Rabbi Yekusiel Yehuda Halberstam, known by all as the sainted founding Sanz-Klausenberger Rebbe zt’l (1905-1994) lost everything in the Shoah: his wife, his 11 children and most of his beloved Chassidim. His whole town of Klausenberg (Romania) was sent to Aushwitz and the rebbe survived Mengele’s fatal finger and was sent to work. After several death marches and near executions, the Rebbe survived the war. The heavens realized that the Rebbe’s services were needed and made sure that amid the tragedy and pain around him, he would survive. After the war, he began rebuilding Sanz-Klausenberg chassidus in the DP camps, which eventually led to his founding Kiryat Sanz in Israel and his remarrying and having seven children.

The Rebbe was once asked how people such as him were able to rebuild their lives despite the acute catastrophes that surrounded their lives.

The Rebbe answered, “it is in the two words, b’damayich chayi (because of your blood you should live – Yechezkel 16:6). These words are recited twice at a bris (where blood is let) and at the Seder, describing the blood of the sacrificial lamb, the korban Pesach. We know the sacrifices, the blood, the fire and the pillars of smoke (see Yoel 3:3) associated with the Shoah; but why did the Rebbe choose these words to describe the mettle and fortitude of those Jews, such as him, who were able to survive and thrive?

The Rebbe explained. The word damayich (your blood) also alludes to Aaron’s reaction to the death of his two eldest sons Nadav and Avihu. The Torah records, vayidom Aharon, Aharon became silent (Vayikra 10:3). The Rebbe interprets the verse in Yechezkel as ‘we will survive because of our silence.’

Rabbi Paysach Krohn tells this story in his masterpiece, “In the Spirit of the Maggid” (pp. 317-318). He concludes it with this thought:

People surviving the Holocaust could have focused on the negatives in their lives and remain broken. They could not have continuously voiced their anger, frustration and emptiness. They could have thrown up their hands and claimed that their lives are over. They had no future. Everything went up in flames in Europe. Instead there were those who were ‘silent’ about the horrors. They focused on building and the opportunity to build a positive future. ‘Because of their silence’ – not focusing on the negative – they would live and build.

Less than one chapter after Aharon’s heroic and courageous catatonic moment, Rashi uses the same language to describe the transmission of the kosher laws.

"וידבר ה' אל משה ואל אהרן לאמר אליהם. דברו אל בני ישראל לאמר זאת החיה אשר תאכלו מכל הבהמה אשר על הארץ" (ויקרא י"א:א-ב).

‘HASHEM spoke to Moshe and Aharon, telling them. Speak to the Children of Israel and say to them, this is the animal you may eat from all the beasts of the land’ (Vayikra 11:1-2). Rashi comments on the fact that Moshe and Aaron, to whom HASHEM appeared, were told to repeat everything to ‘them.’

"את כלם השוה להיות שלוחים בדבור זה לפי שהשוו בדמימה וקבלו עליהם גזרת המקום מאהבה"

He made them all equal as messengers from God to the Children of Israel because they were all equal in their silence (see Toras Kohanim 1:1). They all accepted the decree of the Omnipresent upon themselves with love.

Every commentator on Rashi understands his comment ‘all of them’ as referring to Moshe, Aharon and his remaining two sons Elazar and Itamar. I have no reason to think that Rashi thought of anything else.

But the first time I read this Rashi, I thought that it may refer to all of Israel. After all, HASHEM speaks to Moshe and Aharon and instructs them to tell ‘them.’ To whom? Well, the next few words, one could argue, are the answer: ‘speak to the Children of Israel.’ Perhaps all of Israel was silent when they heard or even witnessed the dramatic death of the sons of Aharon. Aside from the day of kriyas yam suf (the splitting of the Red Sea) or the day of Matan Torah (Revelation), the day on which Nadav and Avihu died may have been the greatest day in their young liberated history. It was opening day – l’havdil – for the Mishkan. It was its first day of operations.

Imagine that the centerpiece of the pomp of opening Yankee stadium in 2009 featured a legendary Yankee of past or present parachuting onto the pitcher’s mound from a plane. Imagine if 60,0000 pairs of eyes followed the jump high over the stadium and God forbid, the parachute did not open and the assembled then witnessed a most horrific and macabre death, which was carried to millions on live television. The death of Nadav and Avihu most certainly had that type of impact on Klal Yisrael.

While there are many opinions why Nadav and Avihu’s lives were snuffed out on that most hallowed day, all agree that they were righteous, and that the death of the righteous atones. Perhaps the silence here refers to everyone who witnessed it, who stood catatonically in shock, but with their faith unshaken.

We can demonstrate our faith in public moments or in the most private of moments. The Klausenberger Rebbe conducted prayer services and his chassidishe tisches in the midst of the fires of the Shoah. In Aushwitz, the Rebbe used the little amount of water he obtained to wash his hands for prayer; he refused to eat unkosher food or even kosher food cooked in unkosher food (which is also unkosher); he refused to shave his beard and wore a kerchief around his face hiding it. To help his charade, he cried all day in ‘pain’ really reciting prayers and tehillim. In the Muldorf Labor Camp, the Rebbe refused to work on Shabbos and was beaten. As a result he was made custodian of the bunker, where he swept and kept it tidy, allowing him to pray all day long.  After liberation, in the Feldafing DP camp in Munich, the Rebbe tried to faciliate the burial of the Jewish corpses all around them and cared for the survivors whom he labeled she’eris hapleitah, the remnant of the survivors. He set up a system of Yeshiva schooling for 19 DP camps and arranged for kosher shechitah (ritual slaughter), mikvaos, writs for women whose husbands disappeared without proof, trying to allow these poor widows to remarry, he officiated at marriages and distributed tzitzis, tefillin and mezuzos.

B’damayich Chayi. When we quietly live our heroic lives as Jews, by keeping kosher, and observing God’s mitzvos, we too can be heroes. The Jewish hero does not question the Almighty, but his silence is not limited to questioning. He also does not publicize his great acts of sacrifice. His dmama includes his modesty about his heroism. When we are silent, we emulate the stillness of the Ribbono shel Olam:

"ויאמר צא ועמדת בהר לפני ה' והנה ה' עובר ורוח גדולה וחזק מפרק הרים ומשבר סלעים לפני ה' לא ברוח ה', ואחר הרוח רעש לא ברעש ה'. ואחר הרעש אש לא באש ה' ואחר האש קול דממה דקה" (מלאכים א' י"ט:י"א-י"ב)

“The word of HASHEM then said, ‘Go out of the cave and stand on the mountain before HASHEM. And behold, HASHEM was passing, and a great, powerful wind, smashing mountains and breaking rocks, went before HASHEM. ‘HASHEM is not in the wind!’ (Eliyahu was told). After the wind came an earthquake. ‘HASHEM is not in the earthquake.’ After the earthquake came a fire. ‘HASHEM is not in the fire.’ After the fire came a still, thin sound.

This still thin sound, this kol dmama daka, is the sound of God and the sound of those whom he loves.

Whether one observes Yom Hashoah this coming week or not, every time is opportune to recall the silent strength of the Klausenberger Rebbe zt’l zchuso yagein aleinu, may his merit shield us.