A photo gallery for Yom HaZikaron and Yom HaAtzmaut

Because today, 13 May 2024, is Yom HaZikaron (Israel’s Memorial Day), and tomorrow, 14 May 2024, will be Yom HaAtzmaut (Israel’s Independence Day), I decided to share some of my photos illustrating what these holidays mean, and the history behind them.

Above are some of the graves from Mount Herzl Cemetery in Jerusalem, honoring fallen soldiers. Just about everyone goes to at least one cemetery to pay respects on Yom HaZikaron, and there are databases of soldiers with no family (e.g., Holocaust survivors who died in the War of Independence after losing their entire families), so everyone will be remembered by someone.

The grave of Hannah Senesh (Chana Szenes), who was born in Budapest on 17 July 1921 and immigrated to Pre-State Israel in 1939. She enlisted in the British Women’s Auxiliary Air Force in 1943, and on 14 March 1944, the day the Nazis invaded Hungary, she and two other servicepeople parachuted into Yugoslavia.

Though her companions decided to bail on the mission as too dangerous, Chana continued on the journey to Hungary, where she hoped to make an effort to help with rescuing her mother and brother. The parachutists were captured by Hungarian gendarmes (who were in league with the Nazis) and discovered as members of the British armed forces.

Chana was taken to prison and severely tortured for days, but she refused to name names, even when her mother was arrested. The fascist Arrow Cross murdered her on 7 November 1944 after a show trial.

To this day, she’s lauded as a great shero of the Jewish people.

The above four photos show what little of the Jerusalem War Cemetery I was able to see from the outside on my Birthright trip in June 2005. We didn’t go in, but we were sitting a short distance away for a discussion. It’s obviously not a Jewish cemetery, but we have great respect for our sincere friends and allies.

Buried here are British Commonwealth servicemen who were killed during the Sinai and Palestine Campaign of the Middle East Theatre in WWI. Some Germans and Turks are also interred here, as well as a large memorial to 3,300 soldiers with no known graves.

And just to remind people, Syria-Palestina was a name coined by Hadrian in 135 as a humiliating punishment, to try to sever the indigenous Jewish connection to our land. It was revived as the Anglicized “Palestine” by British Christians in the late 19th century. Never was that ever the native Jewish name of our homeland, and Arabs didn’t begin calling themselves that till 1964!

Mount Herzl Cemetery is right next door to Yad Vashem, the Holocaust memorial museum, because they’re so intrinsically linked, just like Yom HaShoah and Yom HaZikaron. Yom HaShoah is a reminder of what happened because we didn’t have Israel as a safe haven, and Yom HaZikaron reminds us of the cost of having autonomy and self-determination in the world’s only majority Jewish country. Freedom is never really free.

I’m a pacifist because of my deeply-held beliefs, but I have the greatest of respect for those who made the ultimate sacrifice. The Arab world has launched so many sneak attack wars against Israel, there’s no choice but to have mandatory conscription. We need a large, strong military able to fight back at a moment’s notice.

In addition to honoring war dead, Yom HaZikaron also remembers victims of terrorist attacks. It makes me so angry to see these woke brats in their little tent cities on college campuses chanting for intifada. They weren’t even alive during the Second Intifada, when over 1,000 Israelis were murdered in suicide bomb attacks in buses, malls, discos, cafés, restaurants, stores, hotels, outdoor markets, bus stations, and streets.

My senior year of university was during the height of the Second Intifada, and it was absolutely terrifying to hear about all these deadly attacks, often multiple times a week. We were warned not to go on any buses during my Birthright trip because that potential danger still existed in June 2005.

Independence Hall in Tel Aviv was originally the home of the city’s first mayor, Meir Dizengoff. On 14 May 1948, David Ben-Gurion proclaimed our reborn independence eight hours before the British were due to finally leave. It’s very moving to listen to the recording of this meeting, which includes Rabbi Yehudah Leib Maimon (né Fishman) saying the Shehecheyanu, a blessing thanking God for preserving our lives and enabling us to reach this joyous occasion.

This building was chosen for declaring independence because it had bomb shelter-like features, such as small windows high up on the walls. Almost as soon as the British left, Egypt starting bombing Israel, and was soon joined by Iraq, Jordan, Syria, Lebanon, Saudi Arabia, and Yemen.

Israel’s Declaration of Independence. The last surviving signatories were Zorach Warhaftig (1906–2002) and Meir Vilner (1918–2003).

The proposed U.N. partition plan of 1947, which would’ve given the Arabs a state in the yellow areas. They rejected this plan and instead launched a genocidal war against us.

