By Josh Zimmerman

We were a group of 18 Yeshiva University students embarking on the Center for the Jewish Future’s Project Kharkov, a joint service learning mission with the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee (JDC) in Kharkov, Ukraine. Despite an extensive three-part orientation prior to departure and a packed itinerary, we had no idea what was really to come.

Upon landing in Kharkov after several delays and a missed connecting flight, our group was flooded with flower-shaped balloons, an enormous colorfully painted welcome banner, and Russian songs in the airport. The Kharkov community sent a small yet energetic constituency to greet us after our draining journey, despite the late arrival. This overwhelming and marvelous introduction to their Jewish community truly set the tone of our entire time abroad.

The ten-day journey passed swiftly despite the jam-packed days. Team America, as we called ourselves, sat through several lectures on the history of the Kharkov Jewish community during and after the Soviet Union by the local JDC representatives. We visited a Holocaust memorial site known as Drobitsky Yar and toured both the existing Jewish Community Center and the new one currently under construction. We lunched with groups of senior citizens in their homes and chatted about each others’ lives with the assistance of translators. We also donated 15 duffel bags overflowing with collected clothing, blankets and toys that we had gathered during a drive in New York just before our departure.

On Shabbat, our ruach-filled songs reverberated throughout the four-story building, followed by meals, educational activities, and discussions. We aided the local Jewish day school, Shaalavim, by rebuilding a bima, recoating windows making them winter-durable, and decorating their school with our very own art we brought and created while in Ukraine. We constantly were rushed on and off the charter bus, slept very little, and yes, ate an excessive amount of potatoes.

Every activity organized for Team America had numerous local Jewish Ukrainian peers tag along. Their ages varied from young teenagers to late 20s, and their backgrounds ranged just as much. What about the language barrier, you might be wondering. Well, many of the Ukrainians spoke English, or at least understood enough to get by, while their friends served as translators when necessary. Neither group let this natural barrier dampen the mood. Although we were worlds apart, Judaism united the two groups.

In our final activity as a unified faction, we dined at the city’s only kosher restaurant in a lavish banquet style and exchanged gifts. Following the dinner ceremony, the Kharkovians surprised us with authentic horse sleigh rides, spirited slideshows of our ten-day adventure, and effervescent fireworks, which concluded with an emotional farewell. Hugs were thrown all around; numbers were exchanged; papers with each others’ English names were passed around for Facebook purposes. Our trip had come to an end and Team America begged the directors for “just another three days.” But we knew what we signed up for, and the goodbyes were said sadly.

These friendships were the highlight of everyone’s trip. But for me, it was one specific friendship I formed while abroad that contributed to its success.

I first introduced myself to Nicolay while visiting the city of Poltava. Nicolay stood out from among the others Jewish peers: he was only fourteen years old and walked around with his head held fairly low, always looking slightly down about life. I politely and curiously inquired about his life. In simple English, he told me that he had grown up in Israel, but moved back to Ukraine with his mother because his father had found a new wife and wanted a new family. He has not spoken to his father in many years, he noted with almost an expressionless utterance.

Nicolay did not flinch when he mentioned that no one in his grade speaks to him because he is Jewish. His best friend recently became anti-Semitic and no longer interacts with him either.

I did not know what to respond, yet my heart ached with empathy.

It was evident that Nicolay was not observant and had very little background in Judaism, but he appreciated various Jewish traditions. This was the case for many of the Ukrainian Jews. In many respects, the Ukrainians did not have a holistic appreciation for what Judaism entails.They could not relate to our commitment to Torah u’mitzvot, but instead related to Judaism culturally. They loved the traditions and excitement of Purim, and hearing about the serenity of Shabbat. They took pleasure in drawing Israeli flags, Menorahs, and Jewish symbols. Although Judaism for them is not rooted in halacha, culturally, the passion is clearly there.

