More Than a Thousand Words: Hannah Senesh’s Photographs

Hannah Senesh had a poetic view of the world, as reflected in her own words – her poems, diaries and other writings. But the young paratrooper also left behind another, less well-known viewpoint, as documented through the lens of her camera.

Tamar Lewinsohn | 07.11.24

Hannah Senesh at age sixteen, and her camera which is today preserved in the Senesh Family Archive at the National Library of Israel and made accessible courtesy of Ori and Mirit Eisen.

“Aniko, the serious writer, writing her famous novel.” The inscription behind the black and white photograph is handwritten, easily recognizable from countless other texts written by this young woman – poems, personal notes, diaries and more.

The young woman in the picture, who also wrote the inscription, is “Aniko” herself, better known by her Hebrew name: Hannah Senesh (Szenes). It’s Christmas, 1936. Senesh is pictured in her family home in Budapest. She is sitting at a desk, looking directly at the camera, before her is a notebook and she holds a pen in her hand. Beside her is a picture of her father, the acclaimed writer and playwright, Béla Senesh, whom she lost when she was only six years old.

עיצוב ללא שם — Hannah Senesh sitting at her desk. From the Senesh Family Archive at the National Library of Israel, courtesy of Ori and Mirit Eisen

Béla Senesh, like his daughter, wrote quite a lot of material during his short lifespan, including stories for children, first read to little Hannah and her brother Giora (George). When Hannah was only five years old, she began to follow in her father’s footsteps and started to write.

At a later age she wrote about him:

“There are stars whose light reaches the earth only after they themselves have disintegrated and are no more.

And there are people whose scintillating memory lights the world after they have passed from it.

These lights which shine in the darkest night – are those which illumine for us the path.”

(Translator unknown)

But along with the notebooks, diaries, writing instruments and the typewriter, the “tools of the trade” that we typically associate with a poet, Hannah also had a camera. This creative young woman, the Zionist who dreamed of making an impact and being remembered, left her stamp in more than one way.

In 2022, courtesy of Ori and Mirit Eisen, Hannah Senesh’s archive was deposited in the National Library of Israel as part of the Senesh Family Archive. In addition to manuscripts there are also family photos and many photographs that Senesh took herself – in Hungary on family vacations, and after her aliyah to the Land of Israel. Sometimes she wrote on the back of the photograph, other times the photographs were attached to a letter sent to her mother or brother Giora. The archive also contains Hannah’s camera, an Agfa Box-Spezial Camera in a small leather box lined with blue fabric, her name on it in her own handwriting.

Hannah Senesh’s camera, today preserved in the Senesh Family Archive at the National Library of Israel, courtesy of Ori and Mirit Eisen

Some of the photos are arranged in albums organized and kept by Senesh, some with typewritten captions. “Now I will go to sort out my photographs and reproductions. This activity gives me great pleasure,” she wrote in her diary, (excerpt from Diaries, Poems, Testimonies by Hannah Senesh). Senesh had a collection of postcards and artwork reproductions which are also part of the archive.

The albums are evidence of an imaginative young woman who viewed the world as a poet, with a strong desire to preserve, remember and remind.

“I am writing now from San Pellegrino, sitting on grass, with mountains in front of me and behind me. A stream winds through the valley, a wonderful mix of emotions and images. I’ve taken in so many impressions… I am trying to write everything down, to save the memories of these two days as a keepsake.”
(Excerpt from “Diaries, Poems, Testimonies“)

In the summer of 1937, 16-year-old Senesh travels by train to Italy equipped with a camera. The purpose of the trip is to meet her relatives in Menaggio near Lake Como. On the way she also visits Milan, Venice, and San Pellegrino. “I am full of curiosity and have a camera in my hand,” she writes in her diary.

Dedupmrg843650014 Ie207645980 Fl207645987 — Hannah Senesh on vacation in Italy. From the Senesh Family Archive at the National Library of Israel, courtesy of Ori and Mirit Eisen

After a visit to the Duomo in Milan, she writes in her diary about the experience, and her photographs of the cathedral fill some two pages in her photo album:

“I’d heard a lot about it, and I even saw a picture…as if I saw it in my mind’s eye. Nevertheless, as I now stood at the edge of its vast square, in front of the towering building in all its glory, I looked in awe, breathless, at the whole church as a work of imagination. I started walking towards it, and entered through the bronze gate with its inlaid reliefs. At the first moment, I noticed in the gloom only the outlines of the giant columns… Slowly my eyes were drawn to the Gothic vaults and the capitals of the columns crowned with statues. The vast dimensions contain human destinies, whose hopes, torments and dreams were cast in these columns.”

