The Eternal Reward of a Single Mitzvah: A Holocaust Story That Reveals the Infinite Power of One Good Deed

“Be careful with a minor mitzvah as with a major one, for you do not know the reward of the commandments.” (Pirkei Avot 2:1)

Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi teaches: “Be as careful with a light commandment as with a weighty one, for you do not know the reward of the mitzvot. And calculate the loss of a mitzvah against its reward, and the gain of a sin against its loss.”

We must never overlook any mitzvah, even one that seems “minor,” as we have no way of measuring the true spiritual value of each commandment. What appears to us as small or insignificant might be the very mitzvah that opens the gates of eternal reward.

The Mishnah continues: when facing a choice, weigh the temporary inconvenience of performing a mitzvah — time, effort, money, or even social discomfort — against the infinite reward it brings.

Likewise, when tempted by wrongdoing, we are to weigh the apparent pleasure or gain of money, popularity, or comfort, against the immense spiritual loss and punishment it causes in the World to Come.

If a person pauses to make this simple calculation before acting, they will always choose what is truly profitable and right.

The Reward of a Mitzvah: A Story from the Holocaust

During the Holocaust, in a concentration camp in Hungary, the Nazis murdered an entire Jewish family, leaving one survivor — a man who was sent to Auschwitz. In his barrack was a pious, learned Jew who knew the entire prayer book by heart and could calculate the Hebrew calendar.

As the month of Nisan approached, the scholar said to him: “It’s Nisan now — Passover is coming. Bitter herbs we have in abundance… but what about matzah?”

That year, Allied forces had bombed a grain warehouse nearby. A few starving prisoners decided to risk their lives and sneak out to gather wheat to bake matzah.

The Hungarian Jew volunteered for the mission. He managed to slip out unnoticed, collect some grain, grind it with stones, and — by some miracle, bake a few small matzot.

As he tried to smuggle them back into the camp, a Gestapo officer stopped him, searched his body, found the matzot, and beat him mercilessly until he lost consciousness.

When he awoke, battered and bleeding, he searched the ground and found only a few broken pieces — barely enough for kezayit, the halachic minimum for fulfilling the mitzvah of eating matzah (about 30 grams).

He told his friend what had happened. The scholar begged him tearfully: “Please, let me fulfill the mitzvah of eating matzah! Give it to me, and I will recite the entire Haggadah for you.”

After much pleading, the man agreed — but on one condition: “You may eat the matzah, but the reward for the mitzvah will remain mine.”

The deal was made. The scholar ate the matzah that night with trembling joy — and not long after Passover, he was murdered al kiddush Hashem (sanctifying God’s name).

The man who had given away his matzah survived the war and eventually immigrated to Israel. Years later, in 1978, that same righteous scholar appeared to him in a dream, weeping and pleading: “You gave me the matzah in Auschwitz, but you kept the reward. Please, I beg you — give me the reward for the mitzvah as well.”

A Rabbi’s Response: The Power of Letting Go

Disturbed, the survivor went to the Rebbe of Machnovka and told him the story through tears. “Should I give him the reward for the mitzvah?” he asked.

The Rebbe replied: “According to the attribute of fairness and kindness, yes — you should relinquish the reward as well.”

The man asked, “Why?”

The Rebbe explained: “You lived a long life and had the opportunity to perform countless mitzvot. But your friend, who died young in the Holocaust, had no more chances. It is only right that you give him this one.”

The Rebbe then handed him two keys and said: “Take these — one to my study hall, and one to the Holy Ark. Go there alone. Open the Ark, close the curtain behind you, and speak to God. Tell the entire story in full detail, without holding back. Then, out loud, say that you relinquish the reward for the mitzvah of eating the matzah to your friend. When you’re done, come back to me.”

The man did as instructed. He entered the synagogue, opened the Ark, and poured out his heart — retelling the story in tears, repeating several times that he was giving up the reward. When he finished, he felt weak and drained, handed the keys to the attendant, and went home to rest.

That night, the departed scholar appeared to him again in a dream — radiant and smiling, shining with joy — to thank him.

When the man returned to the Rebbe and shared what he had seen, the Rebbe said: “Now you see. That righteous scholar, a man who knew Torah by heart and died sanctifying God’s name after a life of suffering, still came to beg you for the merit of just one mitzvah. Do you now understand what a single mitzvah is worth?”

Never Underestimate the Power of a Single Act

We can never measure the value of a mitzvah. A single act — a prayer, a kind word, a moment of faith, one helping hand, may carry unimaginable weight in the spiritual realms.

Every choice counts and every mitzvah has infinite worth. Sometimes, the smallest deed performed in hardship is worth more than a lifetime of ease.