Yom HaShoah week is a fitting time to highlight Israel’s Violins of Hope, its treasured musical tributes, and a group of Christians who are also focused on remembrance. Founded by Amnon Weinstein, he lovingly restores violins which lasted through the Holocaust. In their Tel Aviv workshop, Amnon and his son Avshi touch the violins with their skillful hands to help the violins sing again in concerts which win international accolades. Amnon is considered one of the world’s foremost luthiers. His medals and memberships internationally are extensive.
South Carolina’s state motto “While I breathe, I hope,” is also fitting with its group of citizens will lift up its meaning to new heights. A volunteer committee, both Jews and Christians, are already making sure the violinists who played their instruments while trapped in hell on earth will be remembered. The violinists uncovered beauty in the cavernous darkness of despair. Each violin has a story.
Bar-Mitzvah in front of the Auschwitz entrance
The scale of the Shoah prevents us from perceiving it in a whole. Human psyche’s self-defence mechanism is evoked, often blocking us from absorbing it in its enitre shocking volume. We know its methodic plan and idea. We also know the incomprehensible outcome of it. It comes as facts of history. But what connects us with our brethren perished in that unspeakable crime is the way of personal identification with real people from those six – and in all likeness, more – million murdered Jews. That’s why many of us randomly adopt one Jewish person from the Yad Vashem data-base every January 27th, to identify with that Polish girl, or that Hungarian boy, or that Lithuanian woman. My husband and I are doing it annually, and we treasure that somber but also warm and personal moment when a face and a name appears on our screens and we are able to commemorate the taken lives of more than six million souls while identifying with just