Were she alive today, you might see her walking on the street, perhaps in Jerusalem or Tel Aviv. She would likely walk with the aid of a cane, and if she were with a friend or child, or grandchild, she would hold on firmly but tenderly to her companion’s elbow. Despite the vigour of her youth and the erect dancer’s posture that identified her distinctive silhouette against the blue and gold Mediterranean shoreline of Kibbutz Sdot Yam where she lived for a while as a young woman, her gait today would be slow and her back slightly sloped from the weariness of 93 years. But her widely set, large dark eyes might still shine. And her smile would still suggest her warm, caring, positive nature.
But she is not alive today. Alas.
Hanna Senesh was murdered 70 years ago on Nov. 7, 1944. She was only 23 years old, charged with espionage, tried, convicted, sentenced and executed in Budapest by a kangaroo court of Arrow Cross Nazi sympathizers.
Most Israeli schoolchildren know Hannah’s story. The details of her life and – it must be said – of her death too, are taught in the curriculum dealing with the Shoah. She is regarded as a national hero. Outside Israel, however, fewer Jewish children are familiar with her name.
Thus, it is important on the eve of the 70th anniversary of her death that we say her name, recall that she once existed and teach some of the remarkably powerful lessons she imparted to the world during her short life.
In 1939, Hannah left her native Hungary after finishing high school, and moved to Mandatory Palestine to study at a girl’s agricultural school in Nahalal. She came alone; her mother and brother remained in Budapest. After Nahalal, Hannah moved to Sdot Yam.
In 1943, the 22-year-old agricultural specialist joined the clandestine fighting forces of the as-yet-to-be-born Jewish state. She volunteered to parachute be-hind Nazi lines in Europe to help rescue fellow Jews. In March of 1944, she and several other Jewish Palestinian volunteers were dropped into Yugoslavia. Three months later, in June, she crossed into Hungary and was captured almost immediately. Hannah was sent to prison in Budapest, tortured, and ultimately shot by a German firing squad on the cold, bleak, snowy morning of Nov. 7. Despite the cruelty and depravity of her torturers, young Hannah did not disclose the information they sought from her.
But it is not for her courage alone that Hannah Senesh is recalled and celebrated.
Hannah was a writer and poet long be-fore she came to Palestine. She wrote un-til near the end of her short life. Indeed, the poem that is perhaps most identified with her – Blessed is the Match – was writ-ten in Yugoslavia in 1944. It is a compact, incisive meditation on the possibilities for inspiration that arise from human action.
“Blessed is the match consumed while kindling flame.
Blessed is the flame that burns in the secret fastness of the heart.
Blessed is the heart with strength to stop its beating for honor’s sake.
Blessed is the match consumed in kindling flame.”
Were she alive today, it would indeed be a great privilege to stroll with Hannah Senesh. In a sense, however, we can stroll with her and perhaps even hold on to her elbow when we read her poems.
“There are stars whose radiance is vis-ible on earth though they have long been extinct,” Hannah once wrote. “There are people whose brilliance continues to light the world even though they are no longer among the living. These lights are particularly bright when the night is dark. They light the way for humankind.”
Hannah never imagined when she spoke those words that they would one day apply to her. Her words remind us over and over again that each of us stumbles less in the dark because of individuals – some perhaps in their 90s, some perhaps younger, some perhaps no longer alive – who provided light along the way in our lives.