During the Holocaust, a young boy and his uncle survived together in the Nazi death camps for two years. The uncle was a Hasidic scholar from Kozhnitz who had achieved something remarkable – he knew the entire Talmud by heart. Even in the camps, he never stopped studying it, whispering its words as he labored.
One night, the uncle called his nephew to him. “You know that I have never stopped learning, even here,” he said. “But now my strength is gone, and I won’t survive another day. I’m currently studying Tractate Moed Katan, page 7. I want you to swear – if God grants you the chance to leave this place alive, please complete this tractate for me.” That night, the uncle died.
I grew up with this story, but until this year, I never truly understood its meaning. On October 7, 2023, Hamas terrorists murdered over 1,200 people, the greatest disaster for the Jewish people since the Holocaust. The victims were our brothers and sisters – at a festival, in their homes, in their synagogues.
What would those we lost ask of us now? Like the uncle’s final request to complete his tractate, perhaps they would say: “Continue living for us. Dance for us. Learn for us.”
Our sages teach that those who die al kiddush Hashem – sanctifying God’s name – reach a level in heaven where no other soul can stand. We need not worry about their eternal rest. Instead, we who remain here carry a responsibility: to live fully, to learn deeply, to celebrate joyfully.
Every time we study the Bible, share a Shabbat meal, or celebrate a holiday, we affirm life. When we discuss the weekly portion of the Bible, when we study the commentaries, when we debate a biblical idea at the dinner table – these aren’t just academic exercises. They are acts of memory and renewal, continuing the work of those who no longer can.
Rabbi Baruch Ber Leibowitz once heard someone praise Torah as “our air to breathe.” He corrected them: “Air is important – it keeps us alive. But Torah is life itself.”
This message speaks to all who value life and learning, whether Jewish or Christian. Consider Noah’s parents, who named their son saying:
They couldn’t have known that Noah would grow to be righteous – they simply believed in him. At a painful time in world history, they placed their hope in a child who might bring more light into the world.
Now, as we face our own difficult days, we’re called to add more holiness to our lives, not less. To learn more, not less. To celebrate more, not less. The blood of our brothers and sisters calls out for vengeance, certainly – but also for life. We honor their memory not through grief alone, but through living with purpose and joy.
Just as that young boy carried forward his uncle’s legacy through learning, today we see the families of October 7th’s victims carrying forward their loved ones’ light. Parents completing their children’s unfinished projects, siblings continuing their brothers’ and sisters’ charitable work, widows raising children with the values their heroic husbands held dear. Like that nephew in the camps who promised to complete the tractate, these families have taken up the sacred task of continuing their loved ones’ life work. Even in our deepest grief, we can choose to be the bearers of those we’ve lost – not just through remembrance, but through action.
May their memory be for a blessing, and may we be worthy to complete their tractate of life.
Want to read more inspiring stories of everyday heroes from October 7th? Get your copy of Sara Lamm’s powerful new book “Into the Fire: Stories of Heroism from October 7th” today.
