Skip to content

Where different views on Israel and Judaism are welcome.

  • Home
  • Subscribe / donate
  • Events calendar
  • News
    • Local
    • National
    • Israel
    • World
    • עניין בחדשות
      A roundup of news in Canada and further afield, in Hebrew.
  • Opinion
    • From the JI
    • Op-Ed
  • Arts & Culture
    • Performing Arts
    • Music
    • Books
    • Visual Arts
    • TV & Film
  • Life
    • Celebrating the Holidays
    • Travel
    • The Daily Snooze
      Cartoons by Jacob Samuel
    • Mystery Photo
      Help the JI and JMABC fill in the gaps in our archives.
  • Community Links
    • Organizations, Etc.
    • Other News Sources & Blogs
    • Business Directory
  • FAQ
  • JI Chai Celebration
  • [email protected]! video

Search

Archives

"The Basketball Game" is a graphic novel adaptation of the award-winning National Film Board of Canada animated short of the same name – intended for audiences aged 12 years and up. It's a poignant tale of the power of community as a means to rise above hatred and bigotry. In the end, as is recognized by the kids playing the basketball game, we're all in this together.

Recent Posts

  • תוכנית הנשיא הרצוג
  • Who decides what culture is?
  • Time of change at the Peretz
  • Gallup poll concerning
  • What survey box to check?
  • The gift of sobriety
  • Systemic change possible?
  • Survivor breaks his silence
  • Burying sacred books
  • On being an Upstander
  • Community milestones … Louis Brier Jewish Aged Foundation, Chabad Richmond
  • Giving for the future
  • New season of standup
  • Thinker on hate at 100
  • Beauty amid turbulent times
  • Jewish life in colonial Sumatra
  • About this year’s Passover cover art
  • The modern seder plate
  • Customs from around world
  • Leftovers made yummy
  • A Passover chuckle …
  • המשבר החמור בישראל
  • Not your parents’ Netanyahu
  • Finding community in art
  • Standing by our family
  • Local heads new office
  • Hillel BC marks its 75th
  • Give to increase housing
  • Alegría a gratifying movie
  • Depictions of turbulent times
  • Moscovitch play about life in Canada pre-legalized birth control
  • Helping people stay at home
  • B’nai mitzvah tutoring
  • Avoid being scammed
  • Canadians Jews doing well
  • Join rally to support Israeli democracy

Recent Tweets

Tweets by @JewishIndie

Tag: Joint Distribution Committee

Helping Ukrainian refugees

Helping Ukrainian refugees

On March 5, in western Ukraine, children and families make their way to the border to cross into Poland. (photo © UNICEF/Viktor Moskaliuk)

A friend described to me once what Warsaw looked like in the aftermath of the Second World War. A small boy then, he remembered vividly the ripped apartment buildings, whole sides of buildings missing. When you raised your head, he said, you could see a bed up there, one leg hanging over the precipice, the chimney, a chair stuck in half fall. The lives turned into ruins and exposed.

The “noble” war, as Russian President Vladimir Putin calls it, has killed thousands. Other thousands have been taken into filtration camps by Russians. The war has uprooted the lives of millions. It has separated wives from husbands, children from fathers. It has laid bare what is usually concealed from the eyes of a stranger: human attachments and loves, support for one another and acts of kindness. But also, the seismic faults running through so many families; their discontents, their arguments, and the way they cope with them in the time of crises.

Inadvertently, I became privy to the lives of many simply because I happened to be there at the time of their great vulnerability and need. Those I met (and, with rare exceptions, these were women with children) were going through the horrors and desolation of war. All, without exception, were traumatized. All needed practical help, advice, information and, above all, empathy.

But what they also needed, I discovered, was to talk about what they had gone through. That need was spontaneous and raw. They broke into stories easily and without invitation on my part. Each story was different, yet many followed the similar pattern: destruction and loss of property or homes; weeks in basements with scarce water, food supplies and electricity; the howl of air raid sirens; separation from loved ones and concern about their well-being; screams of traumatized children; and, then, finally evacuation, finally escape, over many days. Escape on foot, by trains, buses or sometimes cars, with detours necessitated by rockets and missiles; crossing rivers on boats where bridges were blown up.