We’ve triumphed over our enemies so many times, and stubbornly insist on surviving despite everything. This latest attempt to destroy us won’t succeed either.

The Western Wall (הַכּוֹתֶל הַמַּעֲרָבִי)

The Western Wall, as most people know, is the only remaining part of the Second Temple. It’s in the Temple Mount complex, and also includes Robinson’s Arch and Wilson’s Arch, where non-Orthodox Jews gather for mixed services. The rest of the Western Wall is in the Muslim Quarter. Most is an underground tunnel, but a small portion, the Little Western Wall, is near the Iron Gate of the Temple Mount.

The term “Wailing Wall” is almost exclusively Christian, and only began appearing in the 19th century. Jews don’t use that term. The only other name we call it is the Kotel, which means “wall” in Hebrew.

Though the Kotel is under Orthodox auspices now, with sex-segregated prayer, there was no enforced separation until 1967, when the Six-Day War reunified Jerusalem and recaptured our holy sites from Jordan’s illegal occupation. Photos from the mid-19th century onwards show men and women praying together, which presumably was the custom pre-photography too.

After the Roman destroyed the Second Temple in 70 CE and sent most of us into Diaspora, the Kotel was off-limits. We were forbidden from going there or even living in Jerusalem for centuries. After the Roman Empire turned Christian, we were permitted to go there only on Tisha B’Av to mourn for the loss of the Temple.

In 361, the occupying Byzantines let us live in our own holiest city in our own indigenous homeland again. By 614, the Jewish population had increased to such an extent there was a revolt against the Byzantines, in which we joined forces with the Persians. Sadly, it was put down, and Byzantines carried out a brutal massacre. Survivors fled the city.

We returned after the Islamic conquest of 638, which granted freedom of worship (along with second-class dhimmi status). Many people went to the Kotel to pray, which was noted by writers and diarists of the era. Then the Crusaders came to town in 1099 and massacred most of the Jewish population.

Though high-profile Jews visited the Kotel in the years afterwards (e.g., travel writer Benjamin of Tudela, scholar Maimonides, poet Yehudah HaLevi), only in 1187, under the rule of the renowned Sultan Saladin, were Jews allowed to live in Jerusalem again. However, our numbers remained sparse.

The Ottoman occupation, which began in 1516, placed more restrictions on Jewish residents, such as installing permanent fixtures and putting furniture like tables at the Kotel. On Purim 1625, Jews were forbidden from praying on the Temple Mount. In 1840, paving a pathway to the Kotel was forbidden, as were keeping prayerbooks there and praying too loudly.

The number of worshippers began steadily increasing as more Jews returned from Diaspora and began transforming the deserts and swamps into fertile farms and modern cities. During the centuries of Ottoman rule, Pre-State Israel was by and large a desolate, sparsely-populated wasteland with lots of absentee landowners (despite the ahistorical nonsense spewed by antisemites).

Shamefully, on Yom Kippur 1928, British cops beat women trying to prevent the removal of a mechitza (divider between the sexes), using the broken wood as clubs. Chairs were also yanked from under old people. This disgusting desecration made world news, and no one sided with the British.

The cops defended themselves by saying the mechitza violated pre-existing Ottoman rules, and that the Supreme Muslim Council demanded it be removed. The antisemitic Mufti of Jerusalem, Hajj Amin al-Husseini, who later became buddies with Hitler, got British permission to build new mosques above and next to the Kotel, to assert Arab dominance.

He continued complaining to the British about benches, tables, and lamps being installed, and in the summer of 1929, he created a new opening at the southern end of the alley to the Kotel. Because mules often went through this alley, it was soon littered with feces.

In 1929, a violent wave of pogroms swept the land. One of the many victims was historian and Hebrew literature professor Yosef Klausner, who was trying to formalize the right to Jewish worship at the Kotel and install a mechitza. His house in Jerusalem was also destroyed.

In 1931, blowing shofar by the Kotel was outlawed. Offenders were charged £50 (£2,819.48, or $3,563.02, in 2024), sent to jail for six months, or both. However, many people defiantly blew the shofar at the end of Yom Kippur.

In 1948, during Israel’s War of Independence, Jordan (which was created from 75% of the British Mandate) illegally occupied Judea, Samaria, and the Old City of Jerusalem. All Jews were ethnically cleansed from those places and forbidden to set foot in them. Even Muslim citizens of Israel were forbidden to go there. Many houses of worship and cemeteries were destroyed or fell into disrepair. The graves on the Mount of Olives were used as a staircase.

