Yamim Noraim

As the Nazis and their collaborators attempted to eradicate the entire Jewish population of Europe, the world primarily stood by and observed in silence. It is estimated that the Nazis established at least 44,000 camps, including ghettos and other sites of incarceration, between 1933 and 1945.

There is no existing data on exactly how many followers of the Jewish faith have been targets of hatred and violence throughout our 4000-year history. The Holocaust is merely one moment in the recurrent loathing of the Jewish people. Yet, we continue to resist and exist. Dr. Jacob Beutel, a Holocaust survivor who settled in Delaware, was six years old and living in Vienna, Austria when World War II began in 1939. In 1940, he was forced onto a train (cattle car) with his parents and taken to a labor camp near Czernowitz, Transnistria. He remained there until he was liberated by the Russians in March
of 1944.

On Sundays, when the SS officers had their day off, adult prisoners would sneak into the barracks where children stayed. That is when Dr. Beutel received his education. “On Sunday, [Jewish adult prisoners] would teach me how to read and write with scraps of paper; sometimes someone would bring a stolen pencil—a book was unheard of. I learned how to read and write and the Jewish bible stories. I learned the Shema and celebrated some of the Jewish holidays. If we got caught, we would all be beaten or killed by the SS guards.”

Knowing that observance of Jewish holidays was forbidden and punishable by torture or death, Jewish prisoners found ways to observe High Holy Days and other holidays, demonstrating extraordinary acts of faith and spiritual resistance.

This menorah was designed in 1942 by Arnold Zadikow, a prisoner in Theresienstadt. Leopold Hecht, another prisoner and master wood carver, covertly obtained wood and carved out Zadikow’s design. The menorah was hidden during the year but was stealthily used in an underground room on Hanukkah. One of its purposes was to teach the children in the camp about Hanukkah. Photo Credit: Yad Vashem

In Theresienstadt, in the fortress town of Terezín in German-occupied Czechoslovakia, the camp’s prisoners found ways to celebrate Hanukkah. In late 1942, one prisoner, Leopold Hecht, risked his life and stole a large block of wood. He carved an ornate menorah, with nine candle holders, a Star of David, and a Hebrew inscription curved over the top: “Who is like you, O Lord, among the celestials?”

In Westerbork, a transit camp in Holland, in the early 1940s, a group of young people lit Hanukkah candles. This was a powerful reminder of resilience of Jewish people during the Holocaust. After arriving at Westerbork in late 1943, one family gathered recycled battery parts to make a menorah out of wood and aluminum foil. They used cotton and grease as candles.

For prisoners already suffering from severe malnutrition and starvation, deciding to fast during Yom Kippur was a profound spiritual act of defiance and a means to preserve their dignity and faith. For some, surviving also meant eating the scanty rations provided in the camps and prioritizing life rather than strict religious observance.

Religious observance, which varied among individuals and within different camps, was accomplished with great secrecy. The portrayals of those who valiantly kept their faith were astounding.

On September 15, 1944, Rabbi Naftali Stern, a Hungarian Jewish inmate of the Wolfsberg forced-labor camp in Austria, finished writing out the Rosh Ha’Shanah service. He wrote it out from memory, writing with a pencil stub on scraps torn from bags of cement he had purchased with bread rations. Rabbi Stern had been a cantor in the city of Szatmar and wanted to lead a service in the camp.

“We prayed on Rosh Ha’Shanah and the service was lovely, the service was good—to the extent that one can say that. But on Yom Kippur we were unable to pray; the Germans were ready for it. On Rosh Ha’Shanah they tolerated it; and I received a larger portion of soup in the afternoon, which was worth something, and I prayed.”

On Rosh Ha’Shanah 1944, a shofar was secretly sounded during a clandestine prayer gathering at Auschwitz-Buna. 

Handwritten Haggadah from an inmate at Gurs Concentration camp in France, prior to celebrating Passover.
Photo Credit: Yad Vashem

Rabbi Leo Baeck, one of the leaders of the German Jewish community, was arrested twice by the Nazis for his attempts to defend the rights of the Jewish people. Finally, he was deported to the Terezin Ghetto near Prague in 1943 and eventually to Theresienstadt concentration camp.

In a hidden bunker beneath a trapdoor, Rabbi Baeck celebrated Purim in the traditional manner by reading from the scroll, or megillah, of Esther. This biblical text tells the story of the courageous and beautiful Queen Esther, who persuaded Ahasuerus, a king of ancient Persia, to reverse his genocidal minister Haman’s plan to annihilate the Jews of his kingdom. The megillah’s story of the ultimate rescue of the Jews of ancient Persia was a message the inmates suffering under the Nazis could translate into their own terms.

In the Dachau concentration camp observing Yom Kippur was nearly impossible. Prisoners were constantly confronted with severe deprivation, including starvation, beatings, and threats of death. Many individuals would whisper prayers and recite the Vidui (confessional prayers) in their barracks wooden bunks at night.

In many ways, continuing to practice was the ultimate form of resistance for imprisoned Jews. In the face of even the greatest persecution, they held fast to their beliefs and traditions, often at further personal risk. These stories represent acts of great courage which still resonate with us today.