15/04/2026
A TORAH SCROLL IN THE CZECH REPLUBIC PARLIAMENT
On Yom HaShoah in Prague, a rescued Torah scroll and a survivor’s song bring the past into the heart of the state.
Some historical objects survive destruction. Very few return to the center of public life.
On Yom HaShoah in Prague, a unique commemorative event took place under the patronage of Patrik Nacher, First Vice-Chairman of the Chamber of Deputies of the Czech Republic. The occasion marked the permanent installation of a remarkable historical artifact within the Parliament of the Czech Republic.
At first glance, the event may appear to be a symbolic gesture of remembrance. Yet to understand its deeper meaning, one must look into a lesser-known historical background.
Collection of Jewish Artefacts in N**i-Occupied Prague
It is well known that a significant number of synagogues in the territory of the former Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia physically survived the Second World War, with the exception of those destroyed during Kristallnacht in the Sudetenland. Less widely recognized, however, is the fact that much of their original ritual equipment also endured. None of the more than ten Jewish temples in Prague were demolished during the war; they survived the occupation, though stripped of their original communal life.
During the N**i occupation, staff of the Jewish Museum in Prague, together with members of Jewish communities, became increasingly concerned about the fate of religious and historical objects from synagogues that could no longer function, as communities were being systematically dissolved. From May 1942, under the authority of SS officer Karl Rahm, these items began to be transported to collection points in Prague and, in some cases, to the Terezín ghetto.
Operating under strict N**i supervision, clerks of Prague’s Jewish Museum were permitted to gather what was referred to as the “abandoned property of Jewish communities” from more than 150 communities across the Czech lands. These objects were brought to Prague, where they were concentrated and catalogued.
This process has often been associated with the widely circulated notion that the N***s intended to establish a so-called “museum of an extinct race.” However, this interpretation remains difficult to verify, as the archival evidence regarding the intentions behind this project is limited. What can be stated with certainty is that, as a result of this process—despite the conditions of coercion—an extraordinary collection was preserved. In total, over 200,000 Judaica and religious objects were assembled, including more than 1,500 Torah scrolls removed from synagogues whose communities were ultimately destroyed.
As written by Batel Institute & Terezin Tours:
Some historical objects survive destruction. Very few return to the center of public life.
On Yom HaShoah in Prague, a unique commemorative event took place under the patronage of Patrik Nacher, First Vice-Chairman of the Chamber of Deputies of the Czech Republic. The occasion marked the permanent installation of a remarkable historical artifact within the Parliament of the Czech Republic.
At first glance, the event may appear to be a symbolic gesture of remembrance. Yet to understand its deeper meaning, one must look into a lesser-known historical background.
One of the 1,564 preserved Torah scrolls, installed in Parliament on Yom HaShoah. This scroll is pasul (not kosher) and not used for ritual purposes.
Collection of Jewish Artefacts in N**i-Occupied Prague
It is well known that a significant number of synagogues in the territory of the former Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia physically survived the Second World War, with the exception of those destroyed during Kristallnacht in the Sudetenland. Less widely recognized, however, is the fact that much of their original ritual equipment also endured. None of the more than ten Jewish temples in Prague were demolished during the war; they survived the occupation, though stripped of their original communal life.
During the N**i occupation, staff of the Jewish Museum in Prague, together with members of Jewish communities, became increasingly concerned about the fate of religious and historical objects from synagogues that could no longer function, as communities were being systematically dissolved. From May 1942, under the authority of SS officer Karl Rahm, these items began to be transported to collection points in Prague and, in some cases, to the Terezín ghetto.
Operating under strict N**i supervision, clerks of Prague’s Jewish Museum were permitted to gather what was referred to as the “abandoned property of Jewish communities” from more than 150 communities across the Czech lands. These objects were brought to Prague, where they were concentrated and catalogued.
This process has often been associated with the widely circulated notion that the N***s intended to establish a so-called “museum of an extinct race.” However, this interpretation remains difficult to verify, as the archival evidence regarding the intentions behind this project is limited. What can be stated with certainty is that, as a result of this process—despite the conditions of coercion—an extraordinary collection was preserved. In total, over 200,000 Judaica and religious objects were assembled, including more than 1,500 Torah scrolls removed from synagogues whose communities were ultimately destroyed.
