He told me that today was Chanukah and we celebrate the victory of the few weak over the many powerful oppressors. We light the candles to demonstrate that our light is stronger than any darkness. "Your father would be very proud to know that you carry on his light despite the blackness around us," he said.
I was so moved by his words - and all the memories it brought back from my earlier years in Lodz - that I suggested to him enthusiastically that we should light the menorah tonight. He sort of smiled to me, the child - a smile hardly concealing his deep anguish - and said that it would be too dangerous to try. I insisted and made off to get some machine oil from the factory.
I was so excited. And for this brief moment I was able to put aside my grief. I slowly made my way back, so not to be noticed, to the barrack with my treasured bit of oil. Meanwhile the strange gentleman had put together some wicks, apparently from clothing or some other material.
Now we needed fire to light our makeshift menorah. I noticed at the end of one building smoldering cinders. We agreed that we would wait till dusk and at an opportune moment we would light our Chanukah lights
Wait we did. As we were walking over to the cinders a guard noticed us and grabbed away the oil and wicks we were concealing. He began cursing and frothing at us. A miracle seemed to happen when his superior barked a command that apparently needed his participation, and he ran off with our precious fuel.
The miracle however was short-lived. The animal yelled back at us that he would soon return to "take care of us."
I was terrified. The gentleman was absolutely serene. And then he said to me words that are etched into my every fiber until this very day:
"Tonight we have lit a flame more powerful than the Chanukah lights. The miracle of Chanukah consisted of finding one crucible of oil, which miraculously burned for eight days. Tonight we performed an even greater miracle: We lit the ninth invisible candle even when we had no oil...
"Make no mistake. We did light the Menorah tonight. We did everything in our power to kindle the flames, and every effort is recognized by G-d. He knows that we were deprived by forces that were not in our control, so in some deeper way we lit the Menorah. We have lit the ninth flame - the most powerful one of all, so powerful that you can't even see it."
The man then promised me: "You will get out of here alive. And when you do, take this ninth invisible flame with you. Tell G-d that we lit a candle even when we had no oil.
"Tell the world of the light that has emerged even from the darkest of darkness. We had no physical oil and no spiritual oil. We were wretched creatures, treated worse than animals. Yet, in some miraculous way, we found a 'crucible' where none existed - in the hell fires of Auschwitz.
"So there was no oil. Not even defiled oil. No oil, period. Yet we still lit a flame - a flame fueled by the pits of darkness. We never gave up. Let the world know that our ninth flame is alive and shining. Tell every person in despair that the flame never goes out."
As he finished these last words, the Nazi beast returned and viciously led him away behind one of the barracks.
I made my escape. A few weeks later the Russians arrived and we were liberated. Here I am today to tell you the story of the ‘ninth flame.’