997012426170505171 0011 — Pictures of Milan from Hannah Senesh’s photograph album, 1937. From the Senesh Family Archive at the National Library of Israel, courtesy of Ori and Mirit Eisen

In 1938, she writes about winning a prize in a school photography competition: “3 films. That’s second prize.” (Excerpt from Diaries, Poems, Testimonies). In March of that year, Senesh is disturbed by the situation prevailing in Europe. She writes in her diary for the first time about political events and describes the occupation of Austria by Hitler. During this year, Senesh declares in her diary that she is a Zionist.

A year later, in March 1939, she is no longer interested in anything but Zionism. “I would not be exaggerating if I write that the only thing by which I live and which occupies me completely is Zionism… I now take upon myself the right to see only ourselves, Judaism, the Land of Israel and its future. The situation is very serious.”

It is Senesh’s last year at school and final exams are approaching. She writes “I hardly pay attention to them and I don’t prepare”. During this period, she writes a letter in Hebrew to Hannah Maisel-Shohat, the director of the agricultural school for young women in Nahalal. She longs to immigrate to Israel and help build the Jewish settlement, “May they accept me!” she writes in her diary.

And she was indeed accepted. Immediately after her 18th birthday, Senesh received the long-awaited certificate. She said goodbye to her mother and set off alone, two days by train and five more days by ship: “I finally arrived home to Eretz Yisrael”.

Dedupmrg842957468 Ie207596159 Fl207596172 — Hannah Senesh on the day of her arrival at Haifa port. From the Senesh Family Archive at the National Library of Israel, courtesy of Ori and Mirit Eisen.

She first came to Haifa and then to the Jezreel Valley, to Nahalal, where she worked in the laundry, dairy, kitchen, and produce warehouse sorting grapefruit. She studied Hebrew and agriculture, developed friendships, and even went on trips — along with her camera.

In Senesh’s many correspondences with her mother Katarina, who remained in Hungary, she asked her to send some basic supplies: “Regarding my other requests, I am really very well equipped, and I don’t know what other things I need. Soon, I will run out of soap, toothpaste, film. Could you send me that? (Excerpt from Only You Will Understand by Hannah Senesh)

At Nahalal, Hannah and her camera were inseparable. “Today I had an impressive success with photography. A few girls who were excited about the Nahalal photos bought film and asked me to photograph them. All eight photos turned out very well. Now everyone wants me to photograph them, as if they’ve appointed me the court photographer.” (Excerpt from Only You Will Understand)

Dedupmrg843682837 Ie207619148 Fl207619155 — Hannah Senesh on a trip with her friends from Nahalal. From the Senesh Family Archive at the National Library of Israel, courtesy of Ori and Mirit Eisen.

Senesh continues her journey in the Land of Israel. She is seeking a kibbutz that suits her mindset, and finally arrives at Sdot-Yam, where she stays until enlisting in the British Army and departing on the mission from which she will not return. She no longer photographs. She reflects on the past, writing, “I’m afraid to look into the depths of the abyss” (Excerpt from Diaries, Poems, Testimonies).

“Only one image draws me back into the past – mother at the train station. Four years. I never believed that the chasm separating us would be so wide.”

The Senesh Family Archive is today deposited at the National Library of Israel and has been made accessible courtesy of Ori and Mirit Eisen.

The Balilius Affair: What Was Jerusalem’s Main Synagogue?

In the late 1920s, a fierce debate erupted between the Ashkenazim and Sephardim in Jerusalem over which synagogue should be considered the main Jewish house of worship in the city. This controversy escalated to an international legal battle that lasted many years.

Arik Kitsis | 04.11.24

Ashkenazic Jewry History of Israel Jerusalem Old Yishuv Sephardic Jewry היסטוריה ישראלית

Presumed portrait of Sima Balilius by an unknown artist. Courtesy of Susan Hyam

Mrs. Sima Balilius died in Hong Kong in 1926 when she was nearly 90 years old. Sima was the daughter of David Joseph Ezra, the leader of the Baghdadi Jewish community in Calcutta, India. When she was around 20 years old, she married Emmanuel Balilius, who was also from one of the city’s aristocratic Jewish families. A few years later, Emmanuel moved to Hong Kong to work in the opium trade. There, he fell in love with a young Chinese woman, and married her. Sima found out but wasn’t willing to give up on her husband. She sailed to Hong Kong to find him. There, the couple reached an agreement that Emmanuel would stay married to both women, and they would all live together in the same house.

Emmanuel died in 1905, and Sima continued managing her husband’s business vigorously until her death, with the elders of Jerusalem gossiping that opium was the most respectable aspect of her dealings. Before his death, Emmanuel arranged in his will to bestow significant sums of money towards the field of education. Two schools were opened in his name: one in Calcutta, which has since closed, and one in Hong Kong, which still operates today. In contrast to her husband, Sima left the money in her will to the impoverished of Jerusalem. She donated 75,000 pounds sterling, the equivalent of several million Israeli shekels today.