I heard repeated gratitude to Ukrainian volunteers who facilitated the escapes, relaying families from one safe place to another; informing about the dangers on the way and how to bypass them. I heard stories of churches that sheltered families overnight; of people harbouring strangers in their homes; of volunteers who organized food that awaited fleeing families at different points of their long and hazardous journey to safety. I learned a new word – humanitarka, meaning clothing (and perhaps food) that poured into Ukraine from the West as humanitarian aid.

And I heard stories of the brutality of Russian soldiers towards civilians. I heard stories of looting, torture and rape. I heard stories of Russian soldiers leaving villages and shooting in their wake every cow, every chicken, so that the owners would be left with nothing; gratuitously smashing all the preservatives Ukrainians traditionally prepare for winter. I heard how Russian soldiers pretended they would allow villagers to run to safety, only to shoot them in their legs, and finish them off later like hunted animals. I heard stories of booby-trapped corpses, of Russians abandoning their dead.

In the two-and-a-half weeks I volunteered with the Joint Distribution Committee (JDC) at a border crossing and in a refugee shelter several kilometres away from the Polish border with Ukraine, I met people of all walks of life – I met the Ukrainian Nation.

I met a grandmother who escaped missiles with her six grandchildren and made it to Poland while the parents of the children had perished.

I met a man, a welder, looking after his old and infirm mother. They couldn’t possibly live with any family, the man explained, because his mother became psychotic and incontinent, and he regularly had to clean up after her. The welder was now trying to bring to Poland his former wife with her new husband and their three children, one of whom was his.

I met 60 elderly Baptists from Zaporizhzhia who were on the way to Amsterdam, where a sister Baptist church was going to shelter them. Zaporizhshia is the site of the largest atomic plant in Europe and it had been overtaken by Russian soldiers. It’s the city where my relatives live. Talking to these refugees, I realized that my aunt had been concealing the truth from me all along: the rockets are falling 10 kilometres away from the city.

I discovered that the most painful subject and the last thing that came up in conversations was the fact that women had had to leave their loved ones behind. The worry for their soldier sons and husbands, their parents, grandparents and siblings, was a deeply hidden, yet constant, heartbreak. It was a breaking point for many. I will not forget those eyes, dozens and dozens of women’s eyes: blue, grey, greenish; eyes magnified by tears at the thought of the separation from loved ones. When a collective image of Ukraine comes to my mind, it’s women’s eyes. Embarrassed to cry in front of me, a stranger, they tried to look away. The older sister would often say to the younger, “Enough already, just stop it!” while breaking into tears herself.

Another move that caused tears was my offering of money to refugees, the generous donations that I had received while I was still in Vancouver. In Canada, I had packed lots of envelopes to put the money into, for a civilized handout. How naïve I was! In the chaos of a refugee centre, it was quickly handing over money from hands to hands. A scared look and the initial refusal to accept was universal. I had to come up with some strategy to overcome the mutual embarrassment. “This is not my money,” I would say. “This is from Canadian friends, people like you. Canadians care about you. They want to help you. But they can’t be here. They asked me to do it for them. Please take it.” A grateful look. Tears. A hug.

The refugee centre was a temporary shelter. Refugees could spend several nights there and then move on: to some city, some country.

The vast majority of the refugees I met were determined to return home once the war was over. But they had made it to Poland and many would have liked to stay there while the war was raging. Poland was familiar; it has cultural and historical ties with Ukraine, especially with the western part of Ukraine.

In the post-Soviet times, before this war, thousands of Ukrainians had gone to Poland for work: a member of the European Union, Polish standards of living and salaries were higher than Ukrainian. Besides, the Polish language was closer to Ukrainian than any others of the countries that came forward to help. It would be manageable somehow; it could be learned, if not by everybody, at least by the younger people. But Poland couldn’t take in any more refugees. Posters in the refugee centre read in Ukrainian: “We are happy to welcome you, but our cities are full. Our small rural communities are cozy and peaceful. Consider moving there.” But even small villages were full and couldn’t afford to welcome any more people.

