Introduction 3

Anyone who has survived the first two volumes must deserve this third volume. As I mentioned in the introduction to the first volume, there are stories and jokes I never got a chance to tell Reb Shlomo, but wish that I had. One time the Holy Sanzer Rebbe saw that one of his Chassidim was laughing exaggeratedly. He chastised him and said, "It is forbidden to fill one's mouth with laughter in the world. As long as the Holy Temple is still not rebuilt, one must not forget for a moment mourning for its destruction and yearning for its rebuilding. This Chassid was so broken upon hearing the words of the Holy Rebbe of Sanz that he began to cry and his tears filled up the empty cup in front of him. When the Rebbe saw this, he exclaimed, "I take it back. If anyone can cry like that, then he has the right to also fill his mouth with laughter."

Rabbi Shmuel Krauss, of blessed memory. found some moments of lightness in the pit of Hell, in the awesome darkness of the Holocaust.

I had the privilege of working together with Rabbi Krauss for three months, supervising kosher wine in Southern California. Late at night, after the days' work was done, we would sit together, and I would soak in the stories he shared with me until the early hours of the morning. Twenty years have passed but these precious mements are still fresh in my mind.

With awe and humility, I will share some of these never-been-published stories of Rabbi Krauss, who was one of the greatest influences in my life.This volume is dedicated to Six Million Jews whose cries eternally pierce the heavens.

I pray that if anyone is sad or lonely, G-d forbid, this book gives strength and joy even if it be for but a few brief moments. I therefore name this book, Don't Ever Stop Laughing and Crying.

When Rabbi Shmuel Krauss ztz''l spoke of the two years he was in the work camps and his years in concentration camps, I felt I was transplanted to these pits of Hell as I hung on every breath that escaped him. He mourned deeply for the loss of all of his family and the loss of the greater family of almost every Jewish man, woman and child that walked the face of Eastern Europe. Yet, despite all Rabbi Krauss had seen, felt, and lived, he always had a pleasant smile on his face. It was if he could get beyond all the pain and somehow see G-d's guiding light through it all.

I asked him how it was possible to not give up in such awesomely terrible times. He just smiled and said "I never gave up on G-d, and as you can see in front of you, G-d never gave up on me." I asked him if there was anything he could tell me that could illustrate this point. He pondered for a moment and began to vividly recall this story. He spoke very calmly and in a sing-song chant that sent chills through every fiber of my body:
"My father was dragged off by the Nazis as I hid underneath the floorboards in a hand-dug tunnel. Just the day before my beloved father, OB"M had told me that it was unlikely that he would survive the cruelty and torture of the enemy as he was quite old and weak at the time. "But I bless you that you will have the strength to make it through the great darkness that has come upon our people." I asked my father how can I be sure that I will make it. He said, "I will write you a letter." I understood this to be a joke, and with tears that shook the heavens, we parted from each other. Just a few weeks after that I was caught by the Gestapo and brought to a work camp. I was there for almost two years and had no idea of my father's whereabouts or even whether he was alive or not. One day I was called in to the General's office and, of course, was convinced that this would be my end. The General asked me if I was Shmuel Krauss and I answered yes. He said he has a letter for me. I thought he was joking but he actually took a letter out of his breast pocket. He said, "Read this letter and translate every word very carefully." I couldn't believe my eyes as I looked at this letter that had been written close to a year before. My father has thrown this letter off the train that was taking him to his death. It had my name on it and the name of the camp I was in. How it reached me only G-d knows. How did my father know I would be in this camp? Who knows? But I was holding the letter my father promised to write to me. I began to read with great trepidation.

'My beloved son, Shmuel,

I am writing this letter with my last breath in this world and most certainly you will receive it when I am in the next world.

This is your father's last wish: Be a Jew every precious moment of your life. Never give up the faith of our forefathers, Abraham , Issac and Jacob. Not only live as a Jew, but if necessary give up your life as a Jew.

Never try to save your own life at the expense of someone else's life. Know that if by some great miracle you receive this letter, G-d shall protect you and you shall merit to live and derive naches (pleasure) from your children and grandchildren. When it seems that you have no more strength left, please read this letter again and remember your father who is always proud of you. After I return my soul to our father in Heaven, we will both look down upon you and bless you and all of Israel. Remember my son: G-d's salvation comes in but the blink of an eye. With utmost love and tears, Your father'

"The German officer was crying and said, 'Your father was truly a holy man and his great merit shall protect you. As long as you are in this camp I will see to it that you shall stay alive.' He kept his word, and through many narrow escapes this German officer acted behind the scenes as one of G-d's agents fulfilling the prophetic words of my father's letter. Despite it all I knew I would make it. I had living proof that Divine Providence was the prime mover of it all, even in Hell.