The colonial term “West Bank” comes from this period of Jordanian occupation. The proper name for that area is Judea and Samaria (Yehudah and Shomron).

After the miraculous victory in the Six-Day War, on 10 June 1967, the Old City was freed from Jordanian occupation, Jerusalem was reunified, and the Kotel was back under Jewish sovereignty. Three days later, the narrow 12th century Moroccan Quarter was razed to widen the alley leading to the Kotel and create the Western Wall Plaza.

The Kotel came under protection in the 1967 Law of the Conservation of Holy Places. All the other newly-liberated religious sites were also protected, repaired, and restored to public access by people of all faiths.

I personally don’t mind the Kotel is under Orthodox auspices, since I’ve grown to prefer praying behind a mechitza. However, I condemn the fanatics who throw rocks, diapers, and chairs at the Women of the Wall.

It’s customary to walk backwards away from the Kotel, since it’s rude to turn one’s back on the Divine Presence.

I’m always overcome with emotion by the Kotel, and feel so humbled. It’s hard to describe the feeling of putting my hands and forehead against it as I offer up the deepest prayers of my heart. I’ve cried against those ancient stones.

Touro Synagogue (בית הכנסת טורו)

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Touro Synagogue, built in Newport, Rhode Island from 1759–63, has earned its place in history alone as the oldest known surviving synagogue in both North America and the U.S. However, in 1790, they locked down even more historical value when Pres. George Washington (one of my distant cousins) sent them a beautiful letter which they now read every year.

In 1760, Rabbi Isaac Touro came to the American Colonies from The Netherlands to serve as cantor and rabbi of the Portuguese Sephardic congregation Jeshuat Israel. At the time, almost all Jews in the Americas were Sephardic, descended from people who fled the Inquisition.

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Though the building was constructed in the 18th century, the congregation itself formed in 1658, when fifteen families came to Newport from the Dutch or British West Indies. In 1677, they bought land for a cemetery.

It took more than a century, but finally they saved up enough money to build a synagogue. Prior, they’d met in private houses. Architect Peter Harrison designed the building; philanthropist Aaron (né Duarte) Lopez laid the cornerstone; and Benjamin Howland painted a mural of the Ten Commandments above the Ark. Generous funding came from New York, London, Jamaica, Suriname, Amsterdam, and Curaçao.

The synagogue was dedicated 2 December 1763, the first night of Chanukah.

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To escape the British occupation during the Revolutionary War, Newport’s thirty Jewish families fled to Massachusetts, Connecticut, and New York. They gave the Torah scrolls and the synagogue’s deed to Congregation Shearith Israel (also Sephardic) in NYC. Touro Synagogue survived destruction because the British used it as a hospital and public assembly hall.

The British left in October 1779, and within the next two years, many evacuees returned and began rebuilding the Jewish community.

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In August 1790, Pres. Washington visited Newport to drum up support for the new Bill of Rights. Moses Mendes Seixas, synagogue president, attended the welcoming ceremonies and wrote him a letter congratulating him on being chosen as the first president, with good wishes for his success. This letter also discussed religious liberties and separation of church and state. Unlike most of the other Thirteen Colonies, Rhode Island had always practised religious tolerance (though Jewish residents nevertheless didn’t have full citizenship rights).

Pres. Washington’s letter of response arrived 21 August, with the famous line “the Government of the United States…gives to bigotry no sanction, to persecution no assistance.”

Because Newport never regained her pre-Revolutionary importance as a seaport and centre of commerce, the economy started on a permanent downward trajectory. By the early 19th century, barely any Jews remained, and the synagogue only opened for funerals, the High Holy Days, summer visitors, and special occasions.

The cemetery, however, remained an active burial ground. Though almost everyone had left the area, they never stopped loving their original synagogue and feeling a sense of connection and responsibility to it. The bodies of former residents were returned to Newport for burial. A brick wall was built around the cemetery in 1820.

The synagogue was also a stop on the Underground Railroad, with a trapdoor on the bima (pulpit). To prevent the building from falling into disrepair, Stephen Gould, a Quaker who’d been good friends with many Newport Jews, served as caretaker.

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In 1881, a new community of Ashkenazic immigrants who’d fled Tsar Aleksandr III’s pogroms petitioned Shearith Israel (trustees of Touro) to reopen the synagogue and appoint a permanent rabbi. Two years later, Rabbi Abraham Pereira Mendes of Jamaica and London arrived to fill the role. He stayed for ten years.

