On Wednesday night we had the privilege of hosting Holocaust Survivor, Saul Dreier at the JPAC. He shared his story, his music, and his infectious positive approach to life with the hundreds in the audience. Kudos to Rabbi Mendel and Chaya Mushka Ceitlin for being the driving force behind this event. Photos will be shared when they are made available to us. Many audience members enthusiastically shared video clips and photos on social media.
I would like to share with you my words of introduction at the event. The message is a both powerful and relevant.
By Divine Providence tonight’s event comes on the heels of Tisha B’av, the National Day of Mourning for the Jewish people, most prominently for the destruction of the first and second Holy Temples in Jerusalem, 2,500 and 2,000 years ago. Yesterday we mourned for all the tragedies that have befallen our people over our nearly 3,500-year history, among them by the Babylonians, the Persians, the Greeks, the Romans, the Crusaders, the Spanish Inquisition, the Pogroms of Eastern Europe and the Middle East, the Holocaust, and of course the recent October 7 attack in Israel.
As we read the Biblical Book of Lamentations and a series of haunting elegies describing the tragedies of our people, two things struck me. The first was how eerily similar the descriptions of those tragedies were to the experiences of the victims on October 7. The cruelty towards and dehumanization of our people was repeated over and over in each successive tragic episode of persecution.
The second was how the Book of Lamentations and each of the mournful elegies ends with a message of hope and optimism for the future. This attitude is reflected in the life of our honored guest Saul Dreier, who refused to allow dehumanization to steal his zest for life. From where do we draw this strength? I answer by way of a story.
Elie Wiesel, Holocaust survivor, author and Nobel laureate was approached by an audience member following a talk. “I was wondering if perhaps you might have known or met my father who happened to in Buchenwald at the same time as you?”
When the woman mentioned her father’s name, tears came to the Wiesel’s eyes. “Did I know your father? Not only were we in the same camp, but we were also in the same barracks. Now let me tell you about your father.
When I was at Buchenwald, like many, I contemplated suicide. The difference between me and the others, was that I had managed to get hold of some poison and had the wherewithal to bring my suffering to an end. One day I came into the barracks with a plan to ingest the ‘magic potion’ that would finally bring me peace.
When I entered, your father was there, and do you know what he was doing? What he always did. He was singing! He had such a sweet voice, and he loved to sing. On that day, he was singing a song I remembered from back home — a different place, a different world. Even in those putrid barracks, his voice was so piercing — so moving, so rich, so alive. I challenged him, ‘how can you sing in a miserable place like this?’ Your father then turned to me and said, ‘Eli, all I have is my song and this they cannot take away from me. These animals can take away our limbs and our bodies, but they cannot take away our song.
Do you hear? They cannot take away our song — unless we let them.’ He then resumed his singing, in his beautiful voice. His song was his resistance, his small act of defiance and strength. And so, I made it my own. I am alive today because of your father’s resistance.”
Friends, the song is an expression of the soul, a spirit that is inherently free. It is that spirit that imbues us with the strength to look towards the hope of an illuminated future – a time when the world will know only peace and harmony, the time of which our prophets spoke and yearned, the time of Redemption. May our world experience this very soon.
Shabbat Shalom
Rabbi Mendel Rivkin