"I never gave up and, always carrying my father's letter, I was able to give strength and encouragement to others. It was not always easy, but I would always my father in front of me smiling and always telling me how proud of me he was."
* * *

I was sitting with Reb Shmuel about a week before Chanukah and was listening intently to his awesome, moving stories of living Hell. Wanting to know everything, and realizing what a G-d given opportunity I had to be with such a Tzaddik, I kept encouraging him to tell more. I asked him if he had been able to celebrate any of the holidays while in such unbearable circumstances.

He smiled widely and began to dream while awake. He told me the following tale that I must write down to preserve for all eternity:
"Before the Nazis came to take me away I thought for many hours what I would need the most to survive the unknown that was in store for me. I loved the Mitzvah (commandment) of Tefillin (phylactries) with all my heart and couldn't bear the thought that I would not be able to fulfill this all encompassing Mitzvah.

"I owned a very small pair of Tefillin which had been written by a truly G-d fearing scribe. One day a thought came to my head. Where could I hide the Tefillin and not get caught? I realized that there was only one place. I had heard from a diamond smuggler that his armpit served as a good place to hide diamonds. So I took my most precious possession, more valuabe than any diamond, and put it in my armpit."

I asked Rabbi Krauss how he could move his hands without incriminating himself. He showed me, moving his hands up and down with his armpit sealed tightly. He laughed and said, "See how easy it is?" He had practiced moving his hand while his Tefillin were secured in their hiding place and became an expert at it. I was in a state of disbelief but I knew from his big smile that every word of it was true. So I said, "Thank G-d, you were able to put on Tefillin every day."

He began in his sing song voice, "Not only did I merit to fulfill this great Mitzvah but every morning as we marched to work in the dark before dawn, I passed the Tefillin around to at least seventy other Jews who desired not to abandon this great opportunity. Every single day for four years, I merited to pray each morning with Tefillin and always, whatever I did, wherever I went, they were part of me. I knew that the pure desire of a Jew to fulfill the will of G-d would break down every barrier that the enemy could construct to restrict our souls.

"Yes, they wanted to kill us, but first and foremost they wanted to take away our pride of Yiddishkeit, the pride of being a Jew. I wouldn't stand for it; I knew that the joy of being a Jew, the joy of fulfilling G-d's word, was number one on the list. For four years in the deepest depths of Hell, every morning I was proud to put on G-d's crown and over a thousad times in the course of four years I was ready to give up my life for the great privilege of praying every day with Tefillin on my head and next to my heart."

I asked Rabbi Krauss if he still had these Tefillin and he began laughing and crying at the same time. He continued to speak in that melodious voice that seemed to be an intermingling of joy and sadness:
"It was the day we had all waited for and most of us gave up our lives and souls in the process. Freedom at long last, yes freedom. The Americans still have not recovered or ever will from the sights and smells of that fateful day. As I lay on the bed, to be de-loused by the American medics, their first glorious act was to confiscate my Tefillin which were crawling with lice. What the enemy couldn't do in four years took only a few moments for our liberators to do. The ashes of my Tefillin joined the ashes of our millions of holy brothers and sisters."

I went to sleep that night and drenched my pillow with tears. All the time I kept smiling and crying. I imagined that I had a pair of Tefillin under my armpit and was moving my hand in all directions with my Tefillin securely out of sight of the enemy.

2

It was already about two thirty in the morning, but I had to know everything about this awesomely holy Jew. "What about Chanukah?" I asked. "Were you able to light candles?"

Rabbi Krauss literally lit up as he sat up in his chair but was noticeably suffering great back pain.

"It was my second year in the work camps and starvation was rampant; death was on the increase day by day and as conditions steadily got worse, I began planning for two holidays I love dearly, Chanukah and Pesach. At the time, there were only five months till Chanukah and nine months till Pesach so I knew I had to get to work fast. I had become quite friendy with one of the luckier inmates who worked in the kitchen peeling potatoes all day for the Nazi officers to feast on. I begged him to get me a little olive oil and some flour. 'You'll save my life if you do it.' By G-d's grace, he took one look at me, slowly starving, and had compassion. Under the watchful eyes of the enemy, he managed to smuggle out one little vile of pure olive oil and a few handsful of flour wrapped in a bag. I thanked him profusely and quickly put the flour and oil away safely."

"Where could you have hid it safely with so many staring souls?" I asked Rabbi Krauss. "Ah," he smiled, "that's why G-d gave us two hands. One to hide the Tefillin and other to hide the flour and oil!" I was convinced that he was joking, but of course he wasn't. I burst out, "But how could you do anything with both your armpits filled up? He laughed and simply said, "If you put your mind to it and you have a mission to fulfill, you can do anything." He proceeded to demonstrate how he could move both his hands in every direction without exposing his armpits. I tried it for a few minutes and got very tired; I sat in disbelief when it hit me that for years he did it with one hand and for three-quarters of a year he did it with both hands. Wow!

