One day, a Holocaust survivor named R’ Akiva Steinberg approached R’ Shlomo Yitzchok Unger, the Rav of Chug Chasam Sofer, with a disturbing dream. Before sharing the dream, he told the Rav that he had to share a story that took place some 30 years prior in Auschwitz, 1945:
“In Cheshvon of 5705, I came to Auschwitz. On the first day I arrived, my wife and six children were killed right before my eyes. At the young age of 30, I was left without anything; I was displaced from my home with no family or friends. Nothing. I lay there heartbroken.
“A man named Reb Aryeh tapped me on my back. ‘You lost your family today,’ he said to me. ‘Well, I also did. I lost my wife and eight children. Let’s learn something together, and that’ll rejuvenate us, together.’”
Besides descending from a prestigious family, Reb Aryeh was also a great talmid chacham, in his own right. He told R’ Akiva that he would be happy to go through Mishnayos with him, one by one. “That was the only thing,” recalled R’ Akiva, “that gave me the oomph to continue on. For the first time, I felt the feeling of ‘Ki heim chayeinu’ in the most literal way.”
Several months passed, and Reb Aryeh informed R’ Akiva that since Pesach was arriving in just a few weeks, they must arrange matzos for them to eat on leil ha’seder.
R’ Akiva turned to Reb Aryeh in dismay. “Matzos? We are in Auschwitz. What matzos?!”
Reb Aryeh ensured him not to underestimate Hashem’s ability. “Haba l’taher misayin oso — One who comes to purify himself will get Heavenly assistance, and we should leave it to Him.”
That night, missiles didn’t stop falling on the camp. The next day, when Reb Aryeh was heading to work, he noticed that two rockets had landed on the warehouse that contained the wheat. It was an enormous warehouse, and sacks of wheat were dispersed all over the floor. Reb Aryeh convinced R’ Akiva to head there and collect some wheat. Late that night, after he finished work, R’ Akiva secretly went and collected two k’zeisim of wheat and brought it into the barracks. Every night, they managed to grind just a few kernels, and by Hei Nissan, they’d managed to grind all the wheat. That night, they managed to get the equipment needed to bake the matzos, and they did just that.
R’ Akiva joyfully tucked the matzos under his arm and headed back to the camp. His excitement was palpable; he was going to fulfill such a precious mitzva — in Auschwitz no less!
As he entered the camp, though, the guard noticed something popping out from under his sleeve. In no time, he detected the matzos, grabbed them from under R’ Akiva’s hands, and threw them onto the cold Auschwitz ground. He took his big leather boots and crushed it back into flour, but he wasn’t done. He proceeded to give R’ Akiva a beating that he’d never had before; he was knocked unconscious with just a hairsbreadth separating him from death. Just before the guard could finish the job, someone called for his assistance, and he disappeared. That spared R’ Akiva’s life.
After several minutes, R’ Akiva regained consciousness but lay there strengthless. With whatever energy he had, he managed to collect whatever crumbs of the matza were still consumable — a total of one k’zayis.
After arriving back in the barracks, Reb Aryeh was beside himself at seeing R’ Akiva’s situation. Reb Aryeh came running over, engulfed in a deep concern. Hearing what R’ Akiva had experienced, Reb Aryeh oversaw R’ Akiva’s care to the best of his ability, and most of all was there for moral support.
Once R’ Akiva got somewhat back to himself, the question arose as to who would eat that k’zayis. Reb Aryeh claimed that since he was the one who introduced the idea and guided R’ Akiva to acquire it, the matza should be his. “If not for me, you wouldn’t have known at all that Pesach was coming, and thus the matza belongs to me.” R’ Akiva appealed that he nearly sacrificed his life for it, and so surely it should be his. That was the dilemma with which they were confronted.
They eventually agreed that Reb Aryeh would eat the k’zayis, but with two conditions: 1) That Reb Aryeh would dictate the entire Haggada word-for-word to R’ Akiva, and 2) that the s’char of the mitzva would be R’ Akiva’s. And the deal was settled.
On the leil ha’seder, they got together to say the Haggada. The secret got out that a seder was going to be conducted, and many inmates joined along. Reb Aryeh and R’ Akiva kept to their agreement: Reb Aryeh ate the matza, while R’ Akiva had the Haggada dictated to him.
The next day, they arose to put in another days’ worth of work. During their work, while no Nazis were looking, a group of inmates formed for a Yom-Tov’dike davening. They became so emotional that, as they got to Hallel, Reb Aryeh started to enunciate the words loud enough to be heard. As he got to the words, “Asher kideshanu...l’kro,” the guards caught on. When the Nazis heard Reb Aryeh’s heartfelt Hallel, they killed him on the spot.
R’ Akiva was heartbroken. His mentor was gone. But although Reb Aryeh was no longer with him, the message and impact that he left R’ Akiva with kept him alive.
30 years passed until one night, Reb Aryeh came to R’ Akiva in a dream. In the dream, he begged R’ Akiva to grant him the s’char of the matza that he’d eaten that leil ha’seder in Auschwitz. “It will mean so much to me,” Reb Aryeh pleaded. “Although I know that we agreed on it, I’m asking you to mercifully grant me the s’char retroactively. It means a World to me.”
At first, R’ Akiva told him no, since they’d come to an agreement, but the next night, Reb Aryeh returned, begging R’ Akiva to grant him the s’char. That was why R’ Akiva had approached R’ Unger, asking what he should do.
R’ Unger was stunned. What was he supposed to tell this survivor? He had nothing to say other than to lead R’ Akiva to Reb Avraham Yeshua Herschel Twersky, the Machnovka Rebbe. When the Rebbe heard the story, he told R’ Akiva that the s’char should rightfully be given to Reb Aryeh.
“Rightfully?” R’ Akiva questioned, perplexed. “I was the one who endangered my life for it, and besides, we agreed upon it!”
The Rebbe said that, unlike R’ Akiva, who was bentched with many more opportunities to fulfill the mitzva, and even has grandchildren who will fulfill it as well, Reb Aryeh never got the same chances. The last matza he’d ever eat was that broken-up k’zayis. It should, therefore, rightfully be given to Reb Aryeh.
The Rebbe then instructed R’ Akiva how to materialize the exchange. “Head to the shul, open the Aron Kodesh, and recall the whole incident. Afterward, announce that you grant Reb Aryeh the s’char of that mitzva — willingly, and that will enable him to find peace.”
And so he did. Recalling the episode before the Sefer Torah caused R’ Akiva to revisit the old, heavy nostalgia. He voiced everything that the Rebbe instructed, and weepingly he ran home to finish sobbing. In his house, he fell asleep, and in a dream Reb Aryeh revisited him — this time with his face glowing from joy. He wholeheartedly thanked R’ Akiva for giving him the reward, and then disappeared.
After he awoke, R’ Akiva returned to the Rebbe to report the conclusion of the story. The Rebbe was moved to tears. “This man was a tzaddik and a talmid chacham,” the Rebbe said. “And the reward that he is getting Up There is definitely eternal. Yet, he left That Place all to request the reward of just one mitzva! One who is killed al kiddush Hashem gets himself a free pass to Gan Eden, and he was still concerned over that achilas matza.
“How lucky we are that we are still in this world and can do so many mitzvos — with each of them being eternal. The reward for every mitzva is infinite. Cash in while the supplies last. There is no limit.”
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