Sima was likely influenced by an incident that had occurred a few years earlier, when Elias Kadouri, another wealthy Jew from Hong Kong, left behind money for the purpose of establishing an agricultural school in what was then still Mandatory Palestine. However, the British authorities claimed it wasn’t self-evident that Kadouri intended for it to be a Jewish school. Ultimately, two agricultural schools were established: one Jewish school near Kfar Tavor and one Arab school near Tulkarm. Wanting to avoid a similar situation, Balilius dedicated her bequest to Jerusalem’s poor, through a fund to be managed by the board of trustees of the main synagogue in Jerusalem. However, Sima didn’t explicitly clarify which synagogue she intended to donate the funds to. When news of Balilius’s will reached Israel, a fierce debate ensued between the Ashkenazi community, supported by the Ashkenazi Chief Rabbi Rav Kook, who argued that the main synagogue was Beit Yaakov, more commonly known as the Hurva Synagogue. The Sephardi community, supported by the Sephardi Chief Rabbi Yaakov Meir, claimed that the main synagogue was the one named after Rabbi Yohanan Ben Zakkai, known as the Ribaz. The Mea Shearim Yeshiva also joined in the dispute, claiming entitlement to the funds, but none of the other parties accepted their claims.

990039040400205171 — Rabbi Yaakov Meir’s visit to the Secretariat of the Sephardi Community in Jerusalem. The Pritzker Family National Photography Collection, the National Library of Israel

Moshe David Gaon, a scholar of Eastern Jewry whose archive is housed in the National Library in Jerusalem, was involved in the trial as the secretary of the Sephardi community and as an expert witness. He testified in court about the location and significance of the Ribaz Synagogue.

Each community presented its arguments, some stronger than others. For instance, the Ashkenazim claimed that the Hurva Synagogue was the largest in the city, while the Sephardim argued that the building of the Ribaz Synagogue was the oldest in Jerusalem. The Ashkenazim asserted that the British authorities recognized the Hurva, citing the fact that the High Commissioner Herbert Samuel participated in prayers there. For their part, the Sephardim had proof that the High Commissioner had taken part in prayers at the Ribaz Synagogue, including festive prayers held there to commemorate the King’s birthday and the conquest of Jerusalem during World War I.

997012836922605171 — Entrance ticket to attend prayers at the Ribaz Synagogue with the High Commissioner in attendance. From the Moshe David Gaon Archive, the National Library of Israel. This collection is in the process of being cataloged and will be made accessible at the National Library of Israel, thanks to the kind donation of the Samis Foundation, Seattle, Washington, dedicated to the memory of Samuel Israel.

The Sephardi community brought what they considered conclusive evidence: Mrs. Balilius was of Sephardi descent, and therefore it was clear she intended to leave her donation to her own community’s synagogue. In contrast, the Ashkenazim argued that the name Sima was an Ashkenazi name, and thus she must have been Ashkenazi. It is unclear whether the Ashkenazim made an innocent mistake or intentionally misspoke, but Mrs. Balilius’s first name was actually Simcha; Sima was just her nickname. Regardless, the Ashkenazi claim was dismissed after Sima Balilius’ sister testified that the family was of Sephardi origin.

The parties then moved on to discuss a broader question: What determines whether someone is Ashkenazi or Sephardi and which of these is the main Jewish community? Bernard (Dov) Joseph, the lawyer representing the Hurva Synagogue, and later a minister in the Israeli government, testified in an affidavit to the court that all Jews around the world are Ashkenazi unless born in Portugal, Spain, Greece, Morocco, or Persia. In response, Meir Hay Genio, the lawyer representing the Sephardi community, declared that all Jews are Sephardi, unless they are Ashkenazi.

The parties then debated which community could claim the larger percentage of Jews in Jerusalem. The Ashkenazim claimed they constituted 80% of the city’s Jews, while the Sephardim contended that only 55% of the city’s Jews were Ashkenazi. The Ashkenazim added that all public institutions in the city were Ashkenazi, and the Sephardim responded with a list of all the educational and charitable institutions belonging to their community.

Each community tried to downplay the other’s importance. The Ashkenazim argued that the Sephardi community seemingly represented only the descendants of Spanish exiles, while Jews from other Arab countries were organized into separate communities, and the Ribaz Synagogue didn’t represent them. In response, the Sephardim contended that the Ashkenazi community also wasn’t one unified entity, but rather divided into numerous groups. The Sephardim pointed out that the inscription on the entrance of the Hurva Synagogue read: “Synagogue for the Ashkenazi Perushim kollels in Jerusalem,” which proved that it didn’t represent the entire Jewish public in the city, but only certain Ashkenazi factions.