I got so I excited I began gasping for breath. "Nu! How did you celebrate Chanukah?" He told me to relax, and this is what he said:
"I was so hungry and so thristy all the time, and I knew that this little bit of olive oil would be able to nourish me for a long time. Late at night when everyone was fast asleep from the torturous days, I would steathily take out the vial of olive oil from under my armpit. I would smell the scent of the oil and remember how good it tasted. Hundreds and hundreds of times in those five months I put the little vial to my lips and almost gulped it down to save my starving soul. Each time I did this, sometimes even ten times in one day, I would whisper to myself, 'Wait for Chanukah'. Hearing my own voice, I would close the vial securely and put it away safely.

"The first night of Chanukah arrived and the enemy decided to transport us to a different camp. We were in this Red Cross transit in the deepest darkness I have ever felt. I turned to my fellow travellers and said, 'Nu, it's Chanukah, it's time to light the Chanukah lights.' They all said, 'Really, Shmuel, now is not a time for jokes.' I I took a small metal cap I had stolen from the garbage just a few days before and placed it on a slightly protruding ledge inside the Red Cross transit. Everyone was startled. 'Shmuel, what is that?' 'Chop nisht,' I said to them, don't get excited. Soon we'll all see the light.' I ripped part of the sleeve of my one and only shirt and made a wick. I put the wick in the little metal cap on the ledge. I took the guarded, pure olive oil from its hiding place and carefully poured a precious drop into this cap. I then made the three blessings before lighting the light in the dark of the night."

Rabbi Krauss smiled with sadness and said, "Dovid, it was truly a Chanukah filled with light. G-d, what a miracle. But you haven't heard anything yet. Wait till I tell you about Pesach!" I said, "I almost forgot about the flour underneath your armpit. You mean to say you made it into Matza while you were in a concentration camp?"

If I hadn't heard the story from the lips of this great Tsaddik with my own ears, I would not have been abel to imagine that a person could have such fortitude and courage in the absolutely worst conditions. He never gave up, and he even fulfilled his dreams while in the depths of the inferno.

I must pass over the Passover episode for a bit of comic relief. Rabbi Shmuel Krauss's brilliant sense of humor was truly a gift from G-d. One night I asked him if it had ever been possible to get the Nazis to laugh. He burst out laughing as he remembered the following story.

One of the Nazi's favorite games was to throw someone into a big embankment of snow, and as soon as the person screamed they would mercilessly shoot him.

"One windy day I was the lucky one chosen for their favorite game. I was stripped of all my clothes and thrown into this pit of snow. As the guns were pointing in my face I knew that screaming would not save my life.

"I noticed that my body heat had created a sauna effect in the midst of this freezing snow. Stark naked, with steam coming from both sides, I began to sing in perfect German, 'It's June in January'. The Nazis were ecstatic with glee. They saluted me and gave me food and said, 'Judeh, if you can make us laugh you can live.'

"Yes, no matter how difficult the situation was, I either laughed or dreamed my way through it all. And yes, of course, through it all, my Tefillin was securely underneath my arnpit. Through it all, I never forgot for one second that I was a Jew."

Our sages of blessed memory spoke truly: "Hearing cannot be compared to seeing." The pen certainly is not sufficient to capture the awesome holiness of Rabbi Krauss ztz"l nor can the written word portray his unswerving faith and great sense of humor. At times even the morbid is the vehicle for laughter.

My eyes were wide as I saw Rabbi Krauss smiling as he remembered those terrible days and nights that never seemed to end. With trepidation, but wanting to learn from the Master, I asked him, "Was it possible to strenghthen broken souls while surrounded constantly by the smells of death?" He pondered a moment and then quoted the famous dictum of our sages of blessed memory. 'In a place where there are no men try to be a man.' There was no choice but to be strong and somehow give strength to others."

I had learned from the greatest of our Rabbis, the Galanter Rav from Hungary, that joy must prevail at every moment. But I had to know if this could be practiced in reality: "How did you retain your sense of humor in the cattle cars?" Rabbi Krauss spoke these unforgettable words:
"People were dying on every side of me. I saw that pandemonium would take more lives. I quickly went into action, piling the bodies up against the wall of the cattle car. This made more room for us. I checked all the pockets of the deceased and blessedly found two onions. I took a bite, and distributed a little piece to everyone. The screaming and crying stopped but for a moment. Then I knew I had to do something drastic. I turned to the bodies I had neatly piled up and began speaking to them:
"'My dear brothers and sisters. I realize you are dead, but I am not and I need to sit down. It is not possible to perform Mitzvahs (good deeds) in the next world, but G-d has given you all the opportunity to do something good even though you are no longer alive. Thank you so very much for your consideration, as I shall never forget your kindness.'I promptly sat down, which truly brought me back to life. For one moment this cattle car, which was a virtual cemetery, rang with laughter that reached the heavens. The morbid absurdity of that moment got us all beyond the dying reality. We all took turns sitting until we arrived at our destination. The onions, the seat and the laughter kept most of us alive throughout that particular ordeal."

