Two Candles for Sammy

Two Candles for Sammy



http://www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/332496/jewish/Two-Candles-for-Sammy.htm


By Simon Wiesenthal



I first heard of Sammy Rosenbaum in 1965, when a Mrs. Rawicz from Rabka came into my office in Vienna to testify at a War Crimes trial. Mrs. Rawicz remembered Sammy Rosenbaum as "a frail boy, with a pale, thin face and big, dark eyes, who looked much older than his age -- as did many children who learned too early about life." Sammy was nine years old in 1939 when the Germans entered Rabka and made life a nightmare.



Sammy's father was a tailor who lived in two musty rooms and a tiny kitchen in an old house. But they were happy and religious. Every Friday night Sammy went with his father to the synagogue, after his mother and sister lit the Shabbat candles.



In 1940 the SS set up a training center in a former Polish Army barracks near Rabka. In the early phase of the war, the SS platoons shot their victims; fifty, a hundred, even a hundred and fifty people a day.



The SS men were being hardened at Rabka so they would become insensitive to blood, to the agonizing cries of women and children. The job must be done with a minimum of fuss and maximum of efficiency. That was a Fuhrerbefehl -- the Fuhrer's order.



The school commander was SS Untersturmfuhrer Wilhelm Rosenbaum from Hamburg. Cynical and brutal, he walked around with a riding crop. "His appearance frightened us," the woman from Rabka remembered.



Early in 1942, SS Rosenbaum ordered all Rabka's Jews to appear at the local school to "register." The sick and the elderly would be deported, and the others would labor for the Wehrmacht.



Toward the end of the registration, SS Fuhrer Rosenbaum appeared, accompanied by two deputies, Hermann Oder and Walter Proch. SS Fuhrer Rosenbaum read through the list of names. "Suddenly, he beat his riding crop hard on the table," the woman from Rabka told me. "We each winced as if we had been whipped." SS man Rosenbaum shouted: "What's this? Rosenbaum? Jews! How dare these verdammte Juden have my good German name?"



He threw the list on the table and strode out. We knew the Rosenbaums would be killed; it was only a matter of time. People would be executed because their name was Rosenberg, or if their first name happened to be Adolf or Hermann.



The Police school practiced executions in a clearing in the woods. SS students shot Jews and Poles rounded up by the Gestapo, while SS Fuhrer Rosenbaum observed students' reactions with clinical detachment. If a student flinched, he was removed from the execution squad and sent to the front.



After the registration, Mrs. Rawicz worked in the police school as a charwoman. "When the SS men came back from the clearing in the woods I had to clean their boots covered with blood." It was a Friday morning in June 1942. Two SS men escorted "the Jew Rosenbaum," his wife, and their fifteen-year-old daughter Paula. Behind them came SS Fuhrer Rosenbaum.



"The woman and the girl were marched around the schoolhouse and then I heard some shots," the witness said. "I saw SS man Rosenbaum beat our Rosenbaum with his riding crop, shouting: 'You dirty Jews, I'll teach you a lesson for having my German name!' Then the SS man took his revolver and shot Rosenbaum the tailor two or three times. Then the SS sent an unarmed kapo (Jewish policeman) to the quarry to get Sammy.



He went to Zakryty in a horse drawn cart. He stopped and waved at Sammy Rosenbaum. Everybody in the quarry stared -- the Jewish laborers and the SS guards. Sammy put the stone in his hands on the truck, and walked toward the cart.



Sammy looked up at the kapo. "Where are they?" he asked - "Father, Mother, and Paula. Where?" The kapo just shook his head.



Sammy understood. "They're dead." He muttered, and spoke matter-of-factly: "Our name is Rosenbaum, and now you've come for me." He stepped up and sat down next to the kapo.



The policeman had expected the boy to cry, perhaps run away. Riding out to Zakryty, the policeman wondered how he might have forewarned the boy, allow him to disappear in the woods, where the Polish underground might help him. Now it was too late. The SS guards were watching.



The kapo told Sammy what had happened that morning. Sammy asked if they could stop for a moment at his house. When they got there, he stepped down and walked into the front room, leaving the door open. He looked over the table with the half-filled teacups left from breakfast. He looked at the clock. It was half past three. Father, Mother and Paula were already buried, and no one had lit a candle for them. Slowly methodically, Sammy cleaned off the table and put the candlesticks on it.



