Religious leaders lend a hand
Rabbi Avraham Wolff, chief rabbi of Odesa and Southern Ukraine, had his hands full even before the war began, overseeing his community’s religious services, community center, school, and orphanage. Now his community has half the staff, and ten times the demand for help, he said. Chief Rabbi of Poltava Yosef Segal has also found himself at the center of social aid for Jews in his city, where many internally displaced people have settled.
“I don’t think there’s an area that we don’t help,” said Segal.
Wolff’s orphanage has 120 children, and the school has also become a safe place for Jews across the country to send their children.
Both Chabad rabbis mentioned that their greatest need was food for their congregants. In Odesa, Wolff said Chabad and IFCJ are two pillars donating food for the Jewish residents.
“People who were once rich and donating are now those who depend on us for food,” said Wolff.
The Odesa rabbi told of a successful businessman who sold wheat. The first time Wolff saw his house, he thought it the height of luxury. Recently, the businessman had come to him asking for a food package but wanted to be given the aid without standing in line because he didn’t want to be seen as needing charity.
Segal said that he had one congregant pass away, and when he visited his home he found 15 aid packages with dry foods, some going back months. The elderly man wasn’t able to properly cook for himself.
“That’s when I understood that some people need cooked meals delivered to them,” said Segal.
The only problem that they didn’t have in Poltava was lack of water. Segal proudly declared that the water and air in Poltava are the purest in Ukraine.
The role of medication and funding
In 2022, IFCJ organized seven humanitarian aid flights to Moldova containing 95 tons of essentials, including food, medicine, and blankets for Ukrainian Jews. Over the last two years, JDC has delivered 800 tons of humanitarian aid, including food, hygiene products, and other crucial supplies – like medicine.
JDC has provided medical and psychosocial aid to more than 30,000 Ukrainian refugees in facilities in Ukraine, including the distribution of wheelchairs and crutches. It has also established a network of eight trauma support centers across Ukraine, treating 1,600 patients in the last two years. Even with these donations, challenges remain.
Wolff recalled that during one period, there wasn’t any insulin for diabetics, so they had to purchase the medicine in Moldova and drive it to the Ukrainian port city of Odesa.
“A lot of it is an issue of money,” said Wolff. Besides that, they can figure out what they need to do to solve the community’s problems.
While Segal deals with 180 families who are in dire need of regular medication, he faces additional challenges, such as unscrupulous actors who take advantage of the war. A woman in his community who works in a pharmacy has to check the medicine packages to ensure suppliers aren’t shorting them. There is also a problem in the local culture, Segal related, in which some seem ignorant of the need to spend money on essentials like medicine and would rather use what little they have to buy luxury items.
One wealthy businesswoman actually called him to try to get reimbursed for the money she had paid for her father’s medicine, saying that her father was part of his community and was therefore his responsibility. In light of such incidents, Segal learned that it is often better to provide the product needed rather than just give money. The other organizations operate similarly, offering services and essentials rather than cash infusions.
Essential electricity
Elderly Polavans often require oxygen tanks and other medical devices, but their medical problems are compounded due to disruptions in electricity, Segal noted.
Russian missiles, artillery, and drones regularly damage electrical lines and power plants. Just on Tuesday, Russian drones hit a power plant in Dnipro. A blackout was avoided, but power outages, brownouts, and rationing are regular aspects of Ukrainian life, to varying degrees, depending on proximity to the front lines. The situation has improved greatly since the beginning of the war, Segal said, but is still a challenge.
For the Jewish charity organization, finding ways to develop their own electrical systems has become vital. Segal invested in power banks, which saves electrical charge when the electrical lines are working, and then can be used to maintain medical devices. He swears by them, saying they charge extremely quickly. He also said that the community purchased small generators “that saved our situation.”
Electricity is vital for heating homes. The Ukrainian winters and nights can be deadly. While adults can put on layers, children are especially vulnerable to the cold.
“We have people with cold children at home,” said Segal.
JDC’s Hessed facilities and Chabad houses have become refugees from the cold, with their generators and bomb shelters. Many families, especially if they are internally displaced persons (IDP), don’t have access to heaters and generators. JDC said that it planned to provide 29,000 Ukrainian Jews with winter survival needs this winter, including help covering utility costs, “wood, coal, portable generators, heaters, warm clothes, and blankets.” The IFCJ said the majority of its 2022 emergency grants were devoted to providing warm clothing, consumable energy, generators, and heating devices.
The elderly are also especially vulnerable to the cold. In 2022, the IFCJ helped approximately 3,000 elderly people in the former Soviet Union with winter aid such as insulation of windows.
Holocaust survivors
Among these senior citizens are Holocaust survivors, going through yet another war. IFCJ president Yael Eckstein noted that many of these survivors are still traumatized from World War II and are now revisiting some of the pain.