As I watched Rabbi Krauss on this comfortable armchair, the chair turned into bodies and Rabbi Krauss was still sitting comfortably as the Hell train sped on.

Rabbi Krauss saw I was freaking out and calmly said, "You don't have to go through everything in life in one day. Nor do you have to hear about it all in one night. Go to sleep! I did, but it took me quite a while until I finally fell asleep. It was the first time in my life that I felt so lucky to eat onions whenever I felt like it and to sit down in any chair I chose.

Where did this great gift of living each moment to the fullest come from? "Rabbi Krauss!" I cried out, "What made you want to live when it seemed that there was nothing left to live for?"

"I never stopped dreaming for one moment," he answered. "I envisioned clearly in front of me the most beautiful Shabbos table ever seen. I was starving to death, so it helped to keep imagining that there were twelve challahs in front of me, each a different size and shape, that I had personally baked for the honor of the Sabbath Queen. I imagined the table filled with family and guests, each with their own Kiddush cup and two Challahs and as much food as we could eat that I had prepared with my own hands.

"This dream kept me alive day after day, and the fulfillment of the dream constantly renews my faith in Divine Providence. Why don't you come with your family for next Shabbos and see for yourself that dreams come true?"

It was worth the effort of flying from San Francisco to Los Angeles for a day I will never forget as long as G-d grants me life. My then-wife and I and our two darling little daughters arrived at Rabbi Krauss' residence at about nine in the morning. We were greeted very warmly and were escorted to our private room. I couldn't help but notice that the house was sparkling, and that two tables in the dining room had been set set for about fifty people. The house smelled better than the fanciest restaurant. With every step we took, we felt as though we were being transported into a world I had never known, yet always longed for. Yes! Incredible as it sounds, Rabbi Krauss and his holy Rebbetsin were almost ready for Shabbos and it was only nine A.M.!

Rabbi Krauss was in complete control of all the cooking, while the Rebbetzin was polishing everything she could lay her hands on. By about eleven A.M. the house was filled with guests, all finding their own rooms and receiving special attention from the Rebbe and his wife. "Do you need more blankets? Is the baby in need of something? You must be hungry. Please take a nap before Shabbos if you're tired, please ask for whatever you need." Every guest received exactly what they needed, while the Rabbi and Rebbetzin continued their holy preparation for the most exalted of all the guests, the Sabbath Bride.

It was truly a privilege to see and experience such love and care they had for the Sabbath. I must have heard at least one thousand times that day the words "for the honor of the Holy Sabbath." Every move they made, every breath they took, was for Shabbos.

I thought that such a level was reserved for the sages of yesteryear but I saw with my own eyes that anyone can reach the highest level if he or she truly desires to.

At about noon, the holy Rebbetsin asks me frantically if I could do her the biggest favor. "But it must be done right now!" I couldn't imagine what great emergency had arisen, but soon was alleviated to find out! "I forgot to buy flowers for the Holy Shabbos!" I thought she was joking, and I said, "Rebbetzin, I'll be glad to go, but what's all the excitement? There's still six hours till Shabbos."

She literally screamed, "Gevalt! Only six hours till Shabbos! Here's twenty dollars... run fast to Fairfax Avenue and please buy the most beautiful flowers you can for the honor of the holy Shabbos. And please don't bring me change. Please hurry -- it's almost Shabbos!"

I felt a bit silly running two blocks to buy flowers when it seemed that there was so much time left. But hearing how frantic and persistent the Rebbetzin was I ran as fast as I could hoping all the time that I would get back on time.

I was breathing heavily when I entered the flower shop. The owner of the shop looked at me suspiciously and said, 'What's your rush?' I had a feeling that this could lead to trouble so I decided to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth. "This is an emergency," I said. "I need flowers real fast because it's almost Shabbos." I didn't know if this would alleviate his suspicions or even whether he knew what Shabbos was. But luckily he began to chuckle. "This must be for Rebbetzin Krauss. She's usually the first customer of mine on Fridays. I was wondering what happened. It must have somehow slipped her mind."

Getting into the spirit of things, I happily added some of my own money and bought a bouquet that was truly for the honor of Shabbos.

The storekeeper sent his best wishes for a good Shabbos to the Krauss family, and I ran all the way back to the house as I was trying to beat Jim Thorpe's olympic record. The Rebbetzin was overjoyed that I made it back on time and was thrilled that I brought such beautiful flowers for the honor of Shabbos. She thanked me at least ten times during the course of our visit for such holy flowers. I think I was beginning to understand what the flower children meant when they said, 'Flower Power'!

The table was filled with family, friends, and newcomers, and Rabbi Krauss was sitting at its head glowing with joy, humility, and deep gratitude. The great moment had arrived and we all washed our hands ceremonially to prepare for the breaking of the Challah.

