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The year was 1946.
The Skulener Rebbe had been living in Czernowitz,
which was annexed by the Soviet Union in 1940. It later fell into German
and Romanian hands until the Soviet forces liberated the city in 1944.
Czernowitz is currently divided between Romania and Ukraine. A number of
Rebbes and other tzaddidim arrived in Czernowitz after the war to
regroup and decide where to settle. But nobody really knew what to do or
where to go. It was only one year after the hororrs of the camps. Just
as an aside, Rav Aharon Kotler could not decide whether to go to Israel
or the United States. He did the goral hagrah (the Vilna Gaon's method
of opening to a random page of Torah, and looking for the first pasuk
that stands out, in order to decide a difficult question). The first
pasuk that caught his eye spoke of Aharon going out into the wilderness
to meet Moshe. And so it was decided. Rav Aharon Kotler, like his
namesake in the Torah, Aharon, would go out into the wilderness,
the
United States (then considered a spiritual wilderness), to meet Moshe,
Rav Moshe Feistein, already in the States. Similarly, when Rav Shach
couldn't decide whether or not to leave Europe, he opened to the
parshah. It was lech-lecha: go from your land and your people and your
father's house. He then knew what to do. But back to the story. The
Skulener Rebbe found himself in a situation where all those who had come
from the camps had not a penny to their name. In addition, the Rebbe
was the only person in town that had the resources to bake shemurah
matzah for Pesach. Due to his infinite chesed (kindness) he decided to
go to work for the sake of the people. He would bake and he would bake,
until the resources ran dry, and he would then distribute three matzos
to anyone and everyone who knocked on his door. Three matzos and no
more.
A young man came to his home, and was given his three matzos. He told
the Rebbe that he needed six matzos. The Rebbe said that he was very,
very sorry, but he must provide for all of the Jewish inhabitants of the
city. The young man would not take no for an answer. He said that his
father asked for six matzos, and he could not disobey. "What is your
name?" asked the Rebbe. "Moshe Hager," answered the boy. "And just who
is your father?" asked the Rebbe. "Reb Baruch Hager.". The Rebbe was
astounded. The Seret-Vizhnitzer Rebbe asking for six matzos! But despite
his great esteem for the Seret-Vizhnitzer Rebbe, a rule is a rule. He
reminded the Rebbe's son that only three matzos were required for the
seder, so why the adamant request? The young man said that on the
grounds of kibud av (honoring one's father) he must take home six
matzos. The Rebbe reluctantly agreed, and handed over six matzos.
Days later, as the Rebbe had finished giving out shemurah matzah for
Pesach, Reb Moshe Hager returned. He had come back with three matzos.
The Rebbe was astounded, once again, and inquired as to the turn of
events. The young man had refused to go home with less than six matzos,
and here he was returning three! The young man replied, "my father knew
that the Rebbe was going to expend all of his energies toward baking
matzah and handing out matzah to the needy. My father said that
considering the Rebbe's overwhelming chesed he might unwittingly give
away all the matzos, leaving none for his own seder." The Rebbe was
touched, and took the three matzos. On his way out, Reb Moshe Hager
checked with the gabbaim (assistants to the Rebbe). And so it was.
The
Rebbe had unknowingly given away all of the matzos, leaving none for
himself.
The Bluzhever Rebbe, Reb Yisrael Spiro, was one of the great chassidic
leaders of the last century. His wife and children were slaughtered in
the Holocaust. High on the Nazis' most-wanted list, the Rebbe himself
had been interned in labor camps, and at some point was shipped to
Bergen-Belsen. As Pesach approached that first year there was talk among
the inmates about obtaining matzah. Needless to say, there was very
little hope, and few dwelt on the subject matter for any length of time.
While there were some that had been able to don tefilin on almost a
daily basis, and others who stealthily managed to light shabbos candles
on given weeks, and still others who under the cover of night davened
b'tzibbur (prayed with a group), obtaining matzah would actually entail a
much more serious set of difficulties, namely finding a small oven, and
getting the ingredients for the baking. There was no hope in this
particular situation.
But there were a few who decided to go to the Bluzhever Rebbe. Perhaps
he could come up with some sort of strategy. The Bluzhever Rebbe, like
other "Wunderrabbiner," was particularly hated by the Nazis. But the
Rebbe had a special way about him. Oddly enough, there was one
kommandant in the camp that saw the Rebbe as a sort of curiosity and,
from time to time, would go over to the Rebbe, and engage him in
conversation. It is needless to say, however, that he left no doubt as
to who was in charge. Their conversations took place clandestinely, lest
someone from the high command find out, and reprimand the kommandant.That wouldn't be good for the Jews either. After meditating on the
matter for some time, the Rebbe decided to take a chance; a big chance.
When the opportunity arose he casually struck up a conversation with the
kommandant in private, and a few minutes into the conversation began to
explain that a holiday of the utmost importance for the Jews was almost
at hand. "And it is essential for the observance of this holiday," he
explained to the kommandant, "that we have a sort of bread baked in a
very particular fashion. Is there anything that Herr kommandant could do
to perhaps obtain for us a very small oven and some flower and water so
that we may bake some of this bread? Of course it would be done in
stealth and out of sight." The kommandant, with eyes now opened so wide
that they looked as if they were about to burst, gave the Rebbe a long,
hard stare. The Rebbe now believed that he had overstepped the bounds of
his camaraderie with the Nazi, and began to back away. He began to fear
for his life. The kommandant took his eyes off of the Rebbe, and let
out a little chuckle. He began to walk away, and said, shockingly, "I'll
see what I could do." The Rebbe did not repeat this story to the other
inmates. There was really no point in getting their hopes up. But there
was a shred of hope implanted in the Rebbe's own mind.