990049834300205171 — The Hurva Synagogue. Photo: Efraim Dagani. Source: Nadav Man, Bitmuna. From the Dagani Collection. The Pritzker Family National Photography Collection, the National Library of Israel

997009637641205171 — The main hall of the Yohanan Ben Zakkai Synagogue, Jerusalem. Source: Yad Yitzhak Ben Zvi (Israel Revealed), *L’Avenir Illustre* Newspaper Collection, Morocco. This item is part of the Archive Network Israel project and is made digitally accessible through the collaboration of Yad Yitzhak Ben Zvi, the Ministry of Jerusalem Affairs and Heritage, and the National Library of Israel.

The arguments continued back and forth, and journalist Nachum Melitz, who covered the case, wrote as follows: “The books Luchot Eretz Yisrael and the volumes entitled Jerusalem by Rabbi Luntz, Moses and Jerusalem by Sir Moses Montefiore, books by Rabbi Joseph Schwarz, German and English Baedekers [travel guidebooks], etc., seem to have been created not for their own sake, but rather to serve as Tanna Demesay’a [evidence] for the parties discussing the Balilius inheritance.”

The courts in Hong Kong weren’t sure how to resolve the conflict. The judges sought assistance from the British Mandate authorities, but those preferred not to intervene and offered only an ambiguous response noting that “there are two main synagogues in Jerusalem”. An envoy sent by the court to Jerusalem returned with the same answer. The trial continued, and both sides, the Sephardim and Ashkenazim, began to fear that the British government would end up exploiting the dispute and expropriating the funds for its own purposes.

Ultimately, through the mediation of British-Jewish lawyer Norman Bentwich, they reached a compromise to establish a joint committee of both Sephardim and Ashkenazim. The committee would include twelve members— nine Sephardim and three Ashkenazim—and would manage the estate’s funds, which would be distributed at a rate of 75% to the Sephardim and 25% to the Ashkenazim. Although the estate’s funds were depleted due to the lengthy legal proceedings and the stock market crash during the economic crisis of 1929, the estate council succeeded in purchasing several buildings throughout the city, dedicating their income to the poor, and seemingly everything was resolved peacefully.

However, about 25 years later, the case resurfaced due to claims from the Ashkenazim that the Sephardi committee was discriminating against them and transferring less funds than it was obligated to. The matter was brought back to the courts – this time rabbinical courts – and indirectly led to the resignation of two Sephardi Chief Rabbis, Rabbi Yitzhak Nissim and Rabbi Ovadia Yosef. Ultimately, the issue gradually faded away. Today, the only thing that remains of the entire affair is a modest street sign bearing the name Sima Balilius in downtown Jerusalem.

I would like to thank the author Simon Choa-Johnston for his assistance in preparing this article.

The Moshe David Gaon Archive is in the process of being cataloged and will be made accessible at the National Library of Israel, thanks to the kind donation of the Samis Foundation, Seattle, Washington, dedicated to the memory of Samuel Israel. Arik Kitsis is the archivist in charge of handling the Moshe David Gaon Archive.

Libyan Jewry: A Personal Perspective – How Rabbi Mordechai Ha-Cohen of Tripoli Documented His Community

In recent months, the archive of Rabbi Mordechai Ben Yehuda Ha-Cohen of Tripoli has been cataloged and made accessible at the National Library of Israel. He was a scholar, halakhic jurist, and significant chronicler of Libyan Jewry in the early 20th century. Professor Harvey E. Goldberg, a researcher of Libyan Jewry who edited Mordechai Ha-Cohen’s book, "Higgid Mordechai", shares the story of an exceptional rabbi and Renaissance man.

Harvey E. Goldberg | 30.10.24

Archives Jewish Communities Sephardic Jewry היסטוריה ישראלית סודות כתבי היד העבריים

The rabbinical court in Benghazi. Mordechai Ha-Cohen is the second from the left. Photo: Rimoldi-Benghazi, from the Italian translation of "Higgid Mordechai" (Rome 1930).

Mordechai Ha-Cohen, who received his formal education at a Talmud Torah religious school in Tripoli, eventually became the most important historian and documentarian of Libyan Jewry in the early 20th century. He was born in Tripoli in 1856 to a family of Italian origin, and was still very young when his father passed away. His natural curiosity drove him to educate himself and acquire books associated with the Haskalah, the Jewish Enlightenment, to continuously expand his knowledge. He knew Italian from home.