The Challah is covered until after the Kiddush on the wine. This made the moment all the more spectacular. As Rabbi Krauss very gently removed the Challah cover I felt I was at the unveiling of some precious treasure that had just been discovered. Well it was much better than that. To my utter astonishment there were twelve Challahs (according to the Kabbalistic tradition of the Holy Ari, Rabbi Yitzchak Luria), each a different size and shape. I thought they were going to fly straight to heaven but when I tasted a piece I realized that heaven had flowed directly into them.

This scenario repeated itself for each of the three Sabbath meals, and each time I saw Rabbi Krauss living the dream that had saved his life so many, many times.

I felt so lucky to be one of the only people there who knew the story behind the Challahs. Rabbi Krauss spent all of the Shabbos singing at the table, praying fervently, teaching Torah to the gathered group and never mentioning one word of the pain he endured.

That Shabbos changed my life and since then I have run many times to buy flowers for Shabbos. But never quite with that great urgency I felt when the good Rebbetsin said "Gevalt, there's only six hours to Shabbos".

I thought that after Havdallah, the closing ceremony of Shabbos, that I would begin packing for our return flight. Well, I was wrong. For the moment that Shabbos ended, Rabbi Krauss looked at all of his guests lovingly and invited us to have a feast in honor of King David to escort the Sabbath Queen on her way.

I had read in the Code of Jewish Law that a person should always set his table immediately after the Sabbath so as to begin the week well with a 'fourth meal' of the Sabbath. I never took it so literally. I thought that when all your Shabbos food was digested by a few hours after the Sabbath, if you're hungry you have something to eat. But Rabbi Krauss took this to mean that the fourth meal of Shabbos was not only not any less that the three meals of Shabbos, but might even be greater.

There weren't twelve Challahs for this meal, but there were two huge Challahs like the kind you see at weddings, even bigger than any of the thirty-six Challahs that he baked for Shabbos. Most important there was special gefilte fish, which the same hands that put on Tefillin for four years and hidden oil and flour, had made with great love and awe of our Creator who commanded us to honor the Sabbath. Yes, not three meals, but four meals. Rabbi Krauss sang with his guests until the middle of the night and told us that the fourth meal of Shabbos brings blessing to all the meals we would eat in the coming week. I went to sleep that night and dreamed I was one of the twelve Challahs that Rabbi Krauss ate up in one bite. I woke up feeling very light.

Rabbi Krauss and I returned to work in Fresno on Monday, and now I really wanted to know more, for I had now tasted a little bit of the Rabbi Krauss of Shabbos.

With the sweet memory of the four meals of Shabbos embedded in my heart and kishkes I asked Rabbi Krauss who the man was that sat near the huge urn of hot water and drank coffee all Shabbos.

He smiled and said, "Ah, Reb Moshe. He's been coming to our house for over twenty years. He has no family and is all alone in the world. I found him wandering the streets sad and lonely. I invited him for Shabbos but I saw that it was an emergency, so even though it was only Wednesday I told him to come immediately so we could get ready for Shabbos together. Then I asked him "What do you enjoy the most?" And he said very sadly, "I have nothing in this world to enjoy, but I love a good strong cup of coffee." I realized that G-d had sent me a great opportunity. I said, you're just the person I'm looking for. I need someone to be in charge of the hot water for all the Shabbos guests so that each one will have two good strong cups of coffee on Shabbos morning (as was the custom of the Holy Baal Shem Tov, the founder of the Chassidic movement)."

Reb Moshe took his new job very seriously and on that Wednesday he sat himself down on the couch next to the huge hot water urn and began drinking coffee until Shabbos came in, and he continued to do so until the following Monday morning. For twenty years Reb Moshe has been gainfully employed six days a week making sure the urn is always filled with hot water for all the guests that come to the house. I pay him a salary, and he, faithfully, with his pride and self-respect restored, makes sure that everyone is taken care of and drinks coffee almost all the time. He speaks very infrequently, but in the twenty years that he's been here here he feels that he is doing a great service and believe me, he is.

I started to see that Rabbi Krauss was not just bringing home guests to score points in heaven and on earth, but tnat he truly cared about people. How unusual and awesomely holy after all the cruelty he'd experienced, Rabbi Krauss took the bad and found hidden deep within it good sparks that gave life to all.

I wanted to know more about this whole guest-obsession thing. "Rabbi Krauss, you speak of your guests quite often. Did you ever have a meal without guests?" I asked jokingly. He answered very seriously, "G-d forbid I would never think such a thing."

"What's wrong with eating alone once in awhile?" I asked.

"There's nothing wrong, but then again there's nothing right. If there are so many hungry people right in front of your nose and you can afford to help them, how can you not? Four years of starvation and being surrounded by death certainly opens your eyes to the needs of others," answered Rabbi Krauss.

