A Promise Kept Across Worlds: A Survivor, a Crushed Piece of Matzah, and a Dream 33 Years Later

In a special conversation Rabbi Yisrael Meir Shoshan gave to the 'Dirshu' website, he tells, in his flowing, captivating style, a remarkable story that won’t leave you unmoved: the immense reward for mitzvot. Here’s the story:

The rabbi of the Chatam Sofer community synagogue in Bnei Brak was Rabbi Ungar, of blessed memory. The synagogue had 350 worshippers, most of them Holocaust survivors with blue numbers tattooed on their arms.

Akiva Steinberg, one of the congregants of the Chatam Sofer synagogue in Bnei Brak, was a Holocaust survivor. In the years of terror in Europe he lost his wife and six children and was left a young, penniless 30-year-old, utterly alone.

One morning, when he was 60, Akiva came to the synagogue’s rabbi, Rabbi Ungar, shaking with tears. "Rabbi, I had a terrible dream last night," he said, still weeping. "But before I can tell it to you, I need to tell you my history."

"I arrived at Auschwitz in Cheshvan 5705. I lost my entire family the day I got there. I was sent immediately to brutal forced labor in a coal factory. At the end of the first day’s work there—still within the first 24 hours after my wife and six children were murdered—I lay on the bunk broken and in despair."

"Suddenly I felt a gentle touch on my shoulder. It was an avrech named Reb Aryeh. 'Akiva,' he said to me, 'we haven’t learned anything today; let’s learn something.'"

"Reb Aryeh had lost his eight children that very day. He was a talmid chacham and knew Gemara by heart. We began learning together, and Reb Aryeh simply brought me back to life. I felt in my own flesh the meaning of the verse: 'For they are our life... and about them we meditate day and night.'"

"One evening in Adar, as I lay on the bunk, Reb Aryeh said to me: 'Akiva, in a little less than a month it will be Pesach—how will we eat a kezayit of matzah? How will we fulfill "In the evening you shall eat matzot"?!' 'Reb Aryeh,' I cried in despair, 'what are you talking about—we’re in Auschwitz! Where will we get matzah here?'"

"'Akiva,' Reb Aryeh answered me gently, 'Don’t say that. We may be in Auschwitz, but Hashem can do anything. "Habah l'taher mesayin oto." Don’t worry—we will yet merit to eat a kezayit of matzah...'"

"All that night the bombings didn’t stop. Enemy planes bombed the munitions depots. The next day—Purim—as we marched as usual to work, we discovered that two bombs had fallen on the wheat warehouse. It was a massive storage building that held tons of wheat intended to feed the German army. The wheat was scattered across the whole area like a magical carpet of kernels. It was astonishing: how we had dreamt the day before of just a little wheat—and now the whole area around us was covered in wheat."

"When we returned from work late at night, I hurried to bend down and gather two handfuls—one for me and one for Reb Aryeh. Reb Aryeh was the happiest man alive."

Akiva goes on to describe to Rabbi Ungar how they found stones, ground the wheat with them, and turned it into flour. "Every night we ground, until the 5th of Nisan. We hurried to prepare the dough: water, flour, a quick knead—and the dough was ready. We rolled out the matzah quickly, and with a nail we made holes in it. We carefully removed the sheet of metal from the oven with a rag, pressed the dough onto it, and within three minutes we had a mehadrinmatzah. We prepared two kezayitim for each of us. I hid the matzah under my shirt, and we returned to the camp, my hand pressed to my body, guarding the precious matzah."

(צילום: shutterstock)

"Let’s make a deal: I’ll eat the matzah, and you get the reward"

"When we reached the camp," Akiva continues, "one of the guards noticed my strange posture and shouted: 'Zhid, what are you hiding there?' With a sharp motion he yanked my hand away from my body, and fragments of matzah fell silently onto the frozen ground."

The Nazi didn’t stop there; with his studded boots he crushed the matzah to dust. For good measure he also struck Aryeh with terrible blows. "I collapsed onto the matzah and lost consciousness. After four minutes I came to. I was in agony, shattered—but I remembered that beneath me was a treasure. Matzah, crushed yes, but with it one can still fulfill the mitzvah of eating matzah. Bleeding all over, I crawled to the bunk with the precious treasure in my hand," Akiva continues.

"I returned to the bunk and, aching all over, showed Reb Aryeh that only one kezayit remained. Reb Aryeh burst into tears: 'You brought the wheat, you took the blows for the matzah—but please, have mercy on me. How will I get through Seder night without eating a kezayit of matzah?'"

"'Reb Aryeh,' I answered firmly, 'I’ll give up my supper tomorrow and the day after—but the matzah—your life comes first. I’m not giving it up!'"

"Reb Aryeh pleaded: 'Akiva, please, give me the matzah. I will say with you the entire Haggadah, word by word, from Ha Lachma Anya to Chad Gadya. I’m begging you—give me the matzah!' 'No way; the matzah is mine!' I insisted."