After each day ended, I shook Nicolay’s hand and gave him a gigantic hug, hoping he left as cheerful as possible. I asked him, “Will I see you tomorrow?” He always responded, “Yes, I think. I hope.” Each day he returned, and soon he became more and more comfortable around me and the rest of the group. He even began asking me questions. His curiosity about New York never ceased. When I showed him photos of my family and trips I have taken, he had a smile peaking out of his mouth once or twice, as if he couldn’t control it. A breakthrough? I definitely felt like one was on the rise.

After spending the day with Nicolay and the other Ukrainian peers, I found myself replaying conversations I had had during the day and the projects we had completed. I couldn’t stop thinking about the life he was living. True, I and the rest of Team America, were bonding exceptionally quick over exciting conversations and work projects. However, I couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting to do more.

Nicolay returned after attending programs several days in a row bearing a gift for me. Handing me a small magnet, he said shyly, “This is for you.” I gave him a giant bear hug; he beamed with joy.

Sensing our last day slowly coming closer and closer, I started mentally preparing a goodbye speech. I wanted to leave him with words of advice. No, I needed to leave him with words of advice. When the dreaded “goodbye” moment came, I stumbled on my words and began tearing up instead. I fought through my emotions and told him how glad I was to have met him. I began to speak swiftly, afraid my emotions would not allow me to say all that I wanted. I very quickly expressed my hope that he stay involved with the JCC and how I wished to see him again someday.

Luckily, SCW Junior Margot Reinstein stepped in at exactly that moment. She was the third pea to our little pod: the three of us had become somewhat of a little group. (We even had a name for ourselves, a name Nicolay came up with: V-J-M) She articulated much better what I had been trying to say, but I was just glad one of us was able to. Margot conveyed our interest in staying in touch, and how we may be physically leaving him but we’ll always be here when he needs us. I interjected, “Cuz we’re never going to forget you,” which brought a few tears to his eyes. He said very little during this short farewell, except for one significant phrase which stood out. He expressed his gratitude using his limited vocabulary, “You guys are really cool.” He repeated this sentence multiple times and gave me a hug. This was the very first time he had initiated a hug with me.

After this, he slowly walked away towards the bus back to his home. I quietly sniffled inside my Michelin Man-sized winter coat looking the opposite way. A few people attempted to console me, but I just needed a moment, that was all. Then, Margot motioned me to turn around. There was Nicolay. He had walked about ten or twenty feet, and had stopped to wave once more. Margot and I waved back. He continued on walking backwards waving as he went. After another 40 feet, we gave a final wave and he vanished.

I was encouraged to focus on the positive of meeting this young boy, rather than remaining fixated on the farewell. We had gotten through to him! At least partially, we did. Over the course of the trip, we opened Nicolay up and got him to smile, and more. He chatted, laughed, sang and danced on Shabbat just like the rest of us. And wasn’t that the point of the entire trip, to meet Jews from other backgrounds and connect through our devotion to our Jewish traditions? We were able to level out the playing field and treat each other like brothers and sisters, without any pretenses getting in the way.

Later that night, Kharkov’s JCC Director approached me. Nicolay’s mother had called her and exclaimed that she had never seen Nicolay so happy his entire life as he had been this past week. This was exactly what I needed to hear; as long as he was happy, I was happy.

This trip taught me how to give of myself entirely both when I felt invested in the cause and even when I did not. I felt I had the amount of energy I exerted to the trip was greater than the feeling of satisfaction the trip gave to me. I was beyond pleased with this conclusion. I had created a friendship with a person in need, a fellow Jew. His mother’s phone call made it clear that it wasn’t only I who felt the impact.

In Kharkov, I had never felt more attached to other Jewish people. They were thirsty for Jewish friendship and direction. These Ukrainian Jews are still persecuted socially for being Jewish. Our Modern Orthodox world does not exist there, which I believe is why we meshed so perfectly. It was necessary for them to witness a group of typical Jews who face family issues, stressful life choices, and internal struggles. We did this without projecting, without even intending or noticing. We traveled hand in hand, often buzzing from the blasted bus music, to each volunteer mission and each learning session as family, as a united Jewish people. In a sense, they were our long lost siblings we did not know existed, but grew so attached to by the end of our first reunion.

