The story is told about a daughter and a father. The dad, a great Rosh Yeshivah, died in Auschwitz. Enraged with her people and angry with G-d, she abandoned her faith and raised her son in church.
One night, a loud knock caught her by surprise. And her father’s student she saw standing by the door. “What do you want Yosef Meir, to brig hell back to me?”
“Your father’s wish I came to convey, that his descendants continue in the path that he trod, the path for which he and so many gave up their life.
“The path of death, the path of pain?” Don’t waste your time, go back to Shul. For far from this vision and far from tradition, my son and I built a home where suffering doesn’t exist, away from the enemy and far from our legacy.
“One more thing, please hear me out!” he said. “If you think you’re fooling Hitler, while being so hidden, know that that is his victory, our identity destroying. It’s in your hands now, you decide who wins this war, reacting to the enemy’s plan or keeping your father’s wishes alive.
With tears in her eyes, hearing the truth in his words, she left with her only son to the one land and joined the only people who win with this unique revenge.
The revenge of those who overcome with dignity and last through eternity.
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Some people leave an empty chair by the Sedder table in memory of the six million who perished in the war. I’m all for it, but let’s have that chair filled and remember them with life.
Pessach is still a couple of months away but when millions have been lost it’s never too early to have a sweet revenge.