One Grandfather’s Words Gave Strength as His Family Faced the End

It was during the darkest time in Jewish history—the Holocaust. The Nazis came to the Jewish town of Trochenbrod and rounded up all the residents. They led them into the nearby forest, where they were to be murdered and buried in a mass grave.

Among those standing there, just moments before their lives were to be taken, were 30 members of the Gitelman family. The family patriarch, Reb Dov, stood surrounded by his sons, daughters-in-law, daughters, sons-in-law, and all of his grandchildren.

It’s hard to imagine the terror in that moment—the deep helplessness of a Jew facing death with his entire family, knowing that soon not a single trace of them would remain.

But Reb Dov, in a moment of extraordinary inner strength and emunah (faith), turned to his beloved family and the other Jews gathered there. With calm and courage, he said, “Don’t be afraid. It takes only a moment, and soon we will be with Hashem.”

This moving testimony was shared by one of the few survivors who escaped that horrific site. He later told the story to Reb Dov’s son, Rabbi Yitzchak Gitelman—the only surviving member of that once-large and proud family.

There is another story of quiet Jewish heroism that took place in the Kovno Ghetto. A thousand Jewish children were to be deported. One desperate father knew he could bribe the Kapo (a prisoner appointed by the Nazis to supervise other prisoners) to release his son. But he also understood that the Nazis demanded a fixed number—if his son were freed, another Jewish child would be taken in his place.

Heartbroken, the father went to Rabbi Ephraim Oshry for guidance. “Can I do it?” he asked. “Is it allowed to save my son this way?” The Rabbi was torn. “It’s a life-and-death question,” he replied. “I don’t have my books, and I don’t know what the halacha (Jewish law) says. I honestly don’t know how to answer you.”

The father thought for a moment and then said, “If the Rabbi can’t say it’s permitted… then it must be forbidden.” Rabbi Oshry tried to explain again how difficult the question was, how complicated and serious. But the man stood firm. “I won’t save my son by letting another child be taken. I can’t do that.”

This was true moral courage. Not something humanly ordinary—but something rare and holy. These quiet choices, made in impossible circumstances, are like diamonds in the story of our people. They reflect the highest level of dignity, integrity, and compassion.

Even during the Holocaust—those years when human cruelty reached unbearable extremes—the Jewish spirit reached incredible heights. Yes, we suffered. But we also rose. These Jews did not go like sheep to the slaughter. They stood tall, holding onto their faith, their values, and the divine image within them.

They remind us what it means to be truly human.