About a week later, when Pesach was almost at hand, the kommandant
called for the Rebbe. He was instructed to send two men to a certain
gate, and to carry a package to the bunker. The kommandant had, in fact,
procured a small oven, and small amounts of flower and water to go with
it. Word of the oven spread among the Jews of Bergen-Belsen, and many
believed that a miracle was at hand. A small group of Jews began
preparations at the first opportunity. It was late into the night, and
they began the baking. The oven was tiny, and could only bake a few
pieces of matzah at one time, but the joy and elation among those who
stood around the oven were so great and palpable that nobody dared
complain about the size.
Someone had spotted a Nazi walking toward the bunker, and the operation
was quickly halted. "Keep on working," whispered one of the Jews, "it's
only the kommandant." But as the kommandant came closer, those who
looked him in the face saw clearly that this was not the same
kommandant. Yes, it was the kommandant who had obtained an oven for the
Jews, but by the look on his face his graciousness was now but a
fleeting memory. His eyes spoke of evil, punishment and death. He was a
blood thirsty Nazi like all the rest. He marched up to the group, and
exclaimed, "a letter was intercepted from this camp! I am going to find
out who in this camp smuggled out a letter! Because of this letter I
have been reprimanded and have gone down in rank!" With these words he
went over to the tiny oven, and with one great malicious stomp, smashed
the oven flat with his boot. One stomp, and there was nothing left. The
oven was completely destroyed. The Jews began to cry. The mitzvah was so
close. But all they were left with now was about a dozen pieces of
matzah. They had only begun to bake.
It was erev Pesach, and the obvious question arose: who should get the
matzah? Who out of all the Jews in Bergen-Belsen hungry for food, and
hungry to fulfill the mitzvah of eating matzah on Pesach was going to
get a piece? Discussions broke out among the inmates. Nobody had an
answer. The Rebbe, of course was asked to decide, but this would be a
weighty and momentous decision. He needed more time. He contemplated the
profound consequences that lie ahead as to who would and who would not
get to eat matzah that Pesach in Bergen-Belson. The Rebbe finally came
to an answer. "The adults, the oldest among us will get the few matzohs.
But just then came a voice. "Binoreinu uviskeineinu! binoreinu
uviskeineineinu!" It was a woman's voice. She lay on the ground, almost
lifeless, looking as if she could not go on for even another few
minutes. "Binoreinu uviskeineinu," she cried out with what little
strength she had left in her emaciated and broken body. "When Moshe
Rabbeinu came to Paroh at the commandment of Hashem, he said 'let my
people go,' and he said, 'binoreinu uvizkeineinu neileich,' the young
ones go first. They were going out to the wilderness for matan Torah
(the giving of the Torah), and Hashem put the young ones before the old
ones. If this was the case with matan Torah, then here too, we must put
the young ones first, the children, and give them the little matzah that
we have so that they could fulfill the mitzvah of eating matzah on
Pesach. Because we have the hope that we will be liberated at some
point. And we don't know what will happen to us in this destroyed world
afterwords. People could go astray. Children could go astray. But if
they have this mitzvah of matzah now on this Pesach in Bergen-Belsen,
then they will have it with them for the rest of their lives. The Rebbe
went over to this woman, and said, "binoreinu uvizkeineinu. You are
absolutely right." And so, that year on Pesach, amidst the horrors of
Bergen-Belsen, the matzah was given to the children during the secret
Pesach seder led by the Bluzhever Rebbe.
After liberation the Rebbe married this woman, and they began a new life. She became known as the Bluzhever Rebbetzin.
I was watching a documentary recently on Peter Bergson, the activist who
tried to save Jews from Nazi hands during the Holocaust. It is only in
recent years that his efforts have come to light. Stephen Wise, head of
the reform movement of Judaism who had ample political contacts did
little if nothing to help Jews escape Europe at the time. He told the
president directly that the major issue in the Holocaust was not that of
Jews. Wise, along with a host of other high-profile non-orthodox Jewish
leaders, have blood on their hands until this day.
What I did not know was that Rav Aharon Kotler and other orthodox
leaders presided over organizations that did try to influence the fate
of the Jews in Europe. 400 orthodox rabbis marched on Washington in an
attempt to publicize the machinations of the Nazi empire. In general,
although they fought hard, these groups were not successful in
influencing the president, as Stephen Wise was constantly telling the
president that these religious Jews were nothing but rabble-rousers.
Thank you Stephen Wise and your cronies.
But that is not why I brought up the documentary on Peter Bergson. It
was mentioned that many of the Jews who were deported to Auschwitz
around Pesach time came with small amounts of flower. They believed, as
the Germans had told them, that they were being taken on train rides to
be resettled. So as Pesach approached they brought flower with them. Few
knew that it would be their last day. The Sonderkommandos were in
charge of collecting the gassed bodies and throwing them into the ovens
of the crematoria. They also gathered their belongings and found the
flower. One of the Sonderkommandos was a Chassidic Jew named Moshe
Grossman. He had already lost his wife and children. Using the flower,
he made matzah in the ovens of the crematoria as an "act of defiance"
against the Nazis. The matzah was distributed to a number of prisoners,
and as they gathered around on Pesach night they said, in the words of
the Haggadah, "this year we are slaves, next year we will be free."
I'm really not sure how I feel about this episode. On the one hand, the
matzah was baked among human remains; skin, blood, hair, nails. Surely
it was an act of defiance, but still, I'm not so sure about this being a
heroic act. Please tell me what you think.
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