Today is Holocaust Memorial Day in Israel. We remember the 6,000,000 Jews, 10,000,000 Soviets, and millions of Serbs, Gypsies, and other unfortunate people that were wickedly tortured and murdered by the evil Nazis ym"s. I hope they get their extermination camp torture treatment in hell. Forever.
I was trying to pick out a picture for this post, and after going through hundreds of absolutely horrifying pictures of men, women, and children having been reduced to bones with a thin layer of skin on top, piles of dead bodies flung like garbage one on top of the other, a pile of legs that were severed at the hip for G-d knows what sick reason, a row of children laying blindfolded on their backs as the EVIL, HORRIBLE, SUBHUMAN Nazis tortured them in ways beyond our worst nightmares, I just couldn't bring myself to post any of it.
All I can think about now is that picture of those poor innocent children, lying naked and blindfolded, screaming and crying in pain and terror as they're surrounded by soulless beings of death who are the epitome of cruel sick perversion. G-d knows what was being done to them.
Every time I think about it my heart breaks all over again. I am flooded with pain and "WHY, HASHEM?!?!" even though I know I'm supposed to have emuna that the Holocaust had to happen, because Hashem let it happen.
The above picture is of my father and his father after they arrived in Israel. I believe my father was around 15 when this picture was taken. My father, Moshe, is a Holocaust survivor. He was just eight years old when his father, Zvi z"l, took him on the run from the Germans. My father's mother, Chana Fruma z"l, and his two little sisters, Sarah z"l, and Mindele z"l, were taken to Treblinka extermination camp.
As I lit four candles and thought about the superhuman strength and unwillingness to give up that my grandfather had, I realized deeply that if it weren't for his ultimate sacrifice, I wouldn't be here. My kids wouldn't be here. And David would be married to someone not nearly as gorgeous.
My grandfather Zvi lives on in me. He lives on in my father, who had to endure nearly three years hiding in wheat fields in Poland while on the run from the Germans and Poles. Three years of being homeless, no food, freezing Polish winters, rain, wild animals, and the constant terror of being discovered and killed.
I don't know how the survivors were able to physically and mentally get through such gehinnom.
In honor of today, please read my article describing my father's life in the fields. Even though we are only one or two generations removed from the survivors, we are at risk of losing our sensitivity to what has happened. Just look at what's going on in Syria. So many innocent people, young children and babies, are being murdered in vicious ways as you read this. But the world doesn't step in.
Take a moment to think about the survivors you know and the sacrifices they've made.
We are here because of them.
And even though many of them are no longer with us, they are still alive inside of us.
Just look at these two little monkeys.
My children, me, my siblings, and all future generations that come from us are alive because Zvi Hershl Rubinstein z"l did everything he could to make sure my father stayed alive.
May his soul and the souls of every single martyr enjoy eternal Divine bliss in that special place in Heaven reserved for those who died sanctifying Hashem's name.
And may we see the end of pain and suffering in our time, and with tremendous joy, greet our Mashiach and witness the rebuilding of our Holy Temple, Amen!