Violins of Hope

November 21st, 2025

There is an exhibit currently on display at the Jewish Museum Milwaukee called “Violins of Hope”. The primary focus of the exhibit is on Jewish music and how it flourished prior to the Nazi era, and then how it survived the Holocaust and was revived after WWII. An array of violins from the war years are set up in the museum, and each instrument has its own story. There is also an emphasis on how Jewish music was influenced by the peoples among whom Jews lived. For instance, there is one display that compares Smetana’s “Vltava/the Moldau” with “Hatikvah “, the Israeli national anthem. Both are apparently derived from a Czech folk song. I believe that the event is meant to uplifting and inspiring. However, it is more than that, much more than that.

Now for a disclaimer. I am not a Jew. I need to make that clear up front before I write any more about the show. I have close friends who are Jewish, and I have a strong interest and affinity for Judaism. However, I necessarily look at things as an outsider. I do not claim to understand how the exhibit might affect my Jewish acquaintances. They view the display through a different lens than the one I use. Each person who goes to this event brings along a specific set of experiences, and what they see and hear will have a unique impact. I can only describe what I thought and felt when I walked through the exhibit.

On the surface, the exhibit tells the story of Moshe Weinstein, a Jew who fled Poland in 1938 to go to Tel Aviv in what was then the British protectorate of Palestine. Moshe was a violinist and a luthier (a maker and restorer of violins). Over many years, Moshe and his family have gathered and restored an enormous number of violins that had been played by Jewish musicians. Some of the musicians died in concentration camps. Some migrated to Palestine after the war and sold their violins to Moshe because they could not stand to play on an instrument made by the Germans. The violins came to Moshe from all over the world. Now, a number of the instruments are at the Jewish museum for all to see.

A friend of ours who is a docent at the museum offered to give us free tour of the new exhibit. Karin and I, along with two other friends, went on the tour. Karin was initially hesitant about going to the museum. Karin is from Germany. Her father fought in WWII on the German side. He was a member of the Luftwaffe. He survived the war but was severely wounded. Karin told me about her feelings when I suggested that we see the display. Our little grandson, Asher, overheard our conversation. Asher asked his Oma why she wasn’t sure about going to see the show.

Asher said, “Why don’t you want to go?”

Karin replied, “I might feel sad.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m a German, and a long time ago the Germans did bad things to the Jews.”

“What kind of bad things?”

“Really bad things.”

How do you explain the Holocaust to a boy is not quite five years old? How do explain it to anybody?

Karin walked through the exhibit carrying her own family history with her. I am not sure what she felt. In the end, she found the visit to be worthwhile.

The exhibit tries to explain what happened during the Shoah, and it was for me overwhelming. In the portion of the exhibit concerning Moshe Weinstein, there is a written comment that 90% of the Jews living in Poland before the war died at the hands of the Nazis. There were over three million Jews in Poland in 1930. The number of people murdered is incomprehensible. There was no way for me to wrap my head around it. There still isn’t.

One of the themes in the show is “resistance and resilience”. That conjures up a number of questions. How does a person resist overwhelming, life-threatening oppression? Resilience implies survival. What is necessary for a person to survive? Jewish musicians in Auschwitz played for the SS officers, and got slightly more favorable living conditions than their fellow prisoners. Was it right for the musicians to do that? I don’t know. I can’t know.

I have friends who are Palestinian or are sympathetic to the Palestinian cause. How would they react to the show? Would they even set foot into the museum? There are things in the exhibit that would clearly trigger somebody who finds the existence of Israel to be abhorrent. The national anthem of Israel is played at the exhibit. There is a quote on a wall from Theodor Herzl, the founder of Zionism. There is an emphasis on the migration of Jews to Palestine, without any mention of the displacement of the local inhabitants. My friends would probably dismiss the presentation as propaganda, and from their perspective they would be right. All history is propaganda to some extent, but that doesn’t mean that it is a lie.

Who should go to the exhibit? Anybody who is willing to open their mind and their heart should go. Parts of the show are inspiring. Parts are intensely disturbing. Every display has emotional dynamite hidden within it.

Nobody leaves that museum unchanged.