The women who arrived at the refugee centre accepted with resignation the fact that they would have to be on the move again. The way they decided where to go next somewhat surprised me: it wasn’t on the basis of a better financial package or living conditions. Rather, the criteria was proximity to Ukraine. The first question that women asked me about various countries also seemed unusual: they wanted to know if they would be able to find work quickly. I would talk about the hardships they had just endured; the necessity to rest, to take a break, to look around first. But that didn’t register. They have worked all their lives, they said. They are used to work. Living for free at somebody’s expenses was a no-no.

Most of the Ukrainian women I met were mild-mannered and perhaps less assertive, less forceful, compared to North American ones. All were both surprised and grateful for the help and goodwill they’d seen from so many. They couldn’t praise enough what the Poles did for them. They were deeply touched by the smallest acts of kindness. And none took the help for granted. “If this happened to other nations and we, Ukrainians, would have to do this for somebody else, would we have done the same? I am not sure,” said one woman.

Few discussed the wider political implications of the war. They didn’t talk about Putin or his goals, or the future of their country. Their concerns were more practical and immediate: food, clothing and the well-being of their children, their elderly mothers.

But I remember one woman, Nina, and her fiery indignation: “What have we done to Russians? What do they want from us? We didn’t bother anybody. Nazi? What Nazi? We live peacefully with our neighbours: gypsies, Jews, Ukrainians, Russians. We all speak Ukrainian and Russian!”

Another, older, woman, while waiting for the bus to Germany, was even more emphatic: “You tell me why Russians believe Putin’s propaganda? Why do they have the mentality of slaves? We Ukrainians may have our problems. But we’re free people. Russians are slaves! Slaves.” (The word “slave” in Russian usage has strongly negative connotations, implying the qualities of subservience, fear, and the desire to please the master.)

I thought about these words. I don’t have an answer to her question. Nor do I have any convincing arguments against her harsh indictment.

* * *

photos - Refugees entering Poland from Ukraine at the Medyka border crossing point
Refugees entering Poland from Ukraine at the Medyka border crossing point. (photo © UNHCR/Chris Melzer)

I’m still trying to comprehend and, in some way, come to terms with what I experienced over 16 days. It began when I flew into Warsaw from Vancouver and was picked up at the airport by a JDC representative. Together with two volunteers from the United States, we were driven to the Polish-Ukrainian border, where a small group of Holocaust survivors was to arrive. The drive took four to five hours and, by the time we got to the border, it was totally dark and bitterly cold.

Arrangements had been made with Germany that it would take in the Holocaust survivors. The German Red Cross ambulance bus had traveled 13 hours. I learned later that everybody in the ambulance was a volunteer – the driver was a history teacher, the three women were professional nurses donating hours and hours of service.

I wondered how it was possible to find a few Holocaust survivors in a warring country and bring them to safety. It turned out that the Jewish Agency had used the lists of survivors receiving financial assistance before the war to contact and evacuate them.

What struck me most at the time was the sight of several empty white canvass stretchers on the dirt next to the bus. It started to drizzle; the Germans stacked the stretchers and covered them with a tarp. The stretchers, soon to be filled with people, were a menacing sign of the proximity of war, invisible yet close. When the bus from Ukraine finally arrived, one body was carried out on a stretcher. So emaciated and skeletal was this body that, for a moment, I wondered why they were transporting a corpse with the living. When I looked closer, I saw that it was a woman, wounded and emaciated to an extreme degree but alive. For the next while, the Germans administered an IV to the seemingly unresponsive body. I overheard a conversation between two nurses: one wondering if the woman would be able to make it to Germany. They asked her a question – I translated – was she in pain? The woman shook her head. The Germans proceeded to take care of others.

Six other women got off the bus with some help from the Red Cross people and us.

One lady clutched her battered black purse that was overflowing with some papers. She refused to board the ambulance bus. A nurse and I held her up against the bitter wind, while she told us that her son was waiting for her here, around the corner, that he was going to pick her up. We finally figured out what she meant: her son was in Germany and she believed that she had arrived to Germany, not Poland. Efforts were made to contact her son right there, and somebody got him on the phone or they said they did, I’m not sure. But somehow the matter was settled: the woman agreed to board the ambulance.