And then he continued. "Let me share a well known story with you. Two great Chassidishe Rebbes, the holy brothers Reb Zusia and Reb Elimelech, who were disciples of the Great Maggid of Mezrich, Reb Dov Ber, wanted to know if it was Shabbos that was so special or if it was the acts they performed on Shabbos that made the great light come down. So on an ordinary Wednesday they went through the motions of Shabbos, doing everything they would do on a real Shabbos. They lit the Shabbos candles, they prayed the Shabbos prayers, they made Kiddush over Shabbos wine, they sang the Shabbos songs, etc. This continued for the three meals of that Wednesday. At the end of Havdallah (the closing ceremony of Shabbos) Reb Zusia and Reb Elimelech looked at each other and began to cry. For they'd reached that same state of ecstacy as if it was Shabbos. They realized that they were phonies and it wasn't Shabbos itself that was so special but rather performing the acts that made it special.

Worried about their discovery they went to their master the Great Maggid to seek his advice. "We brought Shabbos down on an ordinary Wednesday," they said, "so it's obviously not Shabbos that's so high but what we do to make us feel good." The Maggid of Mezrich pondered the holy brothers' question. "Tell me," he said, "did you have guests at your table for the Wednesday feast?" "Of course," they said. "Ah," the great Maggid replied,"that's the reason you felt the presence of Shabbos on an ordinary Wednesday. For during any meal that you sit with a guest, it is really Shabbos."

Rabbi Krauss answered my question with this great story, which truly defined him. Why eat alone when every day can be Shabbos? Especially when you love the Shabbos as much as Rabbi Krauss. Right in front of my eyes was a human being who loved people and loved Shabbos so much that he was the perfect example of the words of the Zohar, "The Tzaddik himself is called Shabbos."
* * *

If we let go of our dreams or cease to laugh G-d forbid we become extremely vulnerable to our enemies' desires. If we truly want to live to see our dreams fulfilled we cannot only come back from the grave but we can even experience the words of the Holy Kotzker Rebbe (Reb Menachem Mendel, the Angel): Revival of the dead is no big thing; to me the revival of the living is the real Chidush (new) phenomona. "Yes," Rabbi Krauss continued to reminisce, "To come out of the ashes and still smile, to witness and be a part of living death and come out alive. Yes, a full life, not death, is the real task."

Rabbi Krauss most certainly lived his immortal words. His smile, always remembering, always comforting,revealed more of the holy complexity of this life and the perspective with which we receive it than all his holy words.

As long as we're speaking of the revival of the dead and the living, I must share this awesome story with you! Rabbi Krauss pondered for an eternal moment and then began in his beautiful soothing voice:
"We were marching for what seemed an eternity, and the ruthless evil pace which the Nazis set for us was causing us to lose many of the most precious of our holy people. I knew that I had to take the chance when I saw some water trickling from a rock we were passing, and I had to drink some before I would drop dead. I put my parched lips to the waters of Eden but was quickly cast out of the Garden. The Nazi officer spotted me and began shouting and cursing that this was forbidden for such subhuman creaturesas myself. He began smashing his gun on my back until I fell from the unbearably painful beating. As if I was alive or dead at the same time. I heard the Nazi's voice muffled in my brain saying that if I didn't stand up right now he would shoot me. To this day I know not how I got the strength to stand with my spine smashed apart, but I guess an angel gave me a push and I stood long enough for the Nazi officer to move on, leaving me alone to fall into a slumber of almost death. I was thought to be dead and was buried in a temporary, sandy grave along with other corpses. Later that day, one of the Jews who was assigned to gatherall the dead bodies from the temporary grave noticed that my eyelid moved ever so slightly. He recognized me and said, "Shmuel, are you really alive?" I smiled and asked him, "What do you think?"

Thus I learned that it is possible to breathe while covered with earth but not with sand. Yes, Rabbi Krauss made it through burial and came out smiling. A plan was formulated to smuggle him back and with intense back pain for the rest of his life, he continued to inspire, and to lift up the broken down trodden souls.

Just as it was unthinkable to have a meal without a guest (someone in greater need than you) so, too, it was not possible for Rabbi Krauss to make it through the day without shining his great light into the souls of the misfortunate. His door was always open to receive the beggars, the hungry, and especially to the lonely people who simply needed someone to listen to them. Rabbi Krauss had time for everyone, but aside from a few late-night moments of sharing his stories, he was a man with a mission. Yes, he was driven with a passion to make sure that as many people as was physically possible were taken care of both materially - he gave generously to the poor - and spiritually -- he was a respected Rabbi and spiritual mentor for the multitudes that passed through his wide open doors and heart.

"The impenetrable faith and unquenchable desire to fulfill G-d's words especially in the abyss of the fiery furnaces of Gehennom, Hell, turned the absolutely miraculous into the commonplace trivialities we barely pay heed to. Only in retrospect can we see G-d's great hand through it all." So Rabbi Krauss mused as he often reminded me of the dictum of the sages, 'The person a miracle happens to does not recognize the greatness of the miracle.' So as we sat together in the dark of the night in Fresno, California, I was transformed into awide eyed little child listening to his Zaidy (Grandfather) recall the great miracles of leaving Egypt.