As a young adult, Ha-Cohen began to teach in a Talmud Torah school. To supplement his income, he repaired watches and worked as an itinerant merchant in the city of Tripoli and the surrounding villages. After getting married, he diligently studied rabbinic rulings in Hebrew and Judeo-Arabic and eventually was accepted as a halakhic jurist.

In the early 20th century, Ha-Cohen began compiling Higgid Mordechai, his comprehensive book on the history of Libya and its Jews, including their institutions and customs. The book covers a wide range of topics and relied on diverse sources. Some of it draws on the unpublished manuscripts of Abraham Khalfon (1741-1819) in Judeo-Arabic, while other parts are influenced by the writings of Abraham Hayyim Adadi, who served as the presiding judge of the rabbinical court in Tripoli for nearly 30 years during the 19th century. Ha-Cohen’s insights about the first half of the century came from his interviews with elders of his time and from his own research and observations.

A special section of the book is dedicated to the Jews living near the small market towns scattered throughout the rural communities of Tripolitania, with whom Ha-Cohen interacted as a traveling merchant. Another section describes the Jewish community in Benghazi, where he served as a dayan (a judge in a rabbinical court) from 1919 until the end of his life. It also includes a description of the Italian occupation of Tripoli in the fall of 1911.

The Italian army’s invasion of Tripoli, 1911. Source: Garyounis University

In 1906, Ha-Cohen met Nahum Slouschz, a researcher of Eastern Jewish communities, who had been sent from Paris to Tripoli on behalf of the Alliance Israélite Universelle. During their meeting, Ha-Cohen presented the latter with a manuscript of his work, which he had not yet completed but had finished more than half of it. Slouschz was impressed by Ha-Cohen’s abilities and knowledge and invited him to join his travels outside Tripoli as a guide and translator, and to document them. Ha-Cohen accepted the offer, and together they embarked on two journeys: one eastward to Benghazi and the other deeper into the country, heading south and west.

997009857477005171 — Nahum Slouschz, photograph by Benno Rothernberg. The Benno Rothenberg Archive, the Meitar Collection at the National Library of Israel

In September 1906, Slouschz left Libya after spending about two months there. He and Ha-Cohen corresponded until February 1910. As agreed, Ha-Cohen sent Slouschz his travel journal and, at his request, shared excerpts from the manuscript of his book. Slouschz incorporated these into his publications over the next 30 years but downplayed Ha-Cohen’s contributions.

After Slouschz left Tripoli, Ha-Cohen resumed working on his book. By that time, he was sending articles to HaYehudi in London, and as tensions increased around Italian interests in Libya, he also began submitting articles to Ha-Herut. His correspondence included accounts of military developments during the Italian occupation, which began in September 1911. The situation in Tripoli stabilized relatively quickly, and Ha-Cohen decided to finalize his work with four sections (chapters) reporting on the occupation of Tripoli and Benghazi (the resistance against Italy in the countryside continued for many years).

Over time, Ha-Cohen’s book, Higgid Mordechai, was published. The Italian Colonial Office, which governed Libya, undertook to translate the section of the book focusing on institutions and customs. Martino Mario Moreno, an Italian linguist and scholar of Eastern studies, translated it in collaboration with Ha-Cohen.

In 1915, Ha-Cohen signed a contract with Moreno to work on the translation, although they were likely in contact before this. The publication of this book in collaboration with Moreno seems to be the only time Mordechai had the opportunity to follow the publishing process, from when a manuscript was completed (and reviewed) till it was brought to the printing press. In 1924, the work was published in Benghazi and included notes by Ha-Cohen and by the translator-editor, Martino Mario Moreno.

During World War II, Ha-Cohen’s family got to know the historian Professor Ephraim Elimelech Urbach, who arrived in Libya while serving as a British Army chaplain. He attended to the needs of British soldiers, particularly Jewish ones, including those who volunteered from Mandatory Palestine – the Land of Israel.

The family entrusted the manuscript to Urbach, who then submitted it to the National Library in Jerusalem. A few members of the Ha-Cohen family came to Israel during the great Aliyah (immigration to Israel) including Libyan Jewry, bringing with them a collection of his personal documents. Later, these were also donated to the NLI, and approval for the manuscript to be held by the Library permanently was issued in 1967. The manuscript of Higgid Mordechai is written in Solitreo—a traditional Sephardi version of Hebrew cursive script.

990000453740205171 — The introduction in the original manuscript of *Higgid Mordechai*. The National Library of Israel

Initially, the work attracted the attention of only a few scholars, among them Haim Zeev Hirschberg. It wasn’t until 1979 that the book was published as a volume by the Ben-Zvi Institute, edited by myself based on anthropological research among Jews from Libya.

