A fresh transport, just in from Antwerp, had arranged the unthinkable: A Rosh Hashanah service behind one of the barracks

Unesaneh tokef kedushas hayom — Let us relate the power of holiness on this day.

Yom Hadin in Auschwitz: The cantor raised his voice on the altar of Hashem’s Will.

Ki hu nora v’ayom — For it is awesome and frightening.

The stench of ascending neshamos permeated the field and lifted the haunting tune to the heavens as huddled prisoners surrendered their torn hearts to the One Above.

A fresh transport, just in from Antwerp, had arranged the unthinkable: A Rosh Hashanah service behind one of the barracks.

It’s a death sentence. Suicide. We don’t do this here, was the initial reaction of the seasoned inmates, but one by one, their broken souls yearned to join.

Teenager Henry Berger stood at the edge of the group of newcomers, trembling with the knowledge that a person could be shot for a far lesser offense. But he was mesmerized, the melody a balm for his aching soul.

“Abie,” he told his son, my husband, decades later, “I can still hear the chazzan’s beautiful high tenor, even as I speak to you now.”