Memories of a living piece of history, of a unique holy soul, carry us forward.
Rabbi Israel Rosenfeld died 70 years, minus one day, from the date of his liberation from Auschwitz, about which he never ceased speaking. He wore his pain on his tattooed arm and on his sleeve; he never got over the fact that he had gone through so much with his father in Auschwitz, only to see him sent to his death near Birkenau just before the end of the war. The Holocaust haunted Rabbi Rosenfeld. He cried easily. He did not hide his emotions or his thoughts, did not keep them bottled up inside. Just the opposite.