By Anemone Rüger
December isn't exactly the time of year to visit people in need in Ukraine. The weather makes travel difficult, and power outages are becoming increasingly frequent. And yet, we decided to do a Hanukkah tour right now. When, if not now, should we light a candle in the darkness?
It starts to snow on the evening drive from the Moldovan airport to the Ukrainian border. Early the next morning, we drive through a winter wonderland to Kirovograd for our first Hanukkah celebration.
Kirovograd – Gathering in the historic but cold synagogue
The Jewish community in Kirovograd, now called Kropiwnitsky, is one of the fortunate few that got its synagogue building back after the collapse of the Soviet Union and was able to make it usable again with considerable investment.
The temperature in the synagogue's makeshift heated assembly hall is so low that one can barely stand it with a jacket and hat. Hardly any of the elderly Jewish residents leave their homes anymore, let alone in winter; yet today every seat is occupied. For everyone, it is a festive occasion.
Unfortunately, a two-hour power outage is forecast right at the start of our meal – which means even more cold, darkness, and cold food. We'll start anyway.
The unusual power outage
“I’m all alone now,” says Natalia. “But here I feel like a little girl again. Here I have a family again, and I owe that to you!”
Mr. Schnayderman approaches me, wanting to personally express his appreciation. "It's not an easy time for us here," he says. "The air raid sirens are constantly going off, and we have to go down to the cellar. It's similar to back then. I hid with my mother and brother; we couldn't escape. We've been going from one hiding place to another in the surrounding area. That's how we survived. That you're thinking of us—that means the world to us!"
At 2 p.m., Rabbi Dan looks at his watch, then again at 2:10 p.m. and 2:15 p.m. The radiators, stovetops, and lights are still on. As everyone heads home, we realize that the power outage has stopped!
Nikolayev – only 50 kilometers to the front
We've now checked into our accommodation in Mykolaiv in the south. Within 24 hours, we've covered a good 800 kilometers on Moldovan and Ukrainian country roads. Here, too, we've invited all the still-mobile seniors from the sponsorship program to a festive lunch at the synagogue; we're visiting the others at their homes as far as possible. Our minibus is packed to the roof with little gifts – we even found Christmas stollen at Metro in Vinnytsia!
We are staying in the newly renovated hotel rooms. The other side of the building, which is right on the Dnieper River, is still being restored. From the outside, you can see the wing that was badly damaged in one of the many rocket attacks.
We begin an incredibly gray day. We left the snow behind long ago. It's probably gray here at this time of year even without war, but now it's all the more so. Electricity is being conserved; you see very few young people on the streets. Many houses have chipboard covering the window openings.
Feast amidst holy books
I had been saving Nikolayev for better times. From here it's only 50 kilometers to the front in Kherson, where death falls from the sky every day. But we are experiencing the extraordinary grace of God, especially in this city – during the 48 hours we spend here, it's quiet except for an air raid siren in the morning. We can recharge our batteries at night and bring hope and joy into people's homes during the day without hindrance.
The view into the synagogue's prayer hall is breathtaking. In Hebrew thought, religious worship is not separate from communal eating. Despite all the rules that must be observed, it is perfectly compatible to set up tables and load them with food while the holy books stand on the shelves all around.
Rabbi Gottlieb greets us warmly, and our festive meal can begin, accompanied by music from two music students. It's my first time back in Mykolaiv in over three years. Rosalia pulls me into the seat next to her. "I'm so happy to see you again! Tears are welling up in my eyes; I can't stop them. Do you remember when we saw each other last year in Odessa, when my husband and I fled there? You did so much for us. I'll never forget it!"
Immediately after our festive and delicious gathering ended, it suddenly became dark. Now the city is even darker. All the more reason to bring light into our homes right now.
Simcha
Simcha is 97 – and delighted by our visit. For many years, he went to the synagogue every day. Simcha shows me the Hebrew-Russian book of Psalms that he received as a gift from the synagogue. We use the flashlight on our cell phone and read Psalm 121 together, in both languages. “I lift up my eyes to the mountains… Behold, he who keeps Israel neither slumbers nor sleeps.”
Black Sea city in the dark
With every kilometer, our anticipation grows for Odessa, a city so familiar to us. We know our way around here; here we are two hours away from the front line; here we are always welcome.