I was there; I felt the pain of dying six million times a second for the sake of the sanctification of G-d's great name. But even more than that, I heard Rabbi Krauss's beautiful eyes cry and laugh and saw his holy words escape his pure lips that only spoke true words of Torah - G-d's light.

These eyes that spoke from the heart remain engraved on my heart. The new eyes that see others' needs. Rabbi Krauss gave over the secret of "What I really need is to give you what you really need! That truly gives me life."

"So, nu," I asked him, "did you really get to eat Matza on Pesach?"

"Not only did I eat the required amount of an olive-sized portion, but (you probably won't believe it!) I distributed portions to 400 Yidden in the camp from the one little Matza that was left." I said, "You're right, I don't believe it!" But with a very serious expression he said, "I am telling you the truth. Four hundred Yidden received a crumb of Matza that last Pesach we were in the camps."

"Let me start from the beginning. I had been planning for months and months how I could bake Matza under the watchful eyes of the Nazis. Before I even got the opportunity to fulfill my most important dream in this world I had opened up my little bag of flour many hundreds of times and came so close to stuffing it all in my face. I kept battling with the question: Which took precedence, my life or my stubborn dream of baking Matza. The Matza always came out on top, for no matter how weak with hunger I was, the thought of eating Matza at the Passover Seder gave me just enough strength to live.

"According to our holy tradition, the best time to bake Matza for Passover is the day before Passover after twelve noon. After months of gathering scraps to serve as the necessary materials I needed for the makeshift oven, I hid them in places only I knew about. I even had water prepared from the night before as is required by the Halacha (the Jewish Law). To this day I thank the Almighty for giving me, his humble servant, the honor of baking three little round Matzas. Yes, G-d held my hands as I quickly built the stove from the various parts I had hidden and within the required eighteen minutes I had three whole Matzas for the Passover Seder."

Simon and Garfunkel sang, "I am a rock" but I felt more like "I am a Matza." From the armpit of this holy man to the littlle oven he built... Alhough the fire of the furnaces of death has been long extinguished the fire of the oven of Rabbi Krauss will continue to burn brightly in my heart and certainly in heaven.

"Do you remember what you said at that Seder?" I asked him. "I remember every word," Rabbi Krauss said with utmost humility.

"I began with these words: Tonight is Pesach (Passover). G-d has commanded us to eat Matza, the symbol of freedom, and Maror (bitter herbs), the symbol of the bitterness of slavery. We have had more than our share of bitterness, and therefore we have no need to eat of bitter herbs tonight. But we are obligated to eat Matza, the symbol of our freedom.

"I then took out the three little Matzas I had baked and showed them to everyone. Not one person tried to grab them, but rather everyone was sparked with a glimmer of hope. After all, if it was possible to have Matza under such conditions, certainly G-d will have compassion on us at long last.

"I chanted by heart all the Haggadah (Passover service). Those who knew it joined in, and those who didn't, hummed along. I apologized to everyone for eating two Matzos, but when I explained how much I went through to fulfill this precious Mitzva, there was no jealousy even in the midst of starvation. As then, I said, I distributed that last Matza to four hundred Jews. I handed out crumb after crumb and listened to each blessing and answered Amen over and over. It was worth starving hundreds and hundreds of times to merit to eat Matza on Seder night together with these precious Jews.

"I concluded the Seder with the words from the Zohar that are printed in most Haggadas. It speaks of the angels and the heavenly host descending from heaven to experience the Seder of the Jews. In the year that the miracle of Purim took place, a fast day was declared by Queen Esther; the fast came out on the night of the Seder. The heavenly host complained to G-d that they would miss the annual event of the heavenly Seder on earth. G-d andswered them and said by that this year the Seder was cancelled in order that the Jews truly repent. 'But next year I promise to make up for it. Please be patient until next year.'

"As I knew German fluently, it was my custom to read the newspapers in which the Nazis wrapped our lunches in order to follow the news. I was well aware that the Germans could not last much longer. They had wasted all the money they needed to fight the war in order to exterminate the Jews. I therefore took the liberty of blessing everyone present, including myself, with these words: 'The heavenly host is once again saddened by the fact that they are not able to take part in a real Seder this year, but just as Mordechai and Esther lived to see the repentence of the Jews bear fruits, so may all of us that live merit to have a real Seder next year. These words came true, and by next Passover all of us who survived were free."

"Were you the only one in your family that survived?" I asked.

"I had heard that the only member of my family that was alive was my youngest brother. It was very close to the end of the war when I heard that he was in Mathausen. I knew that Mathausen had the reputation of starving thousands and thousands and thousands to death, towards the end especially. I had to get to him as fast as possible, for each moment was precious.