None of these old and frail women escaped with any possessions to speak of: a handbag, a sack, was all they managed to take. But that little something was now the focus of their attention; a symbol of their lost nests, and they feverishly clung to it.

One woman finally settled on a stretcher inside the ambulance, her purse sitting on top of her chest. Another plowed through her handbag in search of a watch, the only item left from her late husband, she said; she couldn’t find it, believed it was stolen and was distraught.

Yet another was worried about her frequent need to urinate. A nurse and I led her to the blue booths on the side of the road. She whispered in my ear, asking if I could take her alone: the nurse had accompanied her to the booth before; it was too embarrassing to need to go again.

None of the Holocaust survivors seemed to be clear about what was going on and where they were going next. Finding out that there would be another 13 hours of travel to Frankfurt on top of the hours of travel behind her, one of the passengers refused to go. “I won’t be able to take it,” she said. “I lived through German occupation once and now it’s the Russians. I’ve had enough.”

The last to arrive (I think in a separate bus) was a man. With nothing in his hands, he seemed to be unperturbed by the lack of any worldly possessions. He came from Kyiv. “I didn’t want to leave. But I’m an invalid. I live on the third floor and can’t go downstairs into the basement during the air raids,” he explained. “My son was worried and decided to pack me off to Germany. One way or the other, what difference does it make for me after all I’ve lived through? I remember the Germans. They didn’t do to us what the Russians are doing.”

For almost anyone, this would be the most stunning statement. The Nazis, the Germans, and their allies, committed terrible atrocities during the Second World War (“the Great Patriotic War,” as it was officially called in the Soviet Union, where I grew up). They were inhuman in their cruelty; they were beasts. I still remember the games of my childhood that we played in our yards: the good guys were Russians, the bad ones were Nazis, the Fritzes, as we called them.

I thought about it as I was watched the German nurses taking care, with utmost attention and patience, of the elderly Ukrainian Jews, the Holocaust survivors, escaping Russian atrocities in the 21st century.

Marina Sonkina is a fiction writer, and teaches in the Liberal Arts Program 55+ at Simon Fraser University. She immigrated to Canada with her two then-young sons, as the Soviet Union was breaking up. When Russia attacked Ukraine, she applied as a volunteer with the Jewish Joint Distribution Committee. She arrived in Poland early this month and was a frontline responder for 16 days, offering refugees medical and psychological support.

Format ImagePosted on April 22, 2022April 21, 2022Author Marina SonkinaCategories WorldTags JDC, Joint Distribution Committee, Poland, refugees, Russia, Ukraine, volunteering, war
A rewarding trip to Siberia

A rewarding trip to Siberia

Several Vancouverites traveled to Siberia to see members of the Jewish community, which the Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver helps support. (photo from Michael Moscovich)

Last September, a group of seven travelers representing the Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver set off on an expedition to the far east of Siberia. Jews going to Siberia? Had to be a very good reason. And there was.

For more than a decade, the Jewish Federation, in partnership with the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee (JDC), has been contributing to the support of Jews in need, wherever they may live in the world. Federation’s Israel and overseas committee chose to help the closest Jewish communities in abject poverty and those are in Siberia’s far east. Khabarovsk is the main city in the area and Birobidzhan is the capital of the Jewish republic, or oblast, of Russia. Jewish republic! Long story.

photo - The Russian city of Khabarovsk
The Russian city of Khabarovsk. (photo from Michael Moscovich)

Khabarovsk is about the size of Winnipeg and the winters are about the same, only a little colder – when we were there in the fall, it was generally above 20°C. Birobidzhan has a population of only about 75,000 and both cities are located by very large rivers. Each has a new synagogue/community centre.

photo - The synagogue in Birobidzhan
The synagogue in Birobidzhan. (photo from Michael Moscovich)

In Siberia, the younger people have jobs and seem to do well, but the pensioners are lost. Their pensions may have been adequate 20 years ago but the ruble has fallen to two cents. Their income is maybe $20 to $40 a month. Their choice is to feed themselves, heat their home or buy their medicines. Through the JDC, Federation makes it possible to do all three by supplementing their monthly income. It also supports people with disabilities who are unable to work.

