Museum Collections – for War, and for Hope

Celebrating, citing holidays, during painful times, for me, involves repeating annual traditions and commandments. On the first evening of Passover, we read the Haggadah at the seder. As with many traditional texts, adaptations evolve, some personal to families. An acquaintance told me her family always read names of concentration camps instead of the names of each of the 10 plagues at the time when that is traditionally done as you dip your finger into the wine 10 times, dripping a drop for each plague on a plate or napkin.

Last year, I bought a set of Haggadot published by the Families of the Hostages with inserts relating to the circumstances. One of my granddaughters asked to have one. She was six years-old then and I agreed. This year, the Families of the Hostages published another Haggadah. I asked the now seven-year-old if she wanted another one. She eagerly confirmed. When I gave her this year’s Haggadah for her budding collection, she asked about another one next year. I told her I hoped that next year, Hostages’ Families would not be publishing a Haggadah. I promised I would be happy to buy her another Haggadah from another organization.

At the seder, we chatted with Haim’s son-in-law’s mother, small talk about society and politics in a shared sentiment of despair coupled with determination for renewal of the kind of Israeli society we would like to see, resonating with shared values of peace, mutual responsibility, equality, democracy. She mentioned her sadness over 59 hostages, 24 still alive, still in Gaza, and the incomprehensible failure of the government to act to ensure their immediate return amidst its calculations and strategies. Haim told her that I just cry over the situation.

One evening during the week, listening to a hostage’s mother interviewed on television, I made the overstated remark, “How can parents go on?” Haim responded unhesitatingly, even toned, “These are difficult times.” He reminded me, less expressive than me though he is, these are difficult times, for everybody.

Constant interviews with hostage’s family members, each sharing pain, experiencing and expressing it differently. We did things during the week, as if life as usual, and since October 7, 2023, this is life as usual. One morning at 6:30 AM, another air raid siren as Israel intercepted the missile launched by the Houthis from Yemen. Reviewing my thoughts sadly reconfirmed on Trump and Netanyahu, and knowing I have nothing wiser than others to say about them. Concerned. During the week of Passover, it is traditional to say “moadim l’simcha,” a greeting for “times of joy.”

This greeting is used on weekdays, between the first and last day of the holiday, when “chag sameach,” – “happy holiday” is said. Saying “moadim l’simcha” strikes me as part of an excusable tradition. Then I thought of variation felt comfortable for me, “moadim l’tikva” – times for hope.

A visit this week to the Land of Israel Museum in Ramat Aviv, added to my hope. More than the exhibit we went to see, we enjoyed the museum’s vast grounds and absorbed some sunshine. We went to see a photo exhibit of traditional Jewish wedding and ceremonial dress in different communities around the world in recent past centuries, that also included Palestinian ceremonial dress from Bethlehem, Hebron, and Jerusalem. Creative use of costumes from the museum collection reminded me we’re amidst a war. Last year, visiting the Israel Museum in Jerusalem, it was explained: exhibits use items from the museum storage rooms. With threats of attacks from Iran and cancelled flights from around the world, insurance companies were not insuring art exhibits touring the world to come to Israel, nor temporary loans of work for unique exhibits.

We entered a recently renovated pavilion at the museum in Ramat Aviv. On a plaque at the entrance, it mentioned Sheikh Munis, the pre-1948 Palestinian Arab village upon which Tel Aviv University and the Land of Israel Museum were built. Information that escapes most Israelis. Maybe this causes them to inquire. Two conflicting narratives, an evolving story, Nakhba, establishment of the State of Israel and the Ramat Aviv section of Tel Aviv. An evolving story of how we can hold to our narrative and recognize the narrative of the other, in order to find a way to live on this land, in Israel, together, in equality, with democracy. It’s part of how we can live with Palestinian neighbors in the West Bank and Gaza, and it’s how we can make our days, times of hope – times of hope for times of joy – in which, following Jewish tradition we will recall complexity, remembering times of destruction.

Harriet Gimpel, April 19, 2025