But the lavish Christmas decorations in front of the restaurants and shops mask the reality of this third winter of war. For hours at a time, the city is shrouded in darkness, block by block. I'm glad I can charge my phone with the power bank I brought with me. My new headlamp helps me sort the presents for the next day in the dark hotel room.
What to do?
After the third nighttime siren, my colleague Alina and I sat at the breakfast table, quite tired, wondering what we should do. The warning app displayed "Air raid alert: Increased danger." The explosions of the air defenses could be heard repeatedly.
There's only lukewarm instant coffee from the emergency generator in the restaurant's basement, where we're expecting 70 Holocaust survivors and Jewish seniors in a few hours for two joyful Hanukkah celebrations. All we can do is pray and activate our prayer network.
Two seconds after I sent the SOS message to my friends, my phone buzzed again: All clear! Another Hanukkah miracle. It remained quiet all day. God spread his protective shield over us and our guests.
Tumbalalaika, shpil Balalaika
Tables festively set, eyes shining, dozens of hugs, overwhelmed words of gratitude – the atmosphere is phenomenal, especially on this day. Lena, a dear friend from the Esra Relief Fund in Kyiv, guides us musically through the event – from tumbalalaika to Am Israel Chai to the Israeli national anthem. Jakow, one of the seniors supported by a sponsor from Germany, accompanies her on the violin. So many emotions fill the air. We are privileged to share a few hours of the often difficult and incredibly lonely lives of our Jewish friends.
Celebrate the day with all your heart
Svetlana, who had already firmly canceled, decided to come after all and hardly wants to let us go. An older gentleman tells me: "I was here for the first time last year. This year, I feel like I'm coming home to a family celebration!" A lady says: "I've been to many events, but this is something else. You do it with such heart, with so much love, it's unique!"
Reweka, whose family comes from Lodz and whom I've grown particularly fond of, shows me a picture of her son on her phone, in uniform. "He was seriously wounded. Now he needs a ventilator all the time. He volunteered for the front, but apart from a meager disability pension, he gets nothing from the army. It's so sad." We share her pain. And our dear Inga pulls me aside and says, "This is such a special day for me. I got some bad news from the doctor this morning. I don't know if we'll ever see each other again. I've decided to celebrate this day with all my heart!"
Setting the table for God's pearls
Four times we have the tables set in Odessa – and we would love to extend the time, because there are still so many lonely Jewish seniors we would like to invite. Odessa still has a large Jewish population, and for the past two years, it has also had many refugees from Kherson. We add to the festive decorations on the lavishly set table, placing a chocolate heart and a small card with the words from Isaiah 41 at each place setting: "Do not be afraid, for I am with you."
Even before everything is set up, the room is filling up. Most of the guests have arrived half an hour early; they've been looking forward to this meeting for so long. Roman Shvartsman, chairman of the Odessa Region Holocaust Survivors Association, is our key contact. At his behest, 40 guests have come who survived ghettos and concentration camps in the region. We meet a spry-looking woman who was born in Auschwitz. At the head of the room, Arkadi is chatting in English with our Dutch guests, Frank van Oordt, director of the CSI in the Netherlands, and his brother Roger, the Israeli honorary consul there, who have joined us for a series of events. Arkadi testified at the Nuremberg Trials and founded the Odessa Holocaust Museum.
The generation that had no childhood
“We are the generation that had no childhood,” says Roman. “And now to hear that even during the GDR era, people in Germany prayed for us every day, and to experience how you welcome us here today, does us so much good!”
On January 29th, Roman will be received in Berlin by Federal President Frank-Walter Steinmeier on the occasion of the 80th anniversary of the liberation of the Auschwitz concentration camp and will then speak in the Bundestag.
What is needed most: hope
Lena's wonderful music – a mix of Yiddish, Hebrew, and Russian – simply makes our dear guests happy. It's so lovely to see how they enjoy every minute of our time together. At the end, they all start dancing.
“There’s a lot we need here in terms of help,” says an elderly woman from Kherson who fled with her entire family at the end of 2022. “But the fact that you left your comfortable home to be here with us—that means more to us than anything else! It gives us what we need most: hope!”
Dear Supporter: Everything our team can do on the ground in Ukraine under extremely difficult conditions to comfort, help, and bring healing is made possible by your support—by every single prayer, by every single gift. How many miracles we have witnessed this week! Yet, it takes someone to call them down from heaven. For this precious service on the "home front," we want to say a heartfelt THANK YOU this Advent season! May the blessing of our loving Father, which you help to release, flow abundantly back into your family!