I am a founding member of Federation and its Israel and overseas committee, and have visited Jewish communities in Poland, western Russia, Austria, Morocco and Cuba. No Vancouver representative had visited our Siberian partners before to see what we’re helping to accomplish. The trip was very rewarding. We saw signs of the rebirth of Siberian Jewish life.

The Russian city of Khabarovsk. (photo from Michael Moscovich)
The Russian city of Khabarovsk. (photo from Michael Moscovich)
photo - Biribojan, in Yiddish
Biribojan, in Yiddish. (photo from Michael Moscovich)

Most of the people we met were not English speakers, but we had enough interpreters that language was never a problem. We were also bonded by Yiddishkeit, though the community had had no Jewish education or ceremonies for decades, since Stalin decided to ban the Jewish part of the Jewish republic. No one even spoke a word of Yiddish – this in a place where there was a thriving Yiddish-based culture until the 1950s. But the street signs in Birobidzhan are still written in Yiddish and there are other symbols of Jewish life, such as a menorah on the monument at the train station.

During our visit, we joined in baking challot and delivered them to elderly widows. Upon entering one home, our hostess staggered and almost collapsed. Subsequently, whenever she looked at me she blanched and teared up. I asked what was the matter and she said I looked so much like her father it was like seeing a ghost. She showed me pictures of him and, indeed, he was a handsome devil and doppelgänger.

There are maybe 15,000 Jews left in the area. All have the option of relocating to Israel and most have. However, one guy returned, as there was no ice fishing in Israel. Another returned as a Chabad rabbi to lead the Birobidzhan congregation. A young woman came back to be with her grandmother. So many stories.

The elderly spoke to us of the war and survival. I asked what happens to the non-Jewish people in similar circumstances with no outside support. They just died, was the reply. We are truly saving lives.

Format ImagePosted on January 11, 2019January 9, 2019Author Michael MoscovichCategories WorldTags former Soviet Union, FSU, JDC, Jewish Federation, Joint Distribution Committee, philanthropy, Siberia, tikkun olam
Bringing hope, saving lives

Bringing hope, saving lives

Right to left: Peter Legge interviews Dr. Rick Hodes and Dr. Oheneba Boachie-Adjei. Three of Hodes’ adopted children joined them onstage. (photo by Cynthia Ramsay)

An Evening to Bring Back Hope on June 8 raised almost $2 million for the work of Dr. Rick Hodes, medical director of Ethiopia for the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee (JDC) and senior consultant at Mother Teresa Mission; spine surgeon Dr. Oheneba Boachie-Adjei, president and founder of FOCOS (Foundation of Orthopedics and Complex Spine) in Ghana; and the University of British Columbia Branch for International Surgical Care.

photo - Bring Back Hope co-chairs Nanci and Gary Segal
Bring Back Hope co-chairs Nanci and Gary Segal. (photo by Cynthia Ramsay)

The evening at Vancouver Convention Centre-East began with remarks from representatives of the three main religious communities in attendance: Jewish, Christian and Muslim. A two-minute video that was introduced by Justin Segal – son of gala co-chairs Gary and Nanci Segal – and Tesfaye Anagaw – who has become a part of the Segal family – showed the many things that had been accomplished with the funds raised at the previous Evening to Bring Back Hope, which took place in 2012.

There were greetings from senior representatives of JDC, Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver and the UBC Branch, as well as an onstage interview by Peter Legge of Hodes and Boachie-Adjei, with many stories about the courage of their patients.

Gary Segal spoke about how he was inspired to help by Anagaw, Hodes and Boachie-Adjei. He met first met Hodes as part of a 2007 Federation/JDC trip to Ethiopia, where he learned that Anagaw’s spine had collapsed from tuberculosis and could not be operated on in Ghana. With the help of the Segals and others, the young man, then 18, arrived here in mid-2009 and received the life-saving surgery he needed at Vancouver General Hospital.

photo - Rick Hansen, left, and Tesfaye Anagaw
