerusalem, and needless to say, Scholem had selected the best. Taubes in response angrily cancelled the agreement and returned the remainder of the collection to London, where they were subsequently auctioned.

Extensive correspondence exists in the archives of the National Library of Israel regarding the transfer of “250 books” (“mostly on Hasidism”) from Weiss’s library, that arrived in Jerusalem in February 1970. Some of the correspondence is in the Joseph Weiss archives, and some in non-catalogued folders of donor information. Some of the letters, mostly between Erna Weiss and Dr. I. Adler, who was then the Library’s Director, mention a list of the 250 books, which I have sadly not been able to locate.

“Two hundred and fifty volumes pertaining to…Chassidut”

Here we see correspondence between Erna Weiss and the Dr. Adler, then Director of the JNUL, regarding the shipping of 250 books (mostly on Hasidism) from Weiss’s estate to the Library. In Erna’s response she refers to a list of the books which was needed for legal purposes. This is the list that I am still searching for.

“I have had to draw up a list of the books”

“The valuable library of your late husband…has arrived safely”

Shortly after their arrival, the reception of the volumes was noted in the Library’s inventory, which specifically lists Noam Elimelech and Ohr HaMeir, apparently as the only two which the Library did not previously hold. I am still searching for these two volumes.

*Noam Elimelech* and *Ohr HaMair* in the Library inventory

Approximately one hundred of the volumes were in Hebrew and some 150 in other languages. Some of them contained marginalia in Weiss’s handwriting. By February 1970, the Library reported to Erna Weiss that the volumes had all arrived and in May wrote explicitly that the three special volumes that she had handpicked for Scholem’s personal collection had all been located. The three are Sipurei Maasiot, Yosher Divrei Emet and Ketonet Pasim. In Sipurei Maasiot, the most heavily annotated of the three, Weiss had the book rebound with a blank page for notes next to each page of text, a method that he probably learned from Scholem.

The other two volumes that Erna Weiss had sent for Scholem himself, were two upon which Weiss had published articles, Yosher Divrei Emet and Ketonet Pasim.

Strangely, these books are not located in the Scholem Collection, but rather in the Rare Book Division. All were copied onto one microfilm and later scanned, and are available here.

In total there are currently some eight Hasidic books with Weiss’s annotations in the Rare Book Division, and others in the Scholem Collection.

Some, such as Ketonet Passim, and Haim V’Hesed of R. Haim of Amdor, Weiss had previously published articles on. The other volumes with (less extensive) notes that have been located are, Noam Elimelech,

Meor V’Shamesh,

Lekutei Maharil,

Ahavat Dudim,

and Hayim V’Hesed by R. Haim of Amdor.

A handwritten English note dated 21.12.75 and preserved at the National Library, describes a visit by “Mrs. Erna Weiss, accompanied by Prof Y. [Isaiah] Tishby…and her son [the poet Amos Weisz], came in to inquire what had become of her husband’s collection – mainly ‘Hassidut’ – sent 1970 via London…. apparently, the collection was to be kept intact… (Prof. G. Scholem also took an active role)”. In a second note from a few days later we learn that “Prof. P. [Peretz] Tishby, Chief librarian…telephoned to inform me that most of the collection, as well as relevant correspondence and inventory of the collection is in the Dept. of Manuscripts and Archives – no need to search further”.

On the other hand, Jonatan Meir has written that, “Due to Scholem’s intervention some 250 volumes arrived in Jerusalem, yet a large portion of them mysteriously disappeared”. Sadly, this indeed seems to be the case. In retrospect, it is well known that Scholem’s desperate attempts to preserve the life of his beloved student, ultimately failed. More surprising is that the preservation of Weiss’s library also fell short of Scholem’s usual efficiency. For the world of Hasidic research, this is a double tragedy.

This article is dedicated to the memory of Weiss’s student, Prof. Ada Rapoport-Albert, z”l, who first encouraged me to look into the fate of Weiss’s books at the National Library of Israel.

For Further Reading:

Works of Weiss

Joseph Weiss, unpublished Hebrew dissertation on Dialectical Torah and Faith in R. Nahman of Breslov, can be viewed here

Joseph Weiss, Circles of Discussion: A Collection of Discourses and Customs of R. Nahman of Breslov, Tel-Aviv 1947.

Joseph Weiss, Studies in Braslav Hassidism (Hebrew, Mendel Piekarz, ed.), Jerusalem 1974.

Joseph Weiss, Studies in Eastern European Jewish Mysticism and Hasidism, London and Portland (David Goldstein, ed.), 1985, 1997.

Joseph Weiss, Likutim, (Hebrew, Avinoam Stillman and Yosef Sweig, eds.), Jerusalem 2019.

Works on Weiss

Daniel Abrams, “The Becoming of the Hasidic Book”: An Unpublished Article by Joseph Weiss, Study, Edition and English Translation, in Kabbalah: Journal for the Study of Jewish Mystical Texts vol. 28 (2012), pp. 7-34.

Joseph Dan, Joseph Weiss Today, in Studies in Eastern European Jewish Mysticism and Hasidism, pp. ix-xx.

Jacob Katz, Joseph G. Weiss: A Personal Appraisal, in (Ada Rapoport-Albert, ed.), Hasidism Reappraised, London and Portland 1996, pp. 3-9.

Esther Liebes, On Joseph Weiss [Hebrew], in (David Assaf and Esther Liebes, ed.), The Latest Phase: Essays on Hasidism by Gershom Scholem, Jerusalem 2008, pp. 313-315.

Shaul Magid, The Correspondence of Gershom Scholem and Joseph Weiss, Between Zionism and Friendship, in The Jewish Quarterly Review (summer 2017) 423-440.

Jonatan Meir, Tiqqun ha-Paradox: Josegh G. Weiss, Gershom Scholem, and the Lost Dissertation on R. Nahman of Bratslav [Hebrew], in Mahshevet Yisrael 4 (2023), pp. 151-206.

Jerry Z. Muller, Professor of Apocalypse: The Many Lives of Jacob Taubes, Princeton and London, 2022, pp. 322-323.

Muki Tzur, Introduction, in (Muki Tzur, ed.), Joseph Weiss: Love Letters to Channa Senesh [Hebrew], Tel-Aviv 1996, pp. 5-19.

Sara Ora Heller Wilensky, A Portrait of Friendship: The Correspondence of Gershom Scholem and Joseph Weiss 1949-1957 [Hebrew], in Proceedings of the Tenth World Congress of Jewish Studies, 3:2 (Jewish Thought and Literature), Jerusalem 1990, pp. 57-64.

Sara Ora Heller Wilensky, Joseph Weiss: Letters to Ora, in (Ada Rapoport-Albert, ed.), Hasidism Reappraised, London and Portland 1996, pp 10-41,

Noam Zadoff, On Joseph Weiss and Gershom Scholem: Introductory Words, in (Noam Zadoff, ed.), Gershom Scholem and Joseph Weiss: Correspondence 1948-1964, Jerusalem 2012, [Hebrew], pp. 10-32.