On-line exhibitions

The Torah, which contains the Five Books of Moses, is the central concept of the Jewish religion. In its physical form, it is a parchment scroll which, when not in use, is kept in an ornamental cabinet at the front of the synagogue. Out of reverence, the Torah scroll is covered with a decorative mantle of cloth, over which are placed a set of adornments – finials or a crown (over the upper ends of the rollers), a shield, and a hand-shaped pointer (hung in front of the scroll when stored in the ark). Although the pointer is one of the Torah ornaments, its main function is practical; it is used to follow the text as it is being read so as to avoid any mistakes. In addition, the pointer ensures that the scroll is not touched with one’s hands – which is prohibited – when reading from it.

The physical form of the Torah pointer is reflective of its purpose and its use, which is far more intensive than that of other types of Torah ornaments. It is fairly compact, usually with few decorative elements, and of a size that allows for comfortable and safe use. The typical pointer made in Central Europe has a shaft which terminates in a small hand with an extended index finger, drawing attention to its use. The pointer’s segments (handle and reading end) are articulated by knops roughly halfway along the length of the shaft. A chain is attached to the rear end of the shaft to suspend the pointer from the Torah staves. In the collection of the Jewish Museum in Prague, however, there is also a small group of Torah pointers that differ in one small detail from all the others – the reading end is shaped as a left hand.

About one-tenth of the human population are left-handed. Like any difference, left-handedness was once regarded as suspicious and inappropriate, and the bearers of this trait were restricted in many ways. Indeed, until historically very recent times, various efforts were often made to ‘re-educate’ left-handed people. In Judaism, left-handedness was originally defined as a physical defect. This definition was of grave significance to left-handed people; it provided a basis to prevent them from being called upon to read from the Torah, which in effect led to a substantial decline in their social status and to their marginalization from the Jewish community. From about the end of the 18th century onwards, however, this attitude was gradually relaxed, and left-handed people over time became full members of the Jewish community. Left-handed Torah pointers are a visible expression of the emancipation of these people, reminding us that left-handedness is no longer a reason to discriminate.

This exhibition was put together by Jaroslav Kuntoš.

Translantion: Stephen Hattersley

The Torah is a central feature of the Jewish religion. In its physical form, it is a parchment scroll containing the Five Books of Moses, which is kept in a decorative case at the front of the synagogue. As a sign of reverence for the Torah scroll, it is wrapped in a mantle of cloth and is decorated with a set of ornaments – finials or a crown placed on the upper part of the rollers, and a shield and pointer suspended over the front of the scroll. The Torah shield developed from what was originally a simple plaque hung on the outside of the scroll for indicating which part of the text was to appear immediately after being unwound. Over time, the shield became larger and its functional purpose became overshadowed by its decorative one.

Due to its size, the Torah shield is the most visible Torah scroll ornament and its fashioning has always been the focus of great attention. Judging from extant historical examples, its appearance was already established in the Bohemian lands by the turn of the 17th and 18th centuries; it had a relatively uniform basic shape and iconography with a limited number of decorative elements. Minor deviations from this standard model can usually be explained by a particular client’s specific requirement for individualization. In the first half of the 19th century, however, a group of Torah shields were made here that completely deviated from the traditional norm. All of these items came from the workshop of the Prague silversmith Tomáš Höpfel.

Tomáš (Thomas) Höpfel was probably born in 1790 or 1793 in Bernau in the south-eastern corner of Bavaria. There are no extant reports on his training, but it is possible that he learned the silversmithing craft in Nuremberg. As a journeyman he moved to Prague, where he married in 1814 and was declared a full master of the Goldsmiths’ and Silversmiths’ Guild of Prague in the following year. From the very outset, he focused his activities largely on cooperating with local Jewish communities, which at the time were in the process of replacing their ceremonial objects, which had been confiscated by the state to pay off its debts. He continued this collaboration, which was very fruitful in terms of the number of objects made, until his death in 1847. In the following years, his workshop produced several pieces of Judaica under the supervision of his widow.

It is not clear what led the master silversmith to fundamentally rework the standard Torah shield. As already mentioned, we have no information about his training as a craftsman and artist, but the technical craftsmanship in his work was clearly better than average. After arriving in Prague, he was probably employed in the workshop of Václav Rummel Sr., whose surviving work for Jewish clients was of a common standard, which suggests that he found no inspiration here. All that remains is to assume that Höpfel either used his own creativity or modified objects in a way that was not initially deliberate, but perhaps based on mere verbal assignments from clients. One can only speculate both on the extent to which Jewish clients were able to determine what the shield was to look like, and on the details of the made-to-order specifications for similar objects. In any case, the first extant Torah shield from the workshop of the new master silversmith, dating from 1815, differs greatly from the regular production. Nevertheless, it was accepted by those who had commissioned it, which somewhat calls into question the commonplace notion regarding the conservatism of Jewish clients. Furthermore, Höpfel was able to develop his own ideas as to what the Torah shield should look like, sometimes with very surprising results.

Exhibition created by Jaroslav Kuntoš

Translation: Stephen Hattersley

In a small-town shul (synagogue) there’s a dispute about who should daven shacharit (say morning prayers) far’n omed (at the pulpit). One Jew shouts out: “I have a Yahrzeit today, so I have to daven today!” A second Jew shouts out: “Yahrzeit is Yahrzeit. But I, I have shloshim (the thirtieth day of mourning) today. I take precedence, I have to daven! A third Jew shouts out: “It’s not even 14 days since my father died, I have to daven.” And while they are arguing, another Jew goes up to the pulpit and shouts out: "I myself am a corpse, so I have to daven!”

