The Maharal’s Robot: The High-Tech Golem of Rehovot

What do the Golem of Prague and one of Israel’s first computers have in common? Gershom Scholem explains.

In just 70 short years, Israel has become known worldwide as the Start-Up Nation. What began as the little country that could, has become a leading nation in the world of technological innovation.

While in today’s day and age we are lucky enough to have a computer in every home and an even smaller computer in the form of a cellphone in every pocket, it is hard to imagine that the world’s first computers once filled entire rooms and sometimes, entire buildings.

Israel’s first computer, a project that was spearheaded by Professor Chaim L. Pekeris at the behest of Chaim Weizmann, the WEIZAC, an acronym for Weizmann Automatic Computer, took up the space of a large auditorium. The project cost about $50,000, approximately 20% of the Weizmann Institute’s annual budget at that time. After a year of dedicated work and preparation, the project was completed in 1955 and the WEIZAC performed its first calculations.

In 1959, after about four years of work, the WEIZAC began to fail and a new computer was designed to takes its place. The new machine was completed in 1963 and the WEIZAC was shut down to make room for the next model. Upon hearing of completion of the next generation computer, Gershom Scholem reached out to Pekeris and suggested he name the machine, “Golem Aleph.”

The Sentinel, April 22, 1965

Dr. Pekeris agreed to the suggestion but only on condition that Scholem would come to the dedication ceremony for the new computer and explain why it should be named so. Gershom Scholem was invited to attend and give the opening remarks at the dedication at the Weizmann Institute on June 17, 1965 for what he referred to as “The Golem of Rehovoth.”

In his remarks, Scholem provided what he felt was an obvious comparison between the classic tale of the Golem and the brand new computer.

Rabbi Yehuda Loew ben Bezalel, known in Jewish tradition as the Maharal of Prague, is credited by Jewish popular tradition with the creation of a Golem.

The Golem of Prague was built from clay and, once the body was complete, the rabbi put the ineffable name of God in the figures mouth and the Golem came to life. The Golem performed for his master, protecting the Jews from anti-Semitic attacks. With all of his powers, the Golem was not granted the power of speech.

One Friday, the rabbi forgot to put the Golem to rest for the Sabbath as he was accustomed to do. The Golem suddenly grew in size and in a fit of rage, went on a destructive rampage. When the news reached the synagogue where the rabbi was praying, he rushed out into the street to confront his own creature. Rabbi Loew stretched out his arm and tore the Holy Name out of the Golem’s mouth, returning him to his original form as a lump of clay.

Scholem gave several reasons for the name be bestowed on the new computer. He explained that at their foundation, the Golem- “Rabbi Loew’s robot,” and the Golem Aleph had the same most basic function. The Golem was brought to life by the combination of the 22 letters of the Hebrew Alphabet that took shape as the name of God. The Golem computer knows only two symbols, the zero and one that make up the binary system. Everything can be translated into just these two terms so the Golem Aleph can process it. “I daresay the old Kabbalists would have been glad to learn of this simplification of their own system. This is progress,” said Scholem.

The Golem computer, at the Weizmann Institute of Science, photograph by Yuval Madar

Both the Golem and Golem Aleph function through energy, Scholem explained. The Golem, through the ineffable name of God and the computer, through the use of electric energy.

As for the shape, it is there that Scholem hit a tough spot for the computer cannot be compared to the shape of man. He did draw a physical comparison when he explained that unlike the Golem of Prague who was given the beautiful form of man, the Golem Aleph computer was not the most beautiful of creations but- for the computer, the beauty of the creation is what lies within. “External beauty has been denied to him,” said Scholem of the computer. “What kind of spiritual beauties lurk inside, we shall learn in due time, I hope.”

Lastly, Scholem compared the growth potential of the two creations. The Golem, after flying into a fit of rage, grew in size wherein the Golem computer was expected to only shrink as improvements are made in the future.

“Whether the Golem of Prague could correct his mistakes, I doubt,” said Scholem. “The New Golem seems to be able, in some ways, to learn and to improve himself. This makes the modern Kabbalists more successful than the ancient ones, and I may congratulate them on this score.”

Gershom Scholem from the Schwadron Portrait Collection, National Library of Israel

Scholem closed his remarks with a simple request to the inventors of the Golem Aleph:

“All my days I have been complaining that the Weizmann Institute has not mobilized the funds to build up the Institute for Experimental Demonology and Magic which I have for so long proposed to establish there. They preferred what they call Applied Mathematics and its sinister possibilities to my more direct magical approach. Little did they know, when they preferred Chaim Pekeris to me, what they were letting themselves in for. So I resign myself and say to the Golem and its creator: develop peacefully and don’t destroy the world. Shalom.”

