Practicing Judaism or celebrating any Jewish holiday was strictly forbidden by the Nazis. Yet despite the danger, Jews did everything they could to preserve their traditions and mark the holidays, even under the harshest and most perilous conditions.
“We knew it was Yom Kippur because Mengele carried out another one of his selections — always deliberately on the holidays. In truth, every day in Auschwitz was like Yom Kippur — there was no food! And yet, I fasted on Yom Kippur. In the evening, I received my bread ration, broke it into pieces, ate just a little, and put the rest in my pocket. I cannot explain how much I wanted to reach into my pocket and eat it, but I didn’t. I managed to hold out until the end of the fast. I was 11 years old. I remember the adults praying in the barrack. These are my memories of Yom Kippur in Auschwitz.”
Arnold Cleves was born in 1933 in Lithuania. When the Germans invaded in 1941, his family was captured by Lithuanian soldiers and transported to the infamous Ninth Fort prison. They were released and sent to the Kovno Ghetto. Later, the family was sent to a labor camp and separated. Arnold and his father were sent to Birkenau. Toward the end of the war, Arnold was forced on a death march; he was separated from his father and sent to Dachau, where he was liberated by the Americans. After liberation, he was reunited with his mother and sister. Arnold worked as a dentist in the United States for 54 years. In 2020, after the death of his wife, Batya, he immigrated to Israel and settled in Jerusalem, reuniting with his son and daughter, who had immigrated many years earlier. Arnold has two children and four grandchildren. He participated in the 2025 March of the Living.
Kol Nidre in Auschwitz
"On the Eve of Yom Kippur, some of the older women in our barrack asked two specific Kapos for permission to do something for Kol Nidre. They were simply amazed that anyone still wanted to pray in the hell- hole called Auschwitz – Birkenau: “You crazy Hungarian Jews” she exclaimed. “You still believe in this? You still want to do this and here?” Well, we did.
We asked for and received, one candle and one siddur. We were about 800 women jam-packed in one barrack. They all came: the believers, the atheists, the agnostics, women of all descriptions and of every background. We were all there.
The two Kapos gave us only ten minutes and they were guarding the two entrances to the barrack to watch out for any SS guard who might happen to come around unexpectedly.
Then, someone lit this lone candle, and a hush fell over the barrack. I can still see this scene: the woman, sitting with the lit candle, started to read the Kol Nidre passage in the siddur. Incredibly, all of this happened in a place where, we felt, it was appropriate that instead of we asking forgiveness from God, God should be asking for forgiveness from us.
And yet, we all wanted to gather around the woman with the lit candle and siddur. She recited the Kol Nidre very slowly, so that we could repeat the words if we so desired. But we didn't. Instead, the women burst out in a cry—in unison.
Our prayer was the sound of this incredible cry of 800 women. It seemed to give us solace. Remembering Yom Kippur was somehow a reminder of our homes, and families because this was one Holy Day that was observed even in the most assimilated homes.
Something happened to these 800 women. It was almost as if our hearts burst. I never heard either before or since then such a heart rendering sound.
Even though no one really believed the prayer would change our situation, that God would suddenly intervene—we weren’t that naïve—but the opportunity to cry and remember together helped us feel better. It reminded us of our former, normal lives; alleviated our utter misery, even for a littlest while, in some inexplicable way.
Watch Judy’s testimony to March of the Living’s Canadian student delegation at the Temple Synagogue in Krakow, Poland: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GT4DDUauu-s
Even today, many decades later, every time I go to Kol Nidre services, I can't shake it. That is the Kol Nidre I always remember".
Judy Weissenberg Cohen was born in Debrecen, Hungary, in 1928. In June 1944, Judy and her family were deported to Auschwitz-Birkenau, there she and her sisters were separated from their mother. Although Judy survived several camps and a death march, her parents, four siblings and most of her extended family were murdered. After being liberated by the US army in 1945, Judy spent two years at the Bergen-Belsen Displaced Persons Camp, along with two siblings. In 1948, Judy immigrated to Canada, where she met and married Sidney Jessel Cohen and together they had two children. After a personal encounter with a neo-Nazi Holocaust-denying group in 1993, Judy became an activist in Holocaust education and anti-racism. Judy joined the Canadian delegation to the March of the Living. She is the originator and Chair of The Holocaust Centre’s permanent exhibit “We Who Survived,” Judy is also the creator of the website “Women and The Holocaust.”