by Rabbi Paysach Krohn

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At a dinner in 1995 commemorating the 50th year since the liberation of Jews from the Nazi death camps, Yosef Friedenson told a moving a personal story that lent a historical perspective to the trials and tribulations that Jews have undergone throughout their nearly 2,000 years in the diaspora.

After being a prisoner and slave labor in numerous camps, Yosef, age 20, was transported to a steel factory labor camp in Poland in 1943, where armaments were made for the German war effort. The brutality of the German officers was unspeakable. Adults and children alike suffered pain and death at the hands of barbarians who roared, "No Jew will escape us, not even a child!"

At this particular camp, however, there was one German factory chief, Bruno Papeh, who was kind to Jews whenever he could be. He would provide them with extra rations of food, and was a bit more tolerant when the prisoners failed to complete their labor assignments on time.

While Yosef was at the camp, Akiva Goldstoof, a 40-year-old Jew from Krakow, was brought to the camp. The two became close friends. Despite the difficult circumstances, they exchanged Torah thoughts and encouraged each other in faith and belief.

A few weeks before Passover, Akiva called Yosef to the side and said, "I think we should ask Papeh if he would allow us to bake matzah for the holiday."

"You must be mad," replied Yosef. "Papeh has been kind to us in certain circumstances, but he will never allow us such a luxury!"

"I am older than you," said Akiva. "Listen to me; I believe he will be receptive."

After some intense debate, Yosef agreed to go with Akiva to ask the factory chief for permission to bake matzahs.

When Papeh heard and their request, he was incredulous. "Don't you have any other worries? Is this all that is on your minds?" he asked in disbelief.

"Yes," replied Yosef. "This is what we are concerned about, and it would mean a great deal to us if you granted permission."

Papeh thought about it for a moment and then said, "All right. If you have the flour, go ahead. Just talk to the Polish workers who are in charge of the ovens and tell them I gave the consent."

"But we don't have any flour," Yosef said quietly, embarrassed at being granted his wish and not having the means to fulfill it.

At that same time, a Polish factory worker was seeking a furlough from Papeh, who controlled the work schedule. Papeh knew that the Polish workers could get prize commodities from the local villagers and then bring them into the labor camp. Papeh was no saint. He would allow himself to be bribed. "I'll tell you what," Papeh said, turning to the Polish worker. "You get me a kilo of butter and a kilo of flour, and you can have the time off that you want."

The Polish worker agreed, and within a day Yosef and Akiva were called into Papeh's office, where he clandestinely gave them the flour for the matzahs. The two thanked him profusely, but secretly they worried that he could --and with his Nazi temper, would -- rescind his permission at any moment.

Several women, including Yosef's wife Gittel, kneaded the dough and baked the matzahs in the large melting ovens that had a temperature of 2,000 degrees. There was an air of controlled ecstasy in the barrack as the matzahs emerged from the ovens, ready for those who wanted them.

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On the first morning of Passover, Papeh walked into the factory and suddenly
became furious. As always, at 10 a.m., baskets containing slices of bread
were passed around the factory and every worker would take a meager slice.
Each slice was accounted for, and no one would dare take more than his
share. But instead of taking them, many prisoners left the bread in the doorway.

Papeh looked around at the people eating matzah and realized they had
purposely declined the bread. In a violent, bloodcurdling voice he suddenly
yelled, "Your God has forsaken you, and you are still loyal to Him?!"

Papeh scanned the room and then roared, "Friedenson! Eat your bread or you will die!"

Everyone froze. The fury they had feared had suddenly exploded, and at the worst time. None of the people moved as they waited to see what he would do. Papeh walked directly over to Akiva and yelled, "Has your God not forsaken you?!"

Akiva, standing erect and ready to accept the worst, replied softly but with certainty, "Not totally and not forever."

Papeh was taken aback by the answer. He could not comprehend such conviction. He knew well the suffering and torment of the Jews. "Not totally?" he demanded, raising his voice.

"You let us bake matzahs, didn't you?" Akiva replied.

In the midst of pain, there was a glimmer of consolation. In the hours of night, the dawn of eventually appeared.

Excerpted with permission from "ALONG THE MAGGID'S JOURNEY" by Rabbi Paysach Krohn. Published by ArtScroll/Mesorah Publications Ltd., Brooklyn, NY. http://www.artscroll.com

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What Goes Around, Comes Around

In 1939, the German military began to attack Poland. When all of Poland fell to the Germans, the Jews knew it was time to take steps to escape from the destruction. Russia was no lover of the Jews, but many instinctively felt that anything was preferable to the Germans. So, along with many others, Harav Yisroel Rabinowitz packed his belongings and began to plan his escape to Russia.

