Holocaust Violins On Display At Nashville Library

NASHVILLE, TN -- They survived concentration camps, forced migration, the ghettos of Eastern Europe.

For decades, they laid forgotten in attics or remembered, but hidden away, as they evoked the memories of the ultimate manifestation of evil of the most virulent strain of dehumanizing nihilism mankind has ever seen.

Others were held tight by survivors, keepsakes of families torn asunder by an unimaginable horror.

They are the Violins of Hope, a collection of 26 instruments played by Jewish victims of the Holocaust. Carefully restored by a pair of Israeli luthiers, they will be on display at the downtown branch of the Nashville Public Library from March 26 through May 27, except for April 9 through 14, when they will be in Birmingham as part of a special performance.

Music is an integral part of Jewish culture and in Eastern Europe, the violin was the keystone of that music. In a short story, author I.L. Peretz wrote that one could tell how many boys were in a Jewish family by counting the number of violins hanging on the wall.

Father and son Amnon and Avshalom Weinstein spent decades collecting and restoring the instruments, which now tour the world for display and performance.

Some are beautiful - artfully decorated with Stars of David and mother of pearl. Some are, as one might expect, in far worse condition. In particular is a violin that came to the shop lacking varnish, amateur repairs made with glue and nails. The luthiers speculated it was played - and repaired - in the camps. This violin the Weinsteins left as-is as a visual reminder of both the horrors of the Holocaust and the struggle for humanity and survival of its victims.

Perhaps the most evocative of all the violins is one that was never meant to make music. Beggars in Eastern Europe would often carry these false violins, singing the sounds rather than bowing the strings. It was discovered by a man named Moshe Amiran while he was living in Chile in the 1970s, who tells this story.

“I met a man who survived the war and found shelter in Chile. He was about 60 years old, spoke a broken Spanish typical to immigrants from Eastern Europe, and seemed rather lonely and poor. One day, he asked me to buy his old violin. I visited his home, where he showed me the number tattooed on his arm. The man told me that the violin had belonged to his grandfather, who gave it to him and swore him to keep it, no matter what. In all his travels and troubles, he never parted with the instrument.

“In 1942, the man was sent to a labor camp and then to Auschwitz-Birkenau, which he somehow survived with his violin. I paid him for his violin, feeling that I was doing a mitzvah. As time went by, I put the violin away and forgot all about it. Three years later, I returned to Israel and discovered the violin inside one of my many crates. For a moment, I felt that the violin was following me so that one day it could tell its sad history.

“Many years later, when my grandchildren grew up, I remembered the violin lying in the attic and decided to bring it to Amnon Weinstein in Tel Aviv. The rest is history, you may say. This violin does not play, but allows me to be poetic and sentimental and say that its silence is powerful, its silent strings touch hearts, and it is an authentic tombstone to many unknown and nameless violinists who died lonely and forgotten.”

The exhibit is a center piece of two months of events and concerts throughout the city, which will include performances of music composed by victims of the Holocaust by ensembles across the city.

The exhibit at the library is free and always available during operating hours.

Photo by Oli Scarff/Getty Images)