"I could see Sammy from the outside," the kapo told Mrs. Rawicz. "He put on his skullcap, and lit the candles. Two for his father, two for his mother, two for his sister. And he prayed. I saw his lips moving. He said Kaddish for them." Kaddish is the prayer for the dead. Father Rosenbaum always said Kaddish for his dead parents, and had shown Sammy the prayer. Now he was the only one left in his family. He stood quietly, looking at the six candles.



The Jewish policeman outside saw Sammy slowly shaking his head, as though he suddenly remembered something. Then Sammy placed two more candles on the table, took a match and lit them, and prayed.



"The boy knew he was already dead," the policeman said later. "He lit the candles and said Kaddish for himself."



Sammy came out, and sat down near the kapo, who was crying. The boy didn't cry. The kapo wiped away his tears with the back of his hand and pulled the reins, but the tears kept coming. The boy didn't say a word. He gently touched the older man's arm, to comfort him -- to forgive him for taking him away.



They rode to the clearing in the woods, where SS Fuhrer Rosenbaum and his students waited.



"About time!" screamed the SS man.



No tombstone bears Sammy Rosenbaum's name. No one might have remembered him if the woman from Rabka had not come into my office. But every year, one day in June, I light two candles for him and say Kaddish.

Obstacles and Challenges

Obstacles and Challenges






By Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, The Lubavitcher Rebbe



Greeting and Blessing:



I have been informed of the loss which has been sustained by your business enterprise, the earnings of which were earmarked for the Lubavitch House activities, and that this unfortunate occurrence has considerably upset you.



While such a reaction is quite understandable, it is necessary not to lose sight of the real Torah perspective. For, as in the case of every occurrence and every matter, the Torah contains an answer and a definite view. Indeed, it has often been emphasized that the Torah is eternal, and not only in regard to the Mitzvot, but also in regard to the various narratives in the Torah. And while the events and episodes mentioned in the Torah were connected with certain persons, and certain circumstances, in time and place, nevertheless their message is eternal and valid for all times and all places, with particular relevance also to each and every one of us individually.



It was very difficult for Abraham to when he was told to go to an unknown land I have in mind the earliest trials and tests which the first Jew, our Father Abraham, had to undergo, at a time when he was one and only in his generation, as it is written, "One was Abraham." When G‑d said to Abraham Lech l'cha, ordering him to leave his land, his birthplace, and father's house, it was very difficult for him to do so, even to separate himself from one of the three attachments, not to mention all three together. Then Abraham was told to go to an unknown to him land (Canaan, later to become Eretz Yisroel1), where, he was promised, he would become great, and a source of blessing for all. Yet, no sooner did he arrive there, than a famine broke out in that particular land with such severity, that he had to leave at once and go to Egypt, which undoubtedly was with G‑d's approval. Under these circumstances, one might have expected that Abraham could very seriously question Divine Providence, which seemed so inconsistent and contradictory. All the more so in view of what is written in Pirkei d'Rabbi Elazar that the famine affected only the land of Canaan and did not extend to any other land, which was clearly intended to test him. Yet, Abraham not only did not complain, but did everything with joy and gladness of heart, taking his whole family with him, etc. Of course, it all turned out only as a test of his Bitachon2 in G‑d, for soon afterwards Abraham was richly rewarded, and he returned to Canaan richly laden with cattle, silver and gold, as the Torah tells us. In reference to this experience of Abraham, the Midrash states that everything experienced by Abraham also happened to his children.



You ought to consider yourself very privileged to have the merit to be considered worthy of tests similar to Abraham In light of the above, you ought to consider yourself very privileged to have the Zechut3 to be considered worthy of Nisyonot (tests) similar to the above, and the similarity surely requires no elaboration. I am confident that very soon you, too, will see the happy end of this test, and be richly rewarded with "silver and gold" also in the plain sense of the word. All the more so since the profits of this business enterprise have been dedicated to a holy cause.



Inasmuch as we will soon celebrate Yom Tov Pesach,4 the Festival of our Liberation, may G‑d grant that you should be liberated also from all distracting thoughts, and be able to continue your sacred work in matters of Torah and holiness in general, and the activities of Lubavitch and Kosher Chinuch5 in particular, and do so with joy and gladness of heart.



Wishing you and yours a Kosher and happy Pesach,



With blessing,





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FOOTNOTES

1. =the land of Israel



2. =trust [in G-d]



3. =merit



4. =holiday of Passover



5. =education