The Fate of 1564 Torah Scrolls
The end of the war did not resolve the fate of these objects. Jewish life in Czechoslovakia, though partially reconstituted, soon faced new challenges under the communist regime. Many synagogues remained empty, and the collected artifacts could not be returned, as the communities to which they had belonged no longer existed.
At the same time, as emphasized by Andrew Keene, accounts from Jewish Museum employees working with the collection during the communist period suggest that, within the constraints imposed on them, they made sustained efforts to care for and preserve these objects.
In the early 1960s, a British initiative brought international attention to the Torah scrolls preserved in Prague. In 1964, following negotiations, the Communist government sold approximately 1,500 scrolls to a British philanthropist, Ralph Yablon z"l who subsequently donated them to the Westminster Synagogue, where they were placed under the care of what would become the Memorial Scrolls Trust.
From that point onward, the scrolls entered a new phase of existence. Under the stewardship of the Trust, they were gradually distributed—on permanent loan—to Jewish congregations around the world. The guiding principle was clear: these were not objects for private ownership, but for communal use, remembrance, and education. Some scrolls were restored and returned to liturgical use, while others—too damaged to be used—serve today primarily educational and commemorative purposes, bearing witness to the communities from which they originated.
A Return to the Center of Public Life
Against this historical background, the installation of one such scroll in the Czech Parliament on Yom HaShoah 2026 acquires particular significance. The initiative, led by Rabbi David Maxa in cooperation with the Memorial Scrolls Trustand its chairman Jeffrey Ohrenstein, and co-organized with Vice-Chair Andrew Keene, represents not merely a commemorative act, but a symbolic return of an object that endured destruction.
During the ceremony, Patrik Nacher noted that only two parliamentary institutions in the world host a Torah scroll: the Israeli Knesset and the Czech Parliament. He further emphasized that the Czech state values its Jewish community.
At the same time, the presence of the scroll invites reflection on the contemporary position of Jewish communities. As emphasized by Petr Papoušek, in a European context marked by a rise in antisemitism, Jewish communities are under increasing pressure. In this light, the relatively safe position of Jews in the Czech Republic is not taken for granted, but rather understood as something rare and valuable, even as the broader public climate may be shifting.
The presence of the scroll in Parliament is not only an act of remembrance, but a statement about what a society chooses to carry forward into its political and moral framework.
Survivor’s Song of Hope
Yet perhaps the most profound moment of the ceremony emerged not from institutional statements, but from personal testimony.
Michaela Vidláková, one of the last surviving children of the Terezín ghetto, concluded the event by singing a song from her heim—the children’s living quarters in Terezín. The song, centered on endurance, friendship, and hope, was originally sung alongside her closest friend, who stood beside her, holding her hand. It was meant to encourage the children to endure the difficult conditions through a spirit of unity.
That friend did not survive.
On Yom HaShoah, her performance transformed the ceremony from an act of institutional remembrance into an intimate act of continuity. As she has expressed, this day belongs, in part, to those who cannot speak for themselves. The song thus becomes not only a recollection of the past, but a living bridge between absence and presence.
In this context, the Torah scroll assumes a dual role. It is both a preserved artifact—one that survived processes of destruction, displacement, and redistribution—and a symbolic presence within contemporary public space. Its placement in the Czech Parliament suggests a deliberate effort to integrate Jewish historical experience into the narrative of the modern state.
Such acts raise broader questions. What does it mean to embed the material traces of a destroyed community within the institutional structures of political life? How does the presence of such an object reshape the ways in which history is remembered and interpreted?
Perhaps the most important message emerging from the event is that antisemitism is not only a threat to Jewish communities, but a warning sign for society as a whole. Where antisemitism takes root, it often reflects deeper structural and moral weaknesses that extend far beyond a single minority.
The installation of the scroll does not resolve these questions. It does, however, create a space in which they can be asked.
On Yom HaShoah in Prague, that space was not abstract—it was present in an object, in spoken memory, and in a song that still carries forward.
The installation was made possible through the generous support of David and Susan Boyer, in memory of their Czech ancestors and family members who perished during the Holocaust, and with the support of the Chancellor of Parliament and the Parliamentary chaplains.
Courtesy: Yvonne Batel Penkavova
Founder of Bat-El Institute for Jewish
https://batelinstitute.substack.com/p/a-torah-scroll-in-the-czech-parliament?triedRedirect=true