Over two hours outside of Kharkov, modern-day Poltava looks like a nest of Soviet apartment blocks with the occasional glimpse of a 19^th-century estate. The most culturally Ukrainian in all of eastern Ukraine, locals say proudly.  Hundreds of years old and birthplace of the immortal Russian poet Gogol, the town has its quaint areas too: monuments to Ukrainian culture, a resplendent Russian Orthodox church with golden domes, vistas of far-off wintry hills.

Today the streets of Poltava are covered in snow; local residents walk bundled in furs and holding bags of groceries. Public buses slowly ramble down the icy roads while politicians smile from billboards over highway. Balconies are boarded up from the cold, and little activity is seen around the six-story apartment complexes.

The town’s Jewish Center is just as unassuming as the other residential buildings. With no plaque or symbols on its face, the center is a secretive bustle of activity. Six year-old Sasha’s and Misha’s run around the place in kippot and tzitzit, and the walls are covered in photographs of children giving charity and learning Torah. Run by Chabad, the colorful building houses a synagogue, school and social center.

This morning, on our way to touring the town’s Jewish history, we stop by the center to conduct Shacharit prayers at the basement synagogue. The children and teachers watch us with interest: a funny-looking group of American Jewish students who have just paraded into their hometown.

At Torah reading, we watch a lanky shy boy be called up to the Torah, and it dawns on us – a bar mitzvah! The lavish event that we have grown to associate with the coming of age for thirteen-year old boys, suddenly no longer calls for an elaborate smorgasborde nor matching place cards. All it needs is a group of Jews, speaking in English, Russian, Hebrew, to gather in a basement synagogue in Poltava, around a Torah scroll and beaming thirteen-year old boy.

The schoolchildren laugh as they throw candy at the boy, and he ducks and smiles from the incoming lollipops. As he makes his way back to his seat, a tall grey-haired man walks in, in a sweater and jeans. “Nu, ti zdelal?” the boy’s father asks. Did you do it?

“Da, zdelal,” his son answers quietly. Yes, I did.

The father smiles and claps his son on the shoulder, then turns and walks out of the room. The boy’s friends gather around him, our boys dance and sing, our girls wish him a hearty Mazal Tov. His father may not have understood the value of that moment, but we did.  And from the look of the bar mitzvah boy’s face, so did he.

When we landed in Osnava International Airport in Kharkov, we were greeted by a whole group of Ukrainian students from various programs including Hillel, as well as by the JDC staff. They had a huge sign that said “Welcome Dear Friends to Kharkov,” and handed each of us a balloon flower as we walked into the greeting area. For the first few minutes there we stood as two groups facing each other separated by a six foot space as if there were an invisible force field in place making us gawk at one another like exhibits at a zoo. While walking through the parking lot, however, we started mingling with each other and by the time we were on the bus heading to the kosher restaurant for dinner both groups had merged into one with loud conversation between the participants leading well into the night until we departed ways at the hotel. The language barrier appeared to be nonexistent since many of the Ukrainians know some English or Hebrew and we were all so interested in talking to each other that we found ways to communicate. At the end of dinner, half of the YU group was counting to 20 out loud in Russian and was being cheered on as they reached the final numbers.

At a JDC Hesed center in Kharkov

This morning after breakfast in the Kharkov Choral Synagogue dining room we headed to Solomon University and met up with the students who would be spending the rest of the day with us. We were given a half hour presentation on the history of Ukraine and the state of affairs of Jewish life today in Ukraine and in Kharkov in particular. The presentation included the importance of the work the JDC and other Jewish organizations provide for Jewish residents of Ukraine. One point that stuck me deeply was how their Hesed centers, which provide services like housecleaning, debit cards to supermarkets, medicines, winter relief, and SOS emergency relief for disasters like a collapsed roof, raise the average life expectancy of their Ukrainian elderly clients from 68.2 years for an average Ukrainian to approximately 77 years old. These centers, which we will be volunteering for later in the week, literally add 10 years to people’s lives.