Though the congregation remains predominantly Ashkenazic, they continue to use Sephardic prayerbooks and rites. Once a year, people from Shearith Israel (which still owns Touro) visit to hold services in the full Sephardic style. Today, about 175 families are members.

In 1946, Touro Synagogue was designated a National Historic Site, and in 1966, it joined the National Register of Historic Places. Its antique metal artifacts underwent a full restoration in 2005–06.

Touro Synagogue

Quai Kléber Synagogue (בית הכנסת קוואי קלבר)

The Quai Kléber Synagogue was built from 1895–98 in the Neustadt district of Strasbourg, France (then part of the German Empire), in an impressive Romanesque Revival style designed by architect Ludwig Levy. It was inspired by similar imposing buildings in the Rhine region, esp. the cathedrals of Mainz, Worms, and Speyer.

In German, the shul was known as Synagoge am Kleberstaden and Neue Synagoge. Though Strasbourg was part of Germany till 1918, most of its Jewish community was French. Alsace–Lorraine has a long, complicated history owing to its position at the German–French border.

The city’s first shul was built at 14 Rue Sainte-Hélène in 1834, on the site of the Order of Friars Minor Capuchin’s former convent, but the big increase in Jewish population during the second half of the 19th century called for a much larger building. Plans to build a new shul started in 1889.

Interior of the original shul

The construction cost about 750,000–800,000 marks ($7,054,065.57–$7,524,336.79 in 2024). Structural work wrapped up in November 1897, followed by work on interior design. It was consecrated and opened to the public on 8 September 1898, with 1,639 seats (825 in the men’s section, 654 in the ladies’ gallery, 100 in the oratory, 40 for choristers around the Ark).

Like the original shul, the new one too had an organ, made by Walcker Orgelbau. In 1925, it had to be replaced once more, since it was falling apart. The third organ, made by Edmond-Alexandre Roethinger, had 62 stops, three keyboards with 56 keys each, and a pedal board with 32 steps.

To mark the inauguration of the third organ, there was a concert on 25 August 1925, featuring Émile Rupp (the shul’s organist since 1914) and other musicians from Paris and Strasbourg. It was Monsieur Rupp who suggested the second organ needed replacing in 1923.

The façade was built of pink and grey Vosges sandstone from Phalsbourg quarries. The stained-glass windows (including rose windows) were created by architect and glass painter Alexander Linnemann.

Disaster struck when the Nazis invaded and occupied Alsace in 1940. The shul was looted, and a fire was lit on 12 September. It was entirely burnt to the ground on the night of 30 September–1 October, and the ruins were dynamited in October 1941.

Typically, the Nazis blamed the Jewish community for their own evil acts, despite the fact that they’d already evacuated or been kicked out of the city in September 1939. Since they weren’t allowed to return to Strasbourg, the looted items in the surrounding buildings were auctioned off or stolen.

Nothing of the last organ is known to exist, but parts of the 1914 organ were put into the organ of Mauritius Church in 1942.

Survivors who returned to Strasbourg after the war met at Palais des Fêtes on Rue Sellénick, a performance hall which had been used as Gestapo HQ and had since been converted into an ORT school. ORT (Organisation for Rehabilitation through Training) is a worldwide Jewish educational network founded in 1880 in St. Petersburg.

From 1948–58, they set up shop in a temporary shul at a former arsenal on Place Broglie (now a military chaplaincy’s chapel). A new shul was constructed on land in Contades Park, exchanged for land along Quai Kléber in 1952.

The Great Synagogue of Peace was consecrated on 23 May 1958, with 1,658 seats.

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In the spring of 2013, a stone handwashing basin from the Quai Kléber Synagogue was discovered in a Strasbourg garden, where it had been for decades. It was given to the Jewish community, who placed it in the Cronenbourg cemetery.

The remains of a stone lion sculpture, signed by the artist, has been safeguarded by the Consistoire Israélite du Bas–Rhin for many years.

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A memorial was created on 3 October 1976, and a larger plaque was placed on 24 November 1994, the fiftieth anniversary of the city’s liberation. Then-Prime Minister Édouard Balladur attended the ceremony.

In 2012, the memorial expanded to include a newly-created alley to the Righteous Among the Nations (Allée des Justes-parmi-les-Nations). A car accident in 2019 damaged the memorial plaque, which has since been repaired.

In 2024, plans for a memorial garden were announced. It’s scheduled to be inaugurated in 2025.