Computers may have morphed from auditorium sized machines to electronic devices that fit into the palm of your hand, but Gershom Scholem’s request is timeless- else the computer may have a violent end similar to the one brought on by the Golem of Prague.

This post was written as part of Gesher L’Europa, the NLI’s initiative to connect with Europe and make our collections available to diverse audiences in Europe and beyond.




How the German-Jewish Refugees Flourished in the Kenyan Farmlands

These rare photos show the story of the Jewish refugees who settled in Kenya in the 1930s.

When the first Kenyan Jews settled in Nairobi in 1903, it didn’t take long before they became a proper community, but they remained a small community of just a few dozen people for several decades.

All that changed when the Nazis took power in Germany and an exodus of German Jews found themselves seeking refuge in places they never would have expected.

Granted, the influx of Jews to Kenya was small, but that didn’t stop them from having to go through the British Colonial Office that was in charge of immigration to Kenya. In order to gain immigration status in Kenya, one had to be registered as a farm manager- something that was hard to come by for the Jewish immigrants and which limited their ability to settle. The local Jewish community worked hard to encourage Jewish immigration, but found much resistance from white European settlers and from the Indian community in East Africa that had backing from the British Colonial Office. Obviously, the opinion of the indigenous black population was not considered.

While the Jews of Nairobi were working hard on the local immigration initiative, British Jewry in England started their own widespread settlement campaign for thousands of Jews to relocate from Europe to the Kenyan Farmlands. They would settle in the White Highlands, which had already been designated for colonial farms.

In August 1938 the British initiative was registered as a private company limited by shares under the title Plough Settlements Association LTD that had an initial capital of 25,000 pounds. One of the partners for the British company was the JCA – Jewish Colonization Association – or as it is commonly known by its Hebrew initials: יק”א.

The initiative was presented as a colonial and financial enterprise and the hidden idea of rescuing Jews from the European continent was kept under wraps. The immigration activists met with established farmers in Kenya, the British Colonial Office officials, and other officiants in order to study and ready the ground, and gain traction and support for the immigration initiative.

The Jewish immigrants were not able to purchase farms upon their arrival, nor could they find ways to work on the farmlands where they could train as farm hands in order to eventually become farm managers. Many of the requests, and their rejections, were kept in the initiative’s archives.

The Synagogue in Nakuru, Kenya
A memorial for victims of the Holocaust

This article is based on the Jewish Colonization Association archive kept in the Central Archive of the Jewish People.

Photographs courtesy of David Lichtenstein, Sydney, son of Henry (Heinz) Lichtenstein, a farmer in Kipkarren, Usain Gishu province, Kenya.




How a Man Named Saul Became King for a Day in Poland

This is the legend of how a tiny Torah was commissioned by a Jew who served as king of Poland for just one day.

The Torah scroll dedicated to Rabbi Saul Wahl

A Jewish King in Poland? An oxymoron if ever there was one. Yet, at the National Library of Israel, we have a small and rare Torah scroll, no taller than 10 centimeters, dedicated to one Saul Wahl, the crowned Jewish King of Poland- for just one day.

Saul Katzenellenbogen was born in 1541 into a well-off Jewish family from Venice. His father, Rabbi Samuel Yehuda Katzenellenbogen, was the chief rabbi of the prosperous Venetian Jewish community. After growing up and receiving his education in Italy, Saul was sent to Poland to teach in one of its prestigious yeshivot.

Saul’s religiosity did not prevent him from entering more earthly business ventures. He entered the trade business and in 1580, Saul moved to Krakow to run the salt mines of the King of Poland that were leased out to make a profit for the monarchy. Saul was extremely successful in his time in the salt mines and quickly became a close and loyal adviser to the king.

Stephen Báthory, the king to whom Saul Katzenellenbogen advised

However, this is not the whole story. How could it be? Well, when you combine the real story behind the man, and the legend of the man, the combination makes for a story so fantastic, it is almost unbelievable.

When the king of Poland died, a painful war of succession began. The holy constitution of the Kingdom of Poland determined that a new king can be coronated only after he is elected by the lords of the court – a process that must not take more than 21 days. The Polish lords sequestered themselves and tried to make sense of the process, but the deliberations went on and on and instability reigned. There was no hint of a resolution on the horizon and the deadline to crown a new king was coming due.

