"It was freezing in Siberia during the winter; at times it reached forty degrees below zero. They made us do backbreaking work and fill impossible quotas or else we wouldn’t receive our meager rations of bread. Yet the men would wake up early to daven shacharis with a minyan.
"On Yom Kippur, a group of men secretly gathered in a secluded room to recite Kol Nidrei and whatever prayers they could remember by heart. A fellow Jew, no doubt trying to prove his loyalty to the accursed communists, squealed on them. In the middle of their prayers, soldiers burst in to the room and took them to jail.
"As the spring approached and the air began to get warmer, we began to think about how we could possibly have matzos in Siberia. Normally even entertaining the thought was ludicrous. But just before Pesach the ‘bakery’ burned down and they could not give us bread. Instead they gave us raw flour. We constructed an oven out of iron and divided it with the Poles who were inmates with us. They baked bread on their side of the oven and we baked kosher matzos on the other side. On the night of Pesach we conducted a Seder while the Poles kept a sharp lookout for soldiers. Then when it was their holiday, we would keep a lookout as they would celebrate."
The aforementioned stories are excerpts from my Bubbi’s life when she was just a young teenager in Siberia during World War II. The unwavering dedication that was displayed for Torah and mitzvos boggles the mind. What wouldn’t these Jews do to perform one mizvah even in the bleakest and most horrifying situations? The myriads of stories of Jews standing on long lines in death camps to shake a Lulav, those who sang ‘Ani Ma’amin’ on their way into the Gas Chambers of Aushwitz, those who gave up half their meager bread ration to don a pair of tefillin for a few moments in Treblinka, those who would not entertain the possibility of converting to Christianity even in the face of death at the stake, etc. proves the love and inner drive that Klal Yisroel has to serve Hakadosh Boruch Hu.
One thousand years had passed since the creation of the world and Hashem was so-to-speak ‘depressed’ with His creation. The magnitude of their nefarious ways was becoming unbearable. Hashem decided that the world had to be eradicated and started anew. Noach was chosen to sustain the remaining minority of the world while the rest of the world was completely flooded. When the rains finally subsided and the land was dry enough and ready to replenish new life, Noach opened the door of the ark and everyone and everything departed. Immediately Noach decided to offer a sacrifice of thanksgiving to Hashem. The pasuk (8:21) relates, "Vayarayach Hashem es Rayach nichoach vayomer Hashem el libo lo osif od likallel od es ha’adamah ba’avur ha’adam ki yetzer lev ha’adam ra mini’urav v’lo osif od lihakos es kol hachay asher asisi- And Hashem smelled the pleasant smell (of Noach’s sacrifice) and He said to Himself, I shall no longer curse the land because of man, for the inclination of man is evil from his youth and I will not continue to smite all the living beings which I have created."
Why was the sacrifice of Noach so potent? What was it about the smell of his sacrifice that G-d immediately vowed never to destroy the world again when he smelled it?
The greatness of Noach’s sacrifice was that Noach literally had to make the greatest self-sacrifice in order to bring them. One can only imagine what it was like to be inside the Ark during the flood. Perhaps it can best be described as a floating Bronx Zoo without a proper sewage system. Every single type of bird, amphibian, mammal, reptile, fish, fungi, protozoa, bacteria, algae, and plant life (not to mention demons and spirits) had to be nourished and sustained for the duration of the flood. Noach and his family did not have a solitary moment of rest from the moment he sealed the ark until he let the animals out. The one time he came a moment late to feed the lions, he was rewarded with a sharp strike in the leg by the lion that caused him to limp for the rest of his life.
Noach emerged from the Ark a tired man. [Let’s see what shape you’re in when you’re six hundred years old.] The sight that greeted him wasn’t pleasant. He saw desolation and the stillness of a world that he had last seen as vibrant and filled with color and life. Those animals that Noach had worked so selflessly to sustain for a half a year in the Ark were now returning to the world to once again give it life. Yet Noach took those animals and slaughtered them in appreciation of G-d’s salvation. That was the ultimate sacrifice. Normally when one wanted to offer a sacrifice to G-d he went to his local farmer and purchased the animal. Then he ascended to Yerushalayim and gave the animal to a Kohain in the Bais Hamikdash to offer it. Here however Noach took an animal that was only alive because of his sweat and pain and offered it to G-d. That was a true sacrifice. When Hashem saw this great act of Noach, He was so proud that He vowed never to destroy the world again.

The Mishnah (Avos 2:1) states, "Rebbe said:Be as scrupulous in performing a ‘minor’ mitzvah as in a ‘major’ one, for you do not know the reward given for the respective mitzvos." My Mora D’asra, Rabbi Avrohom Chaim Feuer shlita, once explained that we think there is a point system for mitzvos. We calculate that Shabbos must be worth a lot of points while lighting the Menorah on Chanukah may only be worth a few points. However as a general rule one mitzva is not greater than another (although there are some mitzvos that are as great as all the other 612 mitzvos combined). The truth is each mitzvah is as precious as the effort expended in its performance. Thus two people can perform the same mitzvah, yet one will receive a far greater reward for it. In fact one person can even perform the mitzvah better than someone else and yet the latter will get a greater reward, for he performed it with more gusto and/or self-sacrifice. This is the message Rebbe is conveying to us: Do not think one mitzvah is minor or major, because in truth every mitzvah is major; it just depends how much you put into it.
I have been to people’s homes for Shabbos where they have rattled off kiddush without any feeling. On the other hand I have heard kiddush recited that, in the vernacular of one good Jew, "rocked the house". [In fact that one good Jew (who shall remain nameless) made kiddush on the first night of Succos in our Succah with more feeling and power than I had when I recited Ne’ilah on Yom Kippur.]
Any person that is involved in a serious relationship (a long-lasting friendship or a marriage) can tell you that the acid proof of dedication to the relationship is not when everything is hunky-dory. If things are not working out and yet one still holds on to the relationship and steers it through the difficult times, that shows that the relationship is concrete and solid.
So too, on a much deeper level our dedication to Hashem is not proved when it is easy for us to keep the mitzvos. It is only when things are not going so well, when one pushes himself to give charity when his financial situation is shaky, or one pushes himself to learn when he is not feeling so well, that proves his true dedication to Hashem.
The greatness of Noach’s sacrifice after the flood was that he was willing to give up the fruits of his greatest efforts for Hashem. Even with the comforts we are blessed with, on our level, we must aspire for that wonderful trait.