By: Chaya Sora Jungreis-Gertzulin

Purim is behind us. What’s left of the shalach manos goodies are packed away. The costumes are in storage bins, and now we are getting ready to make Pesach.

Shloshim yom lifnei ha’chag, thirty days before the yom tov of Pesach…” Shulchan Aruch teaches that a month before Pesach, we should be studying and reviewing the intricate laws and customs of Pesach. Purim falls on the 14th day of Adar, Pesach exactly a month later on the 14th of Nisan. Pesach is special. With no other yom tov is this preparatory period mandated by chazal.

Pesach is in the air. It’s our time to get ready. Thirty days of preparation. To get the house ready, to do all our yom tov shopping, to make plans for the seder.

In our family, one of the first preparations is my husband going to bake matza. Year after year, he has the same time slot, a few weeks before Pesach. The same time slot that has been in his family for generations. It was his grandfather’s, going back almost 100 years, his father’s, and now his. As a young boy, he stood alongside his father and baked. The years passed, and then it was our children’s time to accompany him. Today, Boruch HaShem, it is our grandchildren who go along. At times, I join also and have nachas watching the little ones opening their eyes in wonder, as they watch the process. From kneading the flour, to rolling the dough, and then into the fiery coal-burning brick oven. They ooh and ahh each time they see the flames shoot up.

The strength of our people. Time-honored and loved traditions from generation to generation. We are a people who cherish the children. A nation that realizes that our children are our future. So much about Pesach includes the children. What a privilege it is for them to be part of it.

Bergen-Belsen, a few weeks before Pesach. The Bluzhever Rebbe, Rabbi Yisroel Spira zt”l (1889-1989), courageously approached the Nazi camp commander. His heart filled with emuna and bitachon, he daringly asked if there was a way he could possibly bake matza. A request only the Rebbe could be so bold to make.

A miracle. A dream come true. The commander gave his okay. With one caveat. Whoever wanted to participate in the matza baking would have to submit their name on a piece of paper. To many, it seemed like signing a death sentence. Only the Rebbe and a small handful fearlessly volunteered their names.

Could it be… was it actually going to happen. Matza in Bergen-Belsen?

They received a very small sack of flour and were able to put together a makeshift oven. The Rebbe and the small group got to work. They succeeded in baking a few pieces of crude matza. What a feeling of inner happiness permeated every fiber of their being. Even in the darkest of the dark in Bergen-Belsen, there would be Pesach.

But their joy was short-lived. The commander had his own plan. He was not so kind after all. The commander stormed in, turned over the oven, threw the matzos onto the ground, and with his shiny black boots and evil laugh, he stomped on them turning the matzos into a pile of crumbs.

The chassidim would not be deterred. They lovingly gathered whatever few broken pieces survived the commander’s sadistic actions and gave them to the Rebbe to be kept for seder night. After all, who, if not the Rebbe, would be worthy of eating matza on Pesach.

Seder night. The Rebbe knew the Haggadah by heart. He led his followers in conducting the seder. The power of the Jewish nation. Even in Bergen-Belsen, under the threat of death, they gathered together and sang the age-old, beloved songs of the Haggadah. The Nazis couldn’t destroy their faith.

I can only imagine the tears shed at that seder. The words of the Haggadah came alive in Bergen-Belsen. “Ha lachma anya, This is the poor man’s bread….” Their tears turned into tears of hope. “Hashata avdei, Now we are slaves, l’shana ha’ba’ah bnei chorin, next year, we will be free men.” (From the Pesach Hagaddah)

Words of faith. “V’hi she’amda la’avoseinu v’lonu, This is what stood by our fathers and us….sheh’b’chol dor vodor omdim oleinu l’chaloseinu, in every generation and generation, there are those who rise against us, to destroy us, v’HaKodosh Boruch Hu matzileinu miyadam, but HaShem saves us from their hand.”

And then it was time to taste the matza. The little pieces salvaged after the commander’s despicable actions.

A young widow witnessed it all. With tears in her eyes, she approached the Rebbe. “I have a young son. Rebbe, I think the matza should go to him.” All eyes turned to her, waiting for an explanation. “Rebbe, we are a nation that believes in a better tomorrow. That our children are the future, that they will carry on the traditions of the fathers. Do we not say on seder night, ’v’heegadeta l’vincha, and you shall tell it to your children? I want my child to know that even in the abyss of Bergen-Belsen, he ate matza.”

The Rebbe directed that the little pieces of broken matza be given to the young boy.

The Bluzhever Rebbe suffered much during the war. He lost his wife, his family, and most of his chassidim. Yet, he fought despair and continued on. After the war, a shidduch was suggested to the Rebbe. A widow by the name of Branya. Branya became the Bluzhever Rebbetzin. Years later, the Rebbe was asked, after all the pain he endured, how was he able to start over again, and how did he know that Branya would be the perfect rebbetzin.

The Rebbe shared that Branya was the young widow who approached him, making the heartfelt plea that her son be given the matza. It was Branya who believed in the future. She had the emuna that Am Yisroel will survive and continue on with strength. That we need our children to “taste the mitzva”. To know what it means to be a Jew, even in Bergen-Belsen.

B’chol dor vodor, in every generation and generation. There will be those who rise up against us. But we are here. Here to tell the story, here to build a better tomorrow.

This article was written L’zecher Nishmas / In Memory Of HaRav Meshulem ben HaRav Osher Anshil HaLevi, zt”l and Rebbetzin Esther bas HaRav Avraham HaLevi, zt”l