In order to uphold the sanctity of the constitution and to keep the kingdom from falling to anarchy, an ingenious idea was proposed: Saul Katzenellenbogen, the late king’s trusted adviser and loyal friend, would be crowned temporary king for one day. They reasoned that, because everyone knew Katzenellenbogen to be an honest man, he would not consider usurping the throne nor would he stay upon it longer than was necessary. Thus, Saul Katzenellenbogen became Saul “Wahl,” which means “The Chosen” in Polish, and he was crowned king.

As the newly minted king of Poland, Saul Wahl Katzenellenbogen wasted no time. While the lords continued agonizing over the selection of a new king, King Saul put out multiple decrees aimed at improving the status of the Jews living in the Kingdom of Poland.

At the end of his first and only day as king, King Saul was asked to decide between the final two royal candidates and it was his choice that brought about the coronation of King Sigismund III Vasa of Poland.

The tiny Torah in the National Library’s collections dedicated to King Saul Wahl gives veracity to the idea that there really was a temporary Jewish King.

However, there is no true historical evidence to support this. The legend of the Jewish King of Poland comes to us from non-Jewish sources and may indeed be a fabrication, but does that truly matter?

Photos of the small Torah by Hanan Cohen, the National Library of Israel




The Red that Created a Revolution

In 1868, a German laboratory synthesized a color that changed the course of the Industrial Revolution.

Friedrich Bayer & Co. Dye Label. 1865. From the Edelstein Collection in the National Library of Israel

The year 2018 marks the 150th anniversary of the first synthesis in a laboratory of a complex, naturally occurring organic chemical product. This was the important red dye known as alizarin, obtained from the root of the madder plant. The madder red, second in importance only to indigo blue, had been used as a versatile dye for hundreds of years and is best known for its application in production of the famous Turkey red cloth. By clever application of the agents used to fix the dye to cloth, various shades and hues could be achieved from the same dye.

Eduard Lauber, Praktisches Handbuch des Zeugdrucks, Moscow, 1887. From the Sidney Edelstein Collection, the National Library of Israel

The chemical synthesis of alizarin was achieved in early 1868 by Carl Graebe and Carl Liebermann (a relative of the artist Max Liebermann), who were research assistants of the chemist Adolf Baeyer. The significance of this achievement lay in the tremendous industrial importance of the natural dye, which was often applied using high-speed printing machines that colored millions of yards of cloth. As an outcome of the synthesis, alizarin was manufactured on vast scales in Britain and Germany, which in a flash, almost wiped out much of the cultivation and trade in the natural dye. This success was the main stimulus for the emergence of the synthetic dye industry, which transformed coal tar waste into alizarin and a myriad of other colored textile dyes. The early dyes were based on the chemical known as aniline, which gave its name to the industry.

Carl Theodore Liebermann, 1868

Theodore Herzl was so impressed that, in 1896, he was inspired to write a short story, ‘The Aniline Inn’, in which, just like the transformation, or processing, of waste tar into ‘beautiful radiant colors’, the oppressed Jewish peoples could turn their despair into highly colorful achievement. This ‘refuse of human society’ was then waiting to be processed and given purpose in the Jewish State.

The synthesis of alizarin stimulated scientific studies into the chemical constitutions and molecular structures of both natural products such as alizarin and indigo, and others without analogous colors in nature. In 1868, only a partial structure could be drawn for alizarin. Six years later, the modern structure of alizarin was published by Adolf Baeyer and the industrial chemist Heinrich Caro at BASF, a chemical company based in Ludwigshafen.

This advance drew on, and in many ways reinforced, the acceptance of Kekulé’s famous six membered benzene ring of 1865. It also led to scientific studies into all novel colorants, such that within a few years it was possible to create color by design. This was a high point of the second industrial revolution, based on chemical industry and electricity. Synthetic dyes represented the very first high-tech science-based industry.

Badische Anilin & Soda Fabrik, Anilinfarben auf Halbwolle, Ludwigshafen, 1910. From the Sidney Edelstein Collection, the National Library of Israel

By the close of the 19th century, Germany practically dominated the industry of making synthetic dyes. This success relied on the opening of dedicated research laboratories, and collaborations between industry and technical institutes. In 1897, two German firms, BASF and Hoechst, commenced the manufacture of synthetic indigo, which within a few years displaced the blue natural product imported into Europe from India.

This revolution in the production of textile dyes, which began with synthetic alizarin, and its implications for global industries and economies, as well as for progress in science and technology, is recorded in the magnificent collection of books, pamphlets, recipes and archival documents gathered together by Sidney M. Edelstein. Today these documents are held with the Sidney M. Edelstein Library for the History and Philosophy of Science, Technology and Medicine at the National Library of Israel.