Reb Yisroel and his group cautiously approached the border, following in the footsteps of their barely visible guide. And then suddenly-disaster! Shouts and gunfire rang through the night as the border guards tried to stop the illegal refugees. Reb Yisroel ran desperately, zigzagging back and forth to avoid the bullets that were flying through the air. And then he tripped and fell, and the Russian guards were on top of him. Based on trumped-up charges, the evil Russians sentenced Reb Yisroel to 5 years of hard labor in Siberia.

Despite the difficulties, Reb Yisroel was determined not to give an inch in his observance of Torah and mitzvos. He avoided treif food at all costs. He refused to work on Shabbos, despite many beatings and punishments. In time, the guards realized that he was adamant in refusing to violate his religious principles, and they left him alone.

Other Jews in the area were greatly heartened by the presence of Reb Yisroel. The word quickly got around. For the many Jews imprisoned in the wasteland of Siberia, he became the source of halachic (Jewish legal) advice and much needed encouragement.

Pesach was several weeks away, and Reb Yisroel began making plans for a chometz-free Pesach. He never touched the non-kosher soup, so he lived only on his bread ration. What could replace it for Pesach? Then he made contact with a woman living near the camp, who was willing to trade bread for other kinds of food. Now Reb Yisroel had to find a way to get to the woman to make the exchange. An idea began to form in his mind. He would eat only half his bread ration during the next few weeks, saving the other half to trade in return for potatoes. Then, shortly before Pesach, he would fake illness, thereby gaining access to the prison hospital, where security was lax. In the middle of the night, he would leave the hospital to make the trade.

The first difficulty was in saving half of the meager bread ration. The entire ration itself was hardly enough to live on, and on the reduced ration, he started to feel weak from hunger. Still, the thought of the upcoming Yom Tov strengthened him and made it all worthwhile.

Shortly before Pesach, Reb Yisroel managed to procure a grass that causes stomach illness. He was immediately admitted to the hospital, where they confiscated his fur coat; after all, they reasoned, bedridden patients had no use for fur coats. This certainly complicated his plan; going out in the Siberian night without a coat was not very advisable. But he had come this far, and he was determined to go ahead with his plan.

Long after the other patients were asleep, Reb Yisroel slipped out of bed and climbed out of the nearest window. The freezing wind instantly knifed through his thin nightclothes, and he started shivering uncontrollably. Moving quickly to keep warm, he dashed to the hiding place where he kept his extra bread, grabbed the food, and raced to meet the woman.

Upon reaching his destination, Reb Yisroel realized that he had to be back at the hospital before the nurses came around and discovered him missing. So he made the exchange quickly, thanked the woman politely, and dashed out toward the hospital. The way back somehow seemed to take much longer. Every step was an effort as the frigid wind snatched away his breath and froze his body. He slipped in the window and back into bed, with nobody realizing his absence. When Pesach arrived, the satisfaction of being able to observe the Yom Tov in accordance with halacha (Jewish law) made the outing at night well worthwhile.

After Pesach, spring finally came to Siberia. As spring turned to summer, Reb Yisroel began thinking about Tisha b-Av. Should he fast in his weakened state? Reb Yisroel decided to fast and share in the sorrow of his Creator over the destruction of the Holy Temple. His friends heard about his plans, and they tried to convince him not to fast. Still, Reb Yisroel remained firm. So they decided to help him out as much as they could.

One of the women cooked him a soup to eat after the fast. As soon as he ate the soup, Reb Yisroel suffered from unbearable stomach pains, and he was taken to the hospital. As he was dozing off, he suddenly realized that this was the second time he had been in the hospital for stomach pains; the first time, of course, he caused the stomach pains himself, to be able to observe Pesach.

Shouts and cheers awakened Reb Yisroel the following morning. We are free! We are free! The other patients were dancing wildly around the room, laughing and crying simultaneously. What is all this about?? Reb Yisroel asked in surprise. Yisroel, we are free!? they cried with excitement. Stalin made a pact with the Polish government in exile, allowing all the political prisoners of Polish nationalities who are the in hospitals to be set free. And that means that we are free to go!?

Reb Yisroel immediately offered a heartfelt prayer to Hashem. Clearly, his being in the hospital at this opportune moment was a result of his mesiras nefesh (self-sacrifice) in observing the laws of Pesach. The hand of Hashem in his life was so evident, it was amazing! Reb Yisroel was sent to Tashkent, where he soon began teaching children. After the war, he came to America and became a rav in the Bronx, where he continued his vision in life: teaching Torah to all.