THE SUMMER was coming to an end. The Jewish year was
almost over. On the eve of Rosh Hashanah, the last day
of that cursed year, the whole camp was upset/angry and
every one of us felt the tension. After all, this was a day unlike all
others. The last day of the year. The word "last" had an odd ring
to it. What if it really were the last day?
The evening meal was distributed, an especially thick soup,
but nobody touched it. We wanted to wait until after prayer. On
the Appelplatz, surrounded by excited/with electricity sharp-spiked wire, thousands
of Jews, severely upset feelings on their faces, gathered in silence.
Night was falling quickly. And more and more prisoners kept
coming, from every block, suddenly able to overcome time and
space, to will both into submission.
What are You, my God? I thought angrily. How do You compare
to this very upset/very sick mass gathered to promise/state as true to You their faith,
their anger, their refusal to cooperate? What does Your grand beauty mean, Master
of the Universe, in the face of all this weakness and fear, this (rotted, inferior, or ruined state),
and this extreme unhappiness/extreme pain? Why do you go on troubling these poor people's
wounded minds, their sick bodies?
66
SOME TEN THOUSAND MEN had come to participate in a serious
service, including the Blockälteste, the Kapos, all people (in big business or government) who work slowly in
the service of Death.
"Blessed be the All-powerful..."
Explanation:
