Still Burning
As told to Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach, zt'l - We stood there, frightened and excited. Who would have dreamed that one small flame could give off so much light? Suddenly, a German...
"The year was 1942 and I was in Auschwitz. We were so many poor souls clinging together, hungry and afraid. We could barely find enough food to support ourselves, much less anyone else. But there was one man in our barrack who was different from all the rest. He was a tzaddik, a righteous person.
"His name was Reb Naftali. I never once heard him complain. We were in the deepest hell, yet he never uttered a bad word. In fact, he managed to help others. There was a small group of us who clung to him, followed him around. What could we do? He was the only warmth and light that we had.
"Winter came, and it was bitterly cold. There was utter hopelessness in the air. Then the dreaded announcement came. Several days before Chanukah, the Germans declared that anyone found lighting the Chanukah candles would be shot. Although we would never defy such orders, we knew that Reb Naftali would, and we were afraid.
"When the first night of Chanukah arrived, our little group observed him carefully. We weren't about to let him out of our sight. At night, we had to remain in the barrack. Anyone caught outside was shot. The evening passed — 9:00 p.m., 10:00 p.m., 11:00. I had just started to doze off when I realized that Reb Naftali had slipped out. I awoke the others and we stole out after him. We followed his tracks in the snow. Somehow they looked strange. We found him by a little building, protected from the wind. He wasn't wearing shoes. Auschwitz in the winter without shoes!
"'Reb Naftali,' where are your shoes?
"'I traded them for a candle.'
"'Please, Naftali,' we begged, 'don't do it. They'll kill you.'
"'Listen,' he said sternly, 'Tonight is Chanukah. On Chanukah, Jews light candles. That's what we were commanded to do. The Hasmoneans weren't afraid, so why should we be?'
He took out a tiny pencil-thin candle, made the blessings, and lit it.
We stood there, frightened and excited. Who would have dreamed that one small flame could give off so much light?
Suddenly, a German soldier appeared in the darkness. He was holding a whip in one hand; in the other, a pistol.
"'Who lit that candle?' he barked at us.
"Reb Naftali stepped forward, 'I lit it,' he said.
"The German whipped him across the face. 'Blow it out!' he yelled. 'Blow it out!'
Reb Naftali stood there. He didn't move. He didn't even lower his eyes. Then the German took out his gun and shot him. The German killed him on the spot. We stood in fear, not believing our eyes.
"'You,' he shouted at one of my friends, 'drag him this way.' He dragged poor Naftali through the snow into the darkness. The German walked away, but the candle was still burning.
"And for those of us who were there, Reb Naftali's candle is still burning. It was never extinguished."
The Maccabees passed on to all future generations a great light, a light that is still burning today.
Still burning. Yes, still burning.
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