We were then treated to a spectacular musical adaptation of Little Red Riding Hood performed by a group of talented first graders who astounded us with their amazing dances and enthusiastic singing in perfect English. The smiles they wore as we gave them a standing ovation made us all light up on the inside.

We then watched a video filmed by the students in the University about Jewish life in Kharkov, and then went on a walking tour around a small section of the city that included many locations shown in the film. When we reached the river, which was used as a mikva by Jews living in Kharkov since the middle of the 18^th century up until the early part of the 20^th century, and I saw how it was partially frozen over, it struck me how difficult life was for Jews living such a cold climate and yet managed to have a population of 130,000 before the Nazis invaded in 1941. We returned to the Choral Synagogue in middle of the tour where the Chief Rabbi, Rabbi Moshe Moskowitz, told us about how Jewish life in Kharkov has grown since he was sent here by the Lubavitcher Rebbe in 1990 as the USSR was crumbling, as well as to eat lunch. While at lunch, one of the Ukrainian students with whom I had been talking to on the walking tour, Roman, started singing a rousing rendition of hava nagila, to which everyone in the group joined in.

After lunch we continued our city tour by heading to Freedom Square, the largest square in Europe according to our guides. The square is currently decorated in full holiday splendor, as the holidays in Ukraine and Russia are celebrated approximately two weeks after they are celebrated by most other parts of the world. To give a sense of the size of the square, which is actually shaped like a round flask with a bulbous head and rectangular bottom, the bottom has a couple of rows of decorated trees surrounding a very tall tree, as well as four 15-foot tall Matryoshka dolls decorated to represent the four seasons, 12 small houses decorated to represent the 12 months of the year, a few larger houses with monkey bars and sliding ponds, rides including a carousel and Ferris Wheel, and an ice skating rink in the center. The circular head of the square is dominated by a huge statue of Lenin, which struck us as an interesting dichotomy between the communist past and the current independent republic of Ukraine.

We then traveled to the outskirts of the city to the holocaust memorial at Drobitsky Yar, a ravine at which approximately 35,000 people were killed in the winter of 1941-42, including 16,000 Jews in a two day span. Our group performed a memorial service and then went inside the memorial to a room filled with names of those murdered at the site. A brief history was given by an older gentleman whose father had saved 312 Jews during the war and is listed among Yad Vashem’s Righteous among the Nations. We then recited a perek of Tehilim in Hebrew and Russian followed by singing Acheinu Kol Beis Yisrael. Many of us felt the significance of singing Acheinu at that time when we were among a bunch of other students from halfway around the world, with whom we are connected with by being Jewish.

We then went to the JCC Beit Dan for group reflection time and to see the different services provided by the JCC. These include after school activities for children, crafts and socializing for adults, youth clubs for teens, sports, dance, art, and a bunch of other activities for the Jewish community. On our tour of the center we were shown how the JCC is also provides Jewish culture by having holiday and Shabbat programming as well as Torah learning. We finished with a few fun activities to further bond with our Ukrainian peers and dinner in the restaurant.

We got back to the hotel and had a final group reflection period of the day during which time we discussed the topic of Jewish identity. Questions that arose included whether one needs to be halachically Jewish to be included in the Jewish community, or even if one only has a single Jewish grandparent are they also included in the Jewish community? How do we as religious Jews interact with people who only have a Jewish father but not a Jewish mother, both on this trip in Ukraine where we have come to help strengthen the Jewish community, and back at home? We plan on continuing these discussions as the trip goes on. Until then, enjoy reading!