I said jokingly, "How did you get there? Did you hitch a ride?" He very seriously said: "Something like it!" I was on the edge of my seat, as always, and asked him how far from Mathausen was he, and how was as I knew German fluently, able to escape from one concentration camp and get to another. He answered the first question first.

"Mathausen was approximately one hundred miles away from where I was and for me it was no problem to escape from any concentration camp I was in as I came to know every point that was penetrable." No longer surprised by his outrageous ingenuity, I casually asked why he didn't escape if he knew how to. With eyes that were pleading with me, he simply said, "How could I leave my brothers and sisters to suffer alone?"

"When I last heard of my brother, who was seen alive just three days previously, I managed to escape through a chimney, and in the dead of the night I began walking towards Mathausen. I interrupted with a question. "How did you know which way to walk?" And he said with a chuckle, "Thank G-d I have a good sense of direction. I walked for almost seven days in the snow and survived on any wild grass I was able to find. I was very thin and weak, but the thought of perhaps seeing my last brother alive kept me going on this, my last mission of the four-year Inferno. I kept trudging through the snow, and as battered and broken as my body and soul were, I felt I was nearing the end of this ordeal and I was filled with great hope.

"My dreams were shattered as I walked straight into the gun of a Nazi officer. With the gun pointed directly at my face and in a tone of disgust and perverted laughter, the officer screamed with delight. "I shall now kill you, you dispicable filthy swine of a Jew." I recognized the Austrian accent, and figuring I had nothing to lose at this point I said increduously in perfect German, "You mean you would kill your own landsman (countryman)?" He looked at me with total bewilderment. "What do you mean landsman?" I peered at Rabbi Krauss from every angle, "O.K, how did you pull this one off? How could you convince him you're from Austria when you're from Hungary?"

Rabbi Krauss proudly and humbly explained. "Thirty years previously, when I was about seven years old, I heard two Jews speaking in the synogogue about a particular street in Vienna they had lived on. I never forgot the name of that street. Little did I realize that it would one day save my life for the last and most important time in this four year nightmare.

"I told him that I, too, was from Austria. All the time I was praying that I had heard the accent correctly. He stopped pointing the gun but before totally believing me he tested me with one more question."

" OK, Juden (Jew) if you are really from Austria what street did you live on?" I replied with a silent prayer that my memory would serve me well. When he heard the name of the street, he literally dropped the gun and believe it or not hugged me, saying over and over again, "My landsman, my landsman!"

But before becoming my full supporter despite the fact that I was a Jew, the Nazi had to ask me one thing: "You Jews know everything. So who's going to win the war?"

As I've mentioned, I knew from reading the papers that the Germans would never make it more than another month. I also knew that this was not the time to be one hundred per cent truthful. So with a straight face I said, "Of course the Germans will win. It is obvious to me." When he heard from a three quarters starved seventy pound wasted skinny bone Jew that the Germans would win, the Nazi exclaimed, "That's correct! And therefore my landsman, I shall reward you greatly. I am in charge of the whole transport that is coming through here in twenty minutes. As a gesture of kindness, I will allow you your ticket to freedom: you may go wherever you desire."

When I thanked him profusely and then said I would love to go Mathausen, he couldn't control his laughter. He said that I could write my own ticket to freedom but instead this stupid Jew chooses to go back to his death!

The transport arrived and he compassionately arranged for my journey to Mathausen. I felt that we arrived too soon, and even though I had never been at Mathausen it looked too good to be true.

My suspicions were confirmed immediately -- I was transported instead to a phony Red Cross camp. The Nazis couldn't believe my stupidity and stubbornness when I refused to remain there. I demanded they take me to Mathausen for I had to see my brother.

Convinced I was the biggest lunatic in the world because I was willing to give up my life just to possibly see my almost-dead brother, they gladly complied. It took about three hours of driving till we arrived at the infamous camp.

As soon as we arrived I was able to smell the dead flesh and knew that this time they had kept their word. Then I saw my brother, wasted to nothingness after years of starvation.

The first words I heard from my brother after all this time of being apart was, "Shmuel, did you bring me any food?" I smiled widely and took handfuls of wild grass I had picked along the way out of my pockets. I said, "Do you think your brother would come empty handed after all this time?"

He said, "What is it? Do you expect me to eat that?" I said, "Not only do I expect you to eat it, but I promise that this will become the best soup you'll ever have. I made it into a soup and force-fed my brother a spoonful at a time. If I hadn't arrived at that exact moment there would have been at most a half hour of life left to him He was so weak after not eating for so long that this little bit of miracle soup saved his life. Two days after I arrived in Mathausen my brother and I and a small remnant of our holy people were liberated by the Americans.

Rabbi Krauss lived for almost fifty years after he was liberated and saw the blessing of his father fulfilled. He saw much naches from his six children and his many, many grandchildren. May the merit of the righteous protect us all.

