In modern Hebrew, the words for truth and art come from the same root. With masterful sensitivity, the artist Ben-Zion has transformed the horrible truths of the 20th century into a powerful artistic repertory of etchings, drawings, paintings and sculpture that beckon the viewer into his magical interpretation of the world, and the realities, of Jewish culture.

In the centenary year of this self taught artist, The B'nai B'rith Klutznick National Jewish Museum has brought together an extraordinary collection of Ben-Zion's work. A poet and writer, Ben-Zion stopped using the Hebrew language as the realities of the Holocaust became evident; writing in "the language of the martyred ones" became "unthinkable" to him.

The artist never actually depicts the horrors of the '30s and '40s, but rather he holds man up to himself, to show him what he has done to God's handiwork. Although there are many pieces in this collection that have Biblical themes, Ben-Zion's work cannot be termed "theological" by any means, but the viewer is drawn to his rich Biblical imagery, especially in his oils.

Perhaps the most striking painting in the exhibition is his 1937 oil on canvas entitled "Noah in the Ark." Here, we find a peacefully slumbering Noah, his eyes contentedly closed, caressing a menagerie. The dark, somber tones seem bereft of any source of light; in fact we seem to be in the belly of the Ark itself until we suddenly realize that the eyes of all the animals shine brilliantly, like torchieres against a night sky. Here, Ben-Zion seems to convey Noah's peace with having obeyed God, while the animal kingdom wonders what lies in store.

Following another story from the Scriptures, Ben-Zion has two depictions of Ruth and Boaz. A small drawing in India ink and paper (1945) and then a larger oil on wood (1958), reminiscent of Henri Rousseau's 1897 "Sleeping Gypsy," have a hypnotic effect on the observer. Like many of the artist's oils, this one has a particular dreamlike quality. The vibrant colors and rich textures create the sensation of a moving canvas, as in his "Summer" (1972) and "Path" in a Wheatfield (1953).

In two haunting pictures "A Simple, Forthright Polish Jew" (1936), an oil on denim, and "Prophet on the Ruins" (1938), another oil on canvas, Ben-Zion has summed up the exilic nature of the Jewish people. These remarkable images, devoid of comfort, seem to represent the horrible decade in which they were painted and convey the dark decade of the Jewish soul better than any words. Ben-Zion has himself assumed the mantle of a prophet, and his pictures transform themselves into jeremiads warning modern man of what is to come.

But the heart of the exhibit may be found in the 1957 oil "Scribe" and the 1975 oil "Kiddush." In both paintings, Ben-Zion focuses on the face -- in essence, the face of modern Judaism, vibrant despite the diasporatic centuries, the horrors of modern times and the misapprehension of their neighbors.

Along with the paintings, there are sculptures in iron and wood, whimsical masks, a few examples of his own yod (the pointers with which the Scriptures are read) and even a few pieces of stained glass.

Truly, Ben-Zion's work can be summed in his own words, reminiscent of King David: "A light sound like the thinnest of threads accompanies me in the darkeness of the abyss. God forbid if this thread should break" In his works, Ben-Zion offers that thread to accompany us as we try to understand the darkness of the abyss.