Roman Shvartsman, chairman of the Odesa regional Association of Jews – Former Prisoners of Ghettos and Concentration Camps, works with the almost 200 survivors in his area, in cooperation with JDC and IFCJ. Shvartsman’s organization checks with the survivors to find out what they need, responds to personal emergencies, visits them so they don’t feel lonely, and helps them through the process when they need surgery.
JDC and the Conference on Jewish Material Claims Against Germany have worked together for medical evacuations of 167 Holocaust survivors, transporting the seniors in ambulances across Ukraine to Poland. Most have gone on to Germany, where the Claims Conference and local organizations have arranged for their long-term care in nursing homes, according to JDC. IFCJ provides aid to 26,000 Holocaust survivors across the FSU.
Eckstein said that as the number of these elderly Holocaust survivors continues to dwindle, we are lucky to hear their stories firsthand.
“We have the honor of being able to provide some comfort for these people,” whom Eckstein called “diamonds.”
The Holocaust survivors, IDPs, and vulnerable people like Valentina barely survive in an economy in free fall, casting them into wartime poverty. Some are falling into a black hole of debt. Segal said that people can easily lose their house, which they’ve put up as collateral, and that some lenders do everything they can to make sure that those in debt can’t make it to the bank to pay. Segal said that the community helps in any way it can.
Wolff said that money, which is the lifeblood of their charitable activities, is almost entirely coming from foreign sources.
Soul nourishment
However, money cannot solve all problems in a war zone. Organizations have been quick to provide nourishment not only for the body but also for the soul.
Segal has seen many people reconnecting to Judaism during the war. His house runs a Sunday school for parents and kids.
“There’s enough food that the parents don’t give up on this day,” Segal laughed.
People who were once too busy day-to-day for the rabbi are now at the synagogue every day to pray and don tefillin. Others are rediscovering roots in Judaism that they didn’t know that they had or didn’t pay attention to previously.
Segal half-joked that everyone has some sort of Jewish connection in Poltava, be it family, ancestors, neighbors, or friends. Segal told the story of a translator they hired whose last name was Mazel, and his mother’s maiden name was Bat Shalom – but who was certain that he had no Jewish connections.
For now, Segal’s Poltava community prays in the basement of his Chabad house, which although incredibly small, has all the trappings of a proper house of prayer. The synagogue, he hopes, will be ready to meet the new demand in a few years. Its construction was delayed by the coronavirus, and now by the war. Shvartsman’s new Holocaust museum was also delayed because of the war. His association ensures the continuity of the Jewish community even in wartime, with events for the survivors. Every Thursday, they gather to dance and eat sweets – the 87-year-old claims to be a very good dancer.
The elderly women “still put on lipstick to feel attractive, and when they hug the men, then they melt,” he chuckled.
Community bonds
Wolff’s synagogue is popular even on a weekday. The community has also adapted its Jewish communal life to the war. Initially, when the sirens would interrupt Torah readings, they would head to the bomb shelter. Now they take the “one in a million chance” that a missile will hit them, having learned the limits and broadness of the alert system.
The JDC community center in Poltava is an inconspicuous building, with a generator out front and windows covered in material to prevent shattering. Inside, it is part warehouse, with stacks of diapers, food, and hygiene products – but it is also a true center for the community.
In the corner of one room, there is a miniature museum. Locals have donated items belonging to elderly Jews because they want them to remain in the Jewish community. Kiddush cups, paintings, even a pair of glasses: each item has a story.
The community center also hosts an elderly day center, youth and senior clubs, and cultural events.
On the top floor, there was a culinary class, teaching the traditions of the Hebrew month of Adar. They made a sweet orange preserve on Wednesday. In the next room, senior citizens were learning how to use smart phones. JDC has a special app in which they can attend events online and keep in touch with the rest of the community.
Another way to stave off the isolation of war is the JDC newspaper. In place of letters to the editor are messages from Jewish communities from around the world.
“We want our clients to be connected with communities around the world and feel the strength of the Jewish people,” said one of the volunteers.
On Wednesday, members of the youth club were meeting to plan a Purim event. The head of the youth club, a teenager named Yuri, said that it was important that people in his community know their history and religion, though it was sometimes a challenge to convey this information in an interesting way.
At the beginning of the war, there were fewer participants because people were scared and isolated themselves, he said, but eventually they wanted a place to feel safe and secure. Yuri said that being Jewish gives him confidence and makes him feel stronger.
“Don’t be shy to be yourself – to be Jewish,” he said in a message to Jews around the world.
The day center for the elderly has activities twice a week, which Maya, one of the participants, said that she is able to attend because they organize a car to bring them to the JDC building. She said that she enjoyed classes in which they do mental activities to preserve memory.
Through the JDC app, she said that she could connect to other activities with people from other communities in Ukraine, and even in other countries. She said that she’s proud that other communities in the US and Israel are supporting Jews in Ukraine, and that thanks to humanitarian assistance they have access to facilities and goods not enjoyed by others in Ukraine.
Ala, another senior club member, likes the Jewish women’s club in which different generations of women in the community come together. Everyone is made to feel comfortable, she said, which is important for IDPs who have come to Poltava.