"Then Aryeh straightened up. 'You know what? Let’s make a deal. I’ll eat the matzah, and you will get the reward—the great reward of "Lefum tza'ara agra."' I agreed to the deal: he eats, and the reward is mine."

Seder night arrived. "We returned from work broken and crushed; four cups we did not have; matzah—barely crumbs of a kezayit. But maror—that we all had in abundance. We lay together on the bunk and recited the Haggadah through terrible tears," Akiva relates.

"I couldn’t hold out anymore and fell asleep from weeping and exhaustion, but Reb Aryeh, who had eaten matzah, couldn’t fall asleep from the intensity of it all. And can you take it lightly? He merited to eat a kezayit of matzah in the valley of the shadow of death—in Auschwitz.

"Toward morning he began to daven Shacharit in a quiet outpouring of thanks. During Hallel he already forgot where he was; when he said 'Asher kid’shanu' he cried out from the depths of his pure heart. The German guard sprang up, pressed his pistol to Aryeh’s head, and pulled the trigger. His pure and refined soul departed in Kiddush Hashem, on the first day of Pesach."

"I was shattered to pieces," Akiva says through tears. "Reb Aryeh was my rabbi, my spiritual father; he held me up in that dreadful Gehinnom. How could I survive without him? Hashem gave me enormous strength for thirty more days. On the 17th of Iyar the Americans arrived. The war was over. I weighed 36 kilos—skin and bones. I could no longer find any taste in life."

"But Hashem, the Father of mercies, Himself revives the dead. Slowly I recovered. I built a home again; with Hashem's help I merited four children and ten grandchildren—may they increase."

"Last night, Reb Aryeh appeared in my dream—radiant and awe-inspiring"

"Last night—33 years after that awe-filled Seder night—the holy Reb Aryeh came to me in a dream, dressed in a white kittel."

"'Where are you, Reb Aryeh?' I cried. 'I am in a place of pure light,' he replied. 'I merited to be killed in Kiddush Hashem. For 33 years I have been waiting for the chance to come to you. Today, for the first time, I received permission. Akiva, for all the mitzvot I performed in this world I have enormous reward, but for one mitzvah I performed here in this world I still have no reward: the mitzvah of eating matzah on Seder night 5705. Because we had an agreement between us: I eat the matzah and the reward goes to Akiva.'"

"'Akiva, if you forgo that reward—then I can receive the reward for this tremendous mitzvah. I beg you: please, waive it to me!'"

I answered him: "Aryeh, I will give you anything you ask—but the reward for a mitzvah? I’m not willing!" Reb Aryeh left me with a sad face, and that’s how I woke up," Akiva tells Rabbi Ungar, and then he asks: "Should I give in to him? After all, I’m the one who took the blows for the matzah; I brought the wheat; a deal is a deal—why should I give up? On the other hand, Aryeh’s soul pleaded so much..."

Rabbi Ungar hears the question and is silent. At last he says, "A question like this should be put to a tzaddik from the previous generation. Go to the Rebbe of Makhnovka, a holy Jew of self-sacrifice, and ask him."

The Rebbe of Makhnovka hears the story and answers softly: "In simple fairness—you should forgo." He explains: "Thirty-three years have passed since that story. Have you tried to count how many blessings you have merited to say in the last 33 years? How many mitzvot—putting on tefillin, Shabbats—and you will go on and on for the rest of your life. But poor Reb Aryeh—he has no more opportunities. Isn’t it right to yield this merit to him?"

Akiva heard the Rebbe's words and immediately replied, "If so, I forgo the reward." But the Rebbe of Makhnovka was not satisfied: "Go into the nearby synagogue, open the Holy Ark, and there, beside the Torah scrolls, proclaim with a full voice and a whole heart your forgiveness."

It was midnight. Akiva entered the synagogue at midnight and, before the Torah scrolls in the Holy Ark, he declared: "Master of the Universe, I forgo to Reb Aryeh, with a full heart, the reward for eating matzah on Pesach 5705."

Exhausted, Akiva returned home and collapsed on his bed, drained and full of thoughts. That night again he was astonished to see Reb Aryeh in a dream, his face shining greatly: "Yasher koach, Akiva! The waiver was accepted. I thank you from the depths of my heart. Because of you, they elevated me to such heights. I have no words to thank you."

The next morning Akiva returned to the Rebbe of Makhnovka and told him about the second dream. In response, the Rebbe burst into tears. "You’ve told me about a holy Jew who endured the sufferings of Job, lived in holiness and purity, knew Shas, and is in Gan Eden in the loftiest place—and it is worth it to him to leave the entire World to Come, to come down here and plead for one more mitzvah, because there he cannot perform it. And we live here in this world, with mitzvot rolling all around us, within easy reach. And what will we say Above?! One day we will be called to account for all the opportunities we had. Let’s seize every moment we’re here to grab mitzvot."

"Let’s cherish mitzvot, let’s not miss the opportunities that come our way—and may we merit to pack our satchels full for the World to Come," Rabbi Shoshan concludes.