During his time in Tripoli, Ha-Cohen witnessed rapid technological advancement—accessible water services and sewage systems, regular mail from abroad, and telegraph services. At the same time, he and the wider Jewish community were gradually exposed to both Jewish and broader culture from overseas. His book consciously reflects the literature and language of the Eastern European Hebrew Enlightenment, which is evident in the choice of topics it covers. He praised the values of the Enlightenment while simultaneously defending traditional Jewish positions. Ha-Cohen saw himself as a partner in the effort to revive the Hebrew language and even suggested turning to Arabic as a source for renewing words in a once-dormant language. This perspective also influenced his approach to research. His pan-Jewish outlook was expressed in letters written in Hebrew that he sent to newspapers abroad. There are more than 80 documented articles of his from 1897 to 1914, mostly for the newspapers Ha-Herut and Ha-Yehudi (published in London), in which he reported on what was happening in Libya as well as various other issues.

Paper660 — Report by Mordechai Ha-Cohen on the situation in Libya. *Ha-Herut* newspaper, November 1, 1909. The Historical Jewish Press Collection at the National Library of Israel

Copies of other articles written by Rabbi Mordechai Ha-Cohen can be found in his archive at the National Library of Israel.

Ha-Cohen aspired to belong to an international circle of scholars and felt he was fulfilling this ambition through his connection with Nahum Slouschz. His passion for uncovering the treasures and history of his land was well known; visitors and tourists from various countries were referred to him, and he provided them with information. However, within his own community, his commitment to science wasn’t always appreciated and some felt his writings expressed criticism of Jewish life. In response, he expressed faith in those who valued the unbiased search for knowledge, whoever they were and wherever they could be found. He strove for accuracy in his historical writing—concerning dates, for example—and in describing the Jewish communities of his time, he sought the most up-to-date demographic information possible. He didn’t hesitate to indicate whenever there was any uncertainty involved. When matters were unclear to him, he presented only the facts he knew without drawing conclusions.

An example of this can be seen in a photograph of a page from his correspondence notebook, in which Rabbi Mordechai recorded the number of Jews by communities: א(A) = Jewish communities in Libya; ב(B) = Jewish communities in the world: some categorized by country (for example, “Persia”), and some by city (for example, “Aleppo”); ג(C) = Jewish communities in the Land of Israel.

The archive consists of three components: copies of letters, legal materials, and writings including excerpts from unfinished essays.

The letters—most of which Ha-Cohen sent rather than received—are written in Hebrew, with some in Judeo-Arabic, and they don’t represent all of his correspondence. The documents in the collection are mostly written in Solitreo, with some written in what is known as Rashi script. At the center of the collection of letters is a notebook with 60 pages, mainly consisting of copies of letters; some weren’t created by Ha-Cohen but preserved by him. There are also a few documents beyond the notebook.

Ha-Cohen had extensive correspondence with five individuals. One was Rabbi Hezekiah Shabtai, who served as the Hakham Bashi, or Ottoman Chief Rabbi, in Tripoli from 1904 to 1908. Shabtai drafted a letter of approval for Mordechai’s book, and after Shabtai moved to Aleppo in Syria, the two exchanged information about their respective cities and communities.

The second most frequent correspondent was Nahum Slouschz, and the third was Martino Mario Moreno, who translated Ha-Cohen’s book into Italian. Ha-Cohen also corresponded with two Italian rabbis: Shmuel Tzvi Margaliot, who visited Tripoli in the early years following the Italian occupation, and Eliyahu Shmuel Hartom, who served as the Chief Rabbi in Tripoli from 1920 to 1923. With the latter, Ha-Cohen discussed halakhic issues in his capacity as a judge in the rabbinical court in Benghazi.

Other letters from Ha-Cohen were addressed to a wide range of recipients, reflecting his broad perspective. His active interest is evident in the variety of topics he covered and in his writings preserved in the archive. Two of these are manuscripts written in small notebooks: Netzach Yisrael and Rabbeinu Gershom Meor HaGolah. They were both composed in Benghazi around 1925 but differ in purpose.

The first, which is 22 pages long, addresses “the political and religious progression of the ancient Israelite people since it became a nation.” It is written in Hebrew, using Rashi script, and Ha-Cohen appears to have written it to contribute to education in general, perhaps hoping it would reach readers outside Libya.

The target audience of the second manuscript was the local Jewish community. The background is incomplete, but in 1922, a judge in the Jewish rabbinical court in the city organized the Chevra Kadisha (community volunteers who prepare bodies for Jewish burial) under the name “Rabbeinu Gershom Society.” An annual feast was held in honor of Rabbeinu Gershom, marking the Chevra Kadisha’s contribution to the community. Ha-Cohen took it upon himself to educate the Jews of Benghazi about the historical significance of Rabbeinu Gershom. This work is written in Rashi script, but the language is Judeo-Arabic.