“The Jewish community is the most unified in the world,” said Ala. “Everybody feels a connection and a strong shoulder to lean on.”
The Jewish and Christian aid organizations helping Ukrainian Jews have continued to take on this burden and provide them a shoulder to lean on. With the second anniversary of the invasion on Saturday, the JDC said this week that it needs to increase its work in Ukraine, and called for more attention to the situation in Ukraine, even with the ongoing war in Israel.
“We remain laser-focused on the dire humanitarian situation in Ukraine. These needs are all the more painful with widespread trauma, spiking unemployment and serious gaps in children’s education,” said JDC CEO Ariel Zwang. “I am proud of all the people we have helped in the past two years, but our work is nowhere near completed.
“We’re working tirelessly to safeguard and strengthen Ukrainian Jews and Jewish communities today, instilling resilience and hope for coming generations. We urge others to do all they can to help and make that strong future a reality.”
Going from war to war
The reactions of my family and friends to my trip to Ukraine last Sunday were almost universally a variation of “You went from one war to another?”
I had returned to The Jerusalem Post four days before; three weeks before that, I was in the middle of Gaza.
After 120 days in military reserves, it had been difficult to acclimatize to civilian life. I still was in the mindset of an infantryman; and walking around without my uniform, in civilian clothes, made me feel like an impostor. Without my rifles, a part of me was missing, and instead of those burdens I felt guilty for having been released when the war is still ongoing, when there are still soldiers fighting, and hostages are still in Hamas captivity.
The truth is, in some measure I felt more at ease in Ukraine than back at the Post’s office in Jerusalem. During my week in the beleaguered country, I was reminded of the Gaza periphery towns. Part of it was the stale tension and background radiation of a general threat, part of it were the signs and symbols of a nation at war. Being close to the action, to have the sirens rouse my tinnitus again, eased the weight of guilt ever so slightly.
Like in Israel, the display of patriotism is everywhere, but it is even more exaggerated in Ukraine. Israeli flags were replaced with Ukrainian flags, fluttering on every lamppost, every car, every building. Just like many buildings in Israel display the colors of blue and white, it seemed that everything in Ukraine that could be painted blue and yellow invariably was.
But no amount of colorful paint could hide the depressing sight of boarded-up shops, shattered windows, and hollowed-out homes. Some buildings that were destroyed almost two years ago still stand in ruins. It makes me fear that the scars I witnessed in kibbutzim like Kissufim and Kfar Aza, the collapsed and burned-out buildings, would be slow to be bandaged up.
Propaganda is also everywhere. In Israel, it takes the form of statements like “Together we will win” or posters of hostages and calls to “Bring them home.” In Ukraine, there is a bit more flair for the dramatic: action-movie posters of Ukrainian service people, some of them facing down zombies or orcs in Russian uniforms. Commercials for the Azov battalion on the train showed a fast-paced showdown. There are recruitment advertisements everywhere.
In contrast to Israel, where there is no lack of volunteers, manpower has become an issue in Ukraine. Every Ukrainian I spoke to said that just about everyone who can volunteer has; their concern seems to be more about having troops than the supply of weapons that occupies their allies in the Western halls of power.
In Israel, we have the luxury of cycling out soldiers, of releasing reservists like me for a few months. For those on the Russian front, there is no such degree of respite, according to locals. Soldiers could be seen everywhere in Ukraine, mostly on leave to visit home, similar to Israel. Like in the South, there are checkpoints dotting the roads closer to the border.
Ukrainian civilians have fled from many of the areas closer to Russia or the front. It is difficult to think of them this way, but like Ukraine we also have internally displaced people, forced out of their homes near Gaza and the Lebanese border, trying to pick up their lives in alien cities, hoping to return home one day. For the Ukrainians, this horizon seems farther off.
As my battalion entered Gaza in December, though fighting was difficult, there was no doubt that we were in control of the situation and could win, if international politics allows. The Ukrainians I spoke to seemed less concerned about diplomacy. Israel faces challenges from Hamas and Hezbollah that could cause cracks in the country’s foundation, since its citizens don’t feel safe to return to the North and South. But in Ukraine, there is a real existential threat, like a war of independence.
A sense of exhaustion pervades in Ukraine. While “uncertainty” was the operative word for the Israel-Hamas war, as it is in every war, it is felt more profoundly in Ukraine. Many expressed that they didn’t know what the future held for them, and for now all they could do was maintain their present as best they could.
They have settled into a routine that is frequently interrupted by air raid sirens. In places like Odesa and Poltava, the air raid sirens are quieter than those in Israel, and more than often ignored. Their alert systems raise the alarm across whole oblasts, while Israel’s is accurate to neighborhoods.
People must return to routine; it is impossible to remain in a state of crisis for a long period. So while it may seem odd that people in Kyiv and Tel Aviv sit in coffee shops and bars, they must. As the brave reservist Ari Zenilman once said, this is part of the life that soldiers fight to protect.
