The day before Rosh Hashana
5704, the Nazi guards in Auschwitz
rounded up all boys aged eighteen
and under. There were about 1,600
of these boys, who had until then
managed to escape the gas chambers. The Nazis gathered their catch in an empty lot and erected
a plank of wood at a certain height.
Each boy would pass under the
plank; those whose heads reached
the plank would live. Those who did
not would be sent to a sealed barracks to await their fate.
At the end of the exercise, 1,400
boys were immediately taken to a
sealed barracks. They were not provided with any light, food or drink.
They were to wait there until the next
evening.
The Germans knew they
could trust the guards to deliver 1,400
victims at the day's end; any missing boys would be compensated
for by the guards themselves.
Many of the boys inside the airless barracks had fathers, brothers,
or close friends in the camp. These
relatives approached the guards,
begging them to free their dear
ones. The kapos were open to
bribery, and some fathers used hidden stores of money or jewelry to free
their children. Yet, before lettiug one
prisoner free, the guards would
always make sure to take another in his place. In this way, the Germans
would still receive the same number
of victims.
That entire Rosh Hashana, the
camp was overtaken hy feverish
activity. Desperate fathers borrowed, bartered, and gave up their
last remaining possessions to save
their children. As the day went on,
the clock danced to a macabre
rhythm, counting away the last few
hours left to free the captives.
Yet, amidst the desperate activity, there were a few who realized the
awful price to be paid for their sons'
freedom.
An unpretentious Hungarian Jew
approached the revered Weitzener
Rav, Rabbi Zvi Hirsh Meisels, for a
pesak. "Rebbe" he asked, "my only
son is in there with all the other boys
who are fated to die. I have the means
to save him. But I know, without a
doubt, that the guards will take
another boy in his place. And so I am
asking the Rav to rule whether the
Torah permits me to save my son. What the Rav rules is what I shall do".
Rabbi Meisels trembled in fear and
tried to evade the Jew's request "How
can I possibly rule on this complicated matter?" he said. "Matters of life
and death are never decided by one
lone rav; they used to be determined
by the Sanhedrin. Here I am in
Auschwitz, without any other rabbanim to consult with, without any sifrei
halacha to research, without even a
clear head."
But the Jew would not give up. He
begged Rabbi Meisels to give him an
answer. "Rebbe" he asked, "if it was
your child, would you say it was permissible? lf you can honestly tell me
not, then l will accept your verdict
with love."
Rabbi Meisels implored him, "My
dear friend, I didn't say it is permissible, nor did l say it is forbidden. Do
as you would have done had you
never asked me this question."
The father would not give in. He
continued to beg for an answer.
When the Weitzener Rav could not honestly tell him it would be permitted to free his son at the expense of another Jewish child, the "simple" Jew understood. With great emotion and feeling, he said, "Rebbe, I wanted to know what the
Torah requires me to do. I asked a rav. There is no other rav to ask. If you could not assure me that it was permissible to free my son, then it must be that the Torah forbids it. For after all, if it would have been permissible, you would certainly have told me to save my only child. If my son shall go to his death because that is what Torah and halacha determine, then I shall accept it with love and happiness. I will do as the Torah commands."
And so it was. The father did not bribe the kapo to release his only son. He would sacrifice his Yitzchak for the sake of G-d. That entire Rosh Hashana day, this "simple" Jew kept
repeating to himself with deep joy that he had merited to sacrifice his only son, despite his ability to redeem him-because that was what
the Torah commanded.
That father and his son, and millions
like them, are the cinders of which the
smoke of Auschwitz is composed. They
are the smoke, the reiach nichoach, on
the twentieth century mizbeiach of
Kiddush Hashem.
They are the fire, the devotion, the
inspiration which will illuminate our
lives, light our path and warm our beings
until we are reunited with them, speedily in our days.