This charming joke appeared in Židovské zprávy [Jewish News] (Volume 18, No. 38, p. 4) on 20 September 1935, as written by Josef Pollák, later the chief curator at the Central Jewish Museum in Prague. What does Yahrzeit mean? For those who speak German, this word can evoke one of the four seasons. But in Yiddish, the term Yahrzeit (or yortsayt, sometimes spelled jahrzeit) has taken on a different meaning: it refers to the anniversary of the day of death of a loved one. Important members of the community and, in particular, influential scholars are also commemorated on their Yahrzeits by unrelated persons. Their graves are visited by their former pupils, and these Yahrzeits are memorable days for the entire community.
Until the 19th century, it was not difficult to determine the date of a Yahrzeit, as it corresponded to the Hebrew date of death, or, less frequently, to the date of the funeral of the person being commemorated. A certain problem could have occurred only in the event of a postponed funeral that took place later than the second day after a death, or if the person died during a leap year in the first or second month of Adar. The religious literature provides solutions for such cases. The time of remembrance for the deceased came to be seen as a more general complication only with the changing perception of time in the Jewish world in connection with the problems brought about by the Jews’ shift towards the civil/Gregorian calendar.

The Yahrzeit date is calculated according to the Jewish calendar, which differs in many ways from the civil calendar. It represents the traditional count of years since the creation of the world as described in Genesis; the year 2021, for example, corresponds to 5781. Based on the lunar calendar, the months are either 29 or 30 days long. As a result, the Jewish year is eleven days shorter than the standard solar year. In order to keep the dates of Jewish holidays aligned with the seasons, a thirteenth month is added to the Jewish calendar in a leap year; this happens seven times in nineteen years.

The collections of the Jewish Museum in Prague contain a set of Yahrzeit plaques, which are traditionally used to memorialize the passing of a loved one. Each plaque is inscribed with the Hebrew name of the person who is to be remembered in prayer (including the names of their father and/or mother). The main purpose of the Yahrzeit plaque is to record, for several years in advance the civil calendar dates that correspond to the Hebrew date of death of the departed (usually a parent, or both parents). These dates also impact the family life of the bereaved: on the Yahrzeit of the departed, it is not appropriate to attend any celebrations or parties, to make wedding preparations, or to indulge in entertainment. Yahrzeit plaques recall that the death of a person is part of the lives of others. Despite the solemnity, the Yahrzeit ritual provides a comforting way to remember a loved one for many years to come.

Exhibition created by Lenka Uličná

Translation: Stephen Hattersley

With the online exhibition "Going into Battle with Prayer" we want, on the background of selected documents and photographs, to honor JUDr. Hanuš Rezek (Rebenwurzel), the military field rabbi in the Czechoslovak Foreign Army who served in the Middle East and later in the UK. His psychological and moral support was being recalled even after many decades following the Second World War by numerous former soldiers in their testimonies. In addition to daily tasks associated with religious practice, Rezek was in an intense contact with individual soldiers and used to have long talks with them in which he tried to encourage and motivate them in their struggle for the liberation of Czechoslovakia. After the Second World War Rezek returned to Prague, where he tried hard to restore the Jewish community and religious life. He was also at the birth of the organization The Circle of Jewish Participants in the Czechoslovak Resistance, and sought, among other things, to refute the false claim that the Jews had not participated actively in the fight against the Nazi Germany. Hanuš Rezek died tragically in a plane crash in December of 1948.

We would like to thank Mr. Yehoshua Rezek, son of Hanuš Rezek, for providing digital materials to the Shoah History Department of the Jewish Museum in Prague.

The exhibition was curated by Magdalena Sedlická.

"I'm glad I've had this opportunity to recall my parents in this way. By remembering them, I think I've prolonged their lives, and the lives of their parents. They will not be forgotten. I'm happy that you're preserving the memory of them." Ivana Beranová's words introduce this archival materials presentation, which comprises excerpts from a biographical interview she provided to the Jewish Museum in Prague, along with unique photographs and documents from her family archive. Personal accounts from both Ivana and her mother, Marta Fantlová (whose testimony was recorded 16 years earlier) appear in the texts that accompany the photographs and documents. Her mother's words are cited in quotation marks.

By focusing on Ivana Beranová's life, the online presentation "I no longer have to be afraid of my neighbours" intends to highlight the impact of major historical events of the 20th century on Jewish families living under the Nazi and Communist totalitarian regimes. Based on interviews with two generations of a single family, the presentation seeks to outline how Shoah survivors and their children (the second generation) have dealt with their traumas. It also draws attention to life in the Jewish community as a locus of common experience, sharing and close relations, as well as something that is more or less compelled to identify itself against the wider society. Despite the horrific attempt to liquidate the Jews and its traumatic impact on survivors and the next generations, the story of Ivana Beranová's family points to the continuity of Jewish life in the Czech Republic, to the sense of belonging in the Jewish community and to the preservation of Jewish traditions.

The online presentation also highlights the work of the Jewish Museum's Shoah History Department and its Oral History Collection, in this case reflecting the importance of testimonies from several generations of a single family. The Jewish Museum's oral history collection has been carefully put together since 1990 and is one of the largest and most diverse of its kind in the Czech Republic. At present, it includes more than 1,300 testimonies. The collection also contains valuable material from family archives that has been provided by the interviewees. Through oral history, we aim to document the lives of Jews in this country throughout the 20th century. Our focus is not only on recollections of the Shoah period, but also on the post-war experience of the first and second generations of Jewish survivors. We therefore welcome other testimonies and related material.