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Óbuda Synagogue (בית הכנסת של אובודה, Óbudai Zsinagóga)

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The Óbuda Synagogue, which appears in my currently still hiatused WIP The Strongest Branches of Uprooted Trees, was built from 1820–21, when the then-town of Óbuda had Hungary’s biggest Jewish community. At the time, Jews were forbidden to live in Buda. (In 1873, Buda, Óbuda, and Pest united to become the beautiful city of Budapest.)

The Óbuda Jewish community dates back to at least 1349. By the 15th century, it had grown substantially, but the city was wiped out by the Ottomans after the 1526 Battle of Mohács. There was no more record of Jewish population until the 1712 census, which listed 24 families and 88 people, mostly Moravian immigrants.

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They were under the protection of Count Péter Zichy, whose private lands included Óbuda. Because they always paid the mandated protective tax on time and in full, they were able to live in peace, without harassment by authorities, and were granted their own courts of law, the right to buy land and start business, kosher meat and wine.

Their first synagogue was built in 1737 and outgrown in 1746, after which Countess Zsuzsanna Zichy ordered it expanded. The next shul was designed in Baroque style from 1767–69, built by Máté Nöpauer. Unfortunately, the walls cracked on account of a bad foundation and poor soil.

The Buda Building Committee enlisted experts in 1817 to discern if a new shul should be built to replace the existing one. They decided to rebuild it with mostly the same walls.

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Architect András Landherr was put in charge of the project, which lasted a year and a half. The shul got a new southern façade, 662 seats (364 for men and 298 in the ladies’ gallery), a vestibule with six Corinthian columns, and a new roof structure. Ferenc Goldringer served as carpenter, and János Maurer did the stucco.

Under the tympanum (decorative triangular portion above the columns) is the Hebrew quote “Every prayer, every supplication, that comes from any man…and stretches out his hands towards this house” (1 Kings 8:38).

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The synagogue was consecrated on 20 July 1821, with great fanfare. It was one of the most beautiful, magnificent, awe-inspiring European buildings of the era. Even Archduke Joseph of Austria (Palatine of Hungary) frequently brought foreign guests there to show it off.

The Pest Flood of March 1838 damaged the building, and congregants had to row into it in boats to save the Torah scrolls. At its height, there were 28 scrolls.

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In 1900, architect Gyula Ullmann renovated the shul with Art Nouveau elements complementing its original French Empire style. Electric lights were also added.

During WWI, the government requisitioned the copper roof to be melted down into ammunition. Many other houses of worship in Austria–Hungary also had their roofs, bells, gutters and other metal components taken for war machinery. Some churches’ crucifixes were even melted down.

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At the time of its 1821 reconstruction, the synagogue was Orthodox, but after the death of Rabbi Moses Münz in 1831, they joined the uniquely Hungarian denomination Neology, which is comparable to liberal Modern Orthodox or very, very old-school Conservative.

The congregation gradually shrank during the late 19th and early 20th centuries as more and more people moved to the Pest side of Budapest, which was the centre of Hungarian Jewish life in that era.

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There were an estimated 3,600 members in the spring of 1944, when the Nazis invaded and occupied Hungary. This represented a 40% decrease from 1929. Though Budapest was relatively safer than the countryside in that there were no deportations to Auschwitz, there were still two ghettoes in the city where people were forced to live. Living conditions were also extremely rough, and many Budapestis were shot into the Danube by the fascist Arrow Cross.

About 3,000 Jews on the Óbuda side of the city perished. The shul was also damaged. Rabbi József Neumann survived and stayed with his community until retiring at age eighty in 1956, though his first wife, Katalin Bick, was murdered in 1944.

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Though the building was repaired from 1946–47, its religious school was forced by the Soviets to close in 1948. The next year, the Óbuda Jewish community lost its independence and had to merge with the greater Budapest religious community.

Because of dwindling attendance under Soviet repression, immigration to other countries, and the devastating membership loss of the Shoah, Óbuda Synagogue was sold in the mid-Sixties and turned into a TV station. However, it gained protection as a national monument in 1957, so there was never any real danger of it being torn down.

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In 2010, the synagogue was renovated and reconsecrated. On 8 September, Rosh Hashanah, the doors opened to the public and regular worship resumed under Rabbi Slomó (né Máté) Köves, one of Hungary’s leading contemporary rabbis. He strives to build a positive Jewish identity and community based on our religious heritage and culture, instead of a negative identity based primarily on the Shoah.

Today Óbuda Synagogue once more has a thriving congregation, despite the worrying growth of antisemitism in modern Hungary.