Rabbi Mordechai Ha-Cohen passed away in 1929. He was a man of many talents, but aside from the publication of Higgid Mordechai, many of his initiatives didn’t come to fruition.

The opening page of *Netzach Yisrael*, in Hebrew. The Mordechai Ha-Cohen Archive, the National Library of Israel. This collection has been cataloged and made accessible thanks to the kind donation of the Samis Foundation, Seattle, Washington.

Introduction to *Rabbeinu Gershom Meor HaGolah*, in Judeo-Arabic. The Mordechai Ha-Cohen Archive, the National Library of Israel. This collection has been cataloged and made accessible thanks to the kind donation of the Samis Foundation, Seattle, Washington.

The archive of Rabbi Mordechai Ben Yehuda Ha-Cohen of Tripoli has been cataloged and made accessible at the National Library of Israel, thanks to the kind donation of the Samis Foundation, Seattle, Washington, dedicated to the memory of Samuel Israel. Special thanks to Noa Reichmann for her assistance in registering the archive and making it accessible.

The Goldziher Library: A Scholarly Treasure Revealed

A monumental collection containing books, manuscripts, papers and letters belonging to Ignaz Goldziher, the esteemed Hungarian-Jewish scholar of Islam, has now been fully cataloged - a century after its arrival at the National Library of Israel.

Samuel Thrope | 28.10.24

Archives Islam Islamic Manuscripts

Ignaz Goldziher, the esteemed Hungarian-Jewish scholar of Islam, photographed in his youth. The Abraham Schwadron Portrait Collection at the National Library of Israel

During the Sukkot holidays in 1924—just a little more than a century ago—Jerusalem’s elite gathered at the Midrash Abarbanel Library, as the National Library of Israel was then known, for an uncommon celebration. Local Jewish, Muslim, and Christian notables, foreign diplomats, Zionist leaders, and British Mandate officials met to mark the opening of the Goldziher library to the public. As the name suggests, the library contained the personal research collection of the late leading European scholar of Arabic and Islam, Ignaz Goldziher. Purchased by the Zionist movement from Goldziher’s family after the Jewish-Hungarian scholar’s death in 1921, the 6,000 volumes had been shipped from Budapest to Jerusalem months before. Now, the collection was finally on display in a four-room annex, rented just for that purpose, adjoining the existing library building in the city center.

A section of the Goldziher Library, photographed shortly after its arrival at the Midrash Abarbanel Library, as the NLl was once known, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection, the National Library of Israel

Chaim Weizmann, president of the World Zionist Organization, Judah Magnes, soon to be appointed chancellor of the Hebrew University, and others addressed the assembled notables emphasizing how in the Goldziher library “scholars from all the races and religions of the Land of Israel would meet in a collective effort.” Goldziher’s few thousand books served as the foundation for the more than half a million volumes that make up the Islam and Middle East Collection of the National Library of Israel today.

That Jerusalem celebration capped years of intense effort. Zionist leaders in London had fought hard to buy Goldziher’s library when it was put up for sale, beating out competing bids from leading universities in Europe, America, and even as far away as Japan. Goldziher was one of the founders of the European academic study of Islam, renowned within his own lifetime, and his works are still considered essential to this day. As a world-famous Hungarian scholar, securing the permit to remove Goldziher’s books from the country required the intervention of the British embassy in Budapest, and only a last-minute transfer of funds convinced the scholar’s widow, Laura, to finally allow the books to leave.

990037399550205171 B — “The Jewish ladies of Rhodesia paid part of the cost of the Golziher-Library” – A plaque in the Hebrew University’s Wolfson building, one of the former homes of the NLI, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection, the National Library of Israel

This successful acquisition was a major coup for the growing Jerusalem library, as well as for the Hebrew University, which opened a year later in 1925. Over the course of decades, Goldziher had slowly built up his collection of Arabic, Persian, and Turkish books and manuscripts, as well as scholarly publications on Islam. This process began with an extended study and book-buying tour through the Middle East in 1873. Alongside essential works on the Qur’an, hadith, and Islamic law, literature, theology, and mysticism, Goldziher’s library also contained numerous titles on Jews and Judaism—observant throughout his life, he had served for many years as secretary of the Budapest Jewish community—philosophy, travel literature, Classics, and other topics. No private collection in Europe, and only a handful of university or public libraries, could rival the breadth and importance of Goldziher’s collection.

Goldziher made annotations, mostly in German and Arabic, in the margins of many of his books, and these notes only increased the collection’s value. It was hoped that access to his marginal corrections and private musings would be almost as instructive as having the great scholar himself at hand.

Goldziher2 — Ignaz Goldziher, pictured with his two sons, circa the 1890s. The Abraham Schwadron Portrait Collection at the National Library of Israel

Alongside his library, Goldziher also preserved in his home in Budapest a voluminous archive of correspondence. Over the course of decades, he had exchanged letters, on topics scholarly and profane, with European students of Arabic and Islam, Muslim thinkers and theologians, Jewish scholars and writers, and other admirers. All told, Goldziher received and preserved more than 13,500 letters from 1,650 individuals in eleven languages. According to his wishes, this epistolary archive was bequeathed to the Hungarian Academy of Sciences in Budapest. Now digitally available through a dedicated website, Goldziher’s letters are an invaluable primary source for understanding not only his own life but a whole period in the history of Hungarian Jewry and in the European engagement with and study of the Muslim world.

Even though Goldziher’s correspondence and other archival materials were meant to remain in Budapest, in 1924, when the librarians in Jerusalem opened the shipping crates and began to catalog Goldziher’s books, they discovered a surprise. Letters, notes, and memoranda were found in many volumes. While some were clearly meant to serve as additional space for commentary and reflection on an author’s argument—a kind of extension of a book’s margins—others had apparently been stuck between the pages and forgotten.

990037399550205171 C — The Goldziher Library photographed at the NLI’s former home in the Hebrew University’s Wolfson building, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection, the National Library of Israel

Dutifully, the librarians, chief among them David Hartwig Baneth, the Berlin-born Arabist and future director of the National Library, removed the letters and other papers from the volumes, placing them in envelopes on which were written the books’ new call numbers. These envelopes bear the Library’s name, but not in Hebrew. Instead, they are stamped with the German title Jüdische Nationalbibliothek – a sign of the institution’s European identity at the time. These envelopes, as well as offprints of articles and other documents that did not fit inside them, were then set aside to be dealt with later.

However, as is sometimes the case in the history of libraries, this “later” turned out to be not next week, next month, nor even next year, but almost a century. It was only this year, 2024, that the Goldziher archive at the National Library of Israel was finally catalogued.

Ms Ar 2 001 Photography By Ardon Bar Hama — Goldziher’s notes and emendations in Arabic and German on a manuscript of Abu Hatim al-Sijistani’s *News of the Aged* (Akhbar al-mu’ammarin), copied in Cairo in 1892, Ms. Ar. 2. Photograph by Ardon Bar Hama. From the collections of the National Library of Israel, Project “Warraq”.

After first having been reviewed by Sabine Schmidtke of the Princeton Institute for Advanced Studies—and with the Institute’s financial support—Goldziher’s archive was cataloged by Kinga Dévényi of the Library of the Hungarian Academy of Sciences. Dévényi spent two intensive weeks in the NLI’s Special Collections Reading Hall deciphering Hungarian asides and Arabic notations. The former curator of the Goldziher collection in Budapest, she is also the co-editor, along with Hans-Jürgen Becker, Sebastian Günther, and Schmidtke, of the recent book Building Bridges: Ignaz Goldziher and His Correspondents (Brill, 2024).

The fruits of her labors include a brief Hebrew-language summary of Mamonides’ epochal philosophical treatise The Guide for the Perplexed, written when Goldziher was only seventeen; notes for a planned article on Abu Mahdhura al-Jumahi (d. 678), an early convert to Islam and companion of the Prophet Muhammad who was responsible for calling the faithful to prayer in Mecca; an invitation to attend a public lecture by the American-Jewish Orientalist Richard Gottheil in Cairo on February 24, 1905, and more. Notably, among the printed items, she identified several reviews of Goldziher’s publications, a reflection of his well-known practice of collecting critiques of his work.

Goldziher3 — Ignaz Goldziher, the Abraham Schwadron Portrait Collection at the National Library of Israel

In cataloging the Goldziher archival material, Dévényi applied the expertise developed during her previous work with the Hungarian Academy of Sciences collection. The archive contains a diverse array of both handwritten and printed materials. The often-brittle papers, frequently consisting of loose pages, had inevitably become mixed up over the past hundred years. Therefore, her initial task was to carefully sort the material, determining which pieces belonged together. She then separated the handwritten materials from the printed ones and tried to group the documents thematically. Given the special significance of the items, she cataloged each piece individually, ensuring careful attention to detail. She took measurements and counted the folios where relevant, especially for manuscripts and other unique documents.

After the Goldziher papers in Jerusalem are scanned, we hope that they can be digitally reunited with the much larger archive in Budapest, allowing scholars and students to benefit from new perspectives on Goldziher’s life and work.