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During the High Holidays of the year 5700, 1939 of the Common Era, the German army was completing its conquest of Poland. Yom Kippur fell on Shabbat that year, as it did this year, and by that time most of the Jews in the vicinity of Warsaw had fled before the advancing hordes of the destroyers. The city of Warsaw was besieged and shelled mercilessly, bringing about the deaths of tens of thousands of Jews who didn’t have adequate shelter, and who didn’t understand at the time that they’d been spared a more horrible fate.
Among these was the only son of the Piaseczna Rebbe, the Aish Kodesh, R’ Elimelech Bentzion Shapira, Hy”d. On Wednesday, erev chag, he was mortally wounded by German shelling of the Jewish quarter. He clung to life until the end of the second day of Sukkot, on Friday. When he realized he was about to pass from this world, he asked for a cup of wine to make kiddush for Shabbat; then he expired with his father at his side. On each of the following two years when the Aish Kodesh recorded his teachings from the Warsaw Ghetto, on the second day of Sukkot he gave a special sermon dedicated to the memory of his son.
The Aish Kodesh cites the Gemara in Sanhedrin (47a), which in the context of a broader discussion of death and burial addresses a difficult text from Tehillim (79:1-2). The Psalmist (presumably Asaf) bemoans the cruel fate of the fallen of Israel, referring to the carrion of (Hashem’s) servants, the flesh of His righteous ones. The Gemara says that the servants here represent those who were subject to the death penalty, and the righteous ones (“chassidecha”) aren’t necessarily those who were righteous.
This is a cryptic statement that is not elucidated in the Gemara; however, the ensuing discussion concerns those who sacrifice themselves for the sanctification of the Divine name. The Aish Kodesh explains that this psalm is describing all those who were murdered by the enemies of Israel for being Jewish. Those who might have been deserving of death anyway are elevated in their deaths to the level of “your servants,” while those who were righteous in life are recalled as “your righteous ones.” Indeed, chassidim is the highest praise we find for the truly righteous in the written Torah.
Is it true then that one elevates oneself to the level of the most righteous simply by sacrificing one’s life for the sanctification of the Name? The Aish Kodesh teaches that the language of chassidut that characterizes such an individual describes the highest level of kindness towards one’s fellow. If somebody is deeply religious, upright, and honest but is not truly kind, then he must work on his character until he attains this attribute. The Gemara here is hinting to us that there is something inherent in the act of martyrdom that is a supreme kindness.
The Aish Kodesh points out that the second day of Sukkot, the beginning of the Simchat Beit Hashoeva in the Beit HaMikdash, is the night of the ushipzin of Yitzchak Avinu. Yitzchak is traditionally associated with gevura, with the wielding and accepting of judgment – so how does he come to be identified with the drawing of the water which exemplifies the mercy of Hashem for the whole year? This honor comes to Yitzchak and not to Avraham, who is more commonly identified with chesed, because, says, the Aish Kodesh, Yitzchak was moser nefesh; he had the intent of sacrificing his life on the altar his father built at the Akeida. He did this not for his own glory or out of love and respect for his father either, but for the sake of all the future generations of Israel, who would be judged favorably in exchange for his supreme sacrifice. In the event, Yitzchak was not slain, but his intent was so great that he carried the merit of the act as if it were completed, and he is distinguished forever by his all-encompassing love of Israel.
Although the malach stayed Avraham’s hand and Yitzchak was not slaughtered, in ensuing generations including our own, countless other holy and righteous Jews have given their lives for the sanctification of G-d’s Name. When Yitzchak had the intention of giving his own life, he also sanctified all these other lives that would be given in the fullness of time so that each and every one of the holy martyrs becomes part of the sacrifice of Yitzchak and elicits the Divine mercy that speeds the redemption. This is why the parsha of the Akeida is introduced with the words, “And it came to pass after these things, that Hashem tested Avraham.” After all these things in the future, until the end of the last exile – such that all the sacrifices are remembered as one great sacrifice that was not in vain.
The Aish Kodesh tied this teaching into the experience of his own generation, and although we cannot begin to imagine the magnitude of the trial and the nobility of the martyrdom they undertook for our sake, we have had a small taste of our own in the past year which was evidently all we as a generation could handle. In any event, we hope and pray that the worst is behind us. The words of the Aish Kodesh will be particularly meaningful to us as we approach the yahrzeit of the first of the victims of the terrible year of decrees that began on Simchat Torah. Therefore, they are translated here and brought in their entirety:
“It is on a day such as this and in times such as these that we must begin the process of true teshuva (of returning to Hashem). Because even when animals are sacrificed (in the Beit HaMikdash), this is a warning and a reminder to us to repent. How much more is it the case when the sacrifices are as holy as those that have so recently been given. If G-d-forbid we were not to repent, if we did not accept upon ourselves a commitment to serve Hashem completely from this moment forward, the souls of these righteous individuals in the elevated station they have achieved in the heavens above would be asking, ‘If so, then for what did we sacrifice ourselves?’”
At the conclusion of his sermon, the Aish Kodesh returned to this principle and reversed it. The souls of the righteous martyrs call upon us to be more diligent and heartfelt in our service of Hashem. But they also cry out to Hashem on our behalf, so that even if we are not worthy of His salvation from the dangers that assail us, He must act in their merit. If it is judgment that He must mete out, like the judgment of Yitzchak, then these righteous individuals already accepted that judgment as Yitzchak did, the chassidim who gave their lives out of the pure love of Israel. Since they took the judgment and the destruction onto their own lives and bodies, Hashem should act with mercy towards those of us who remain, forgive us our trespasses, and save us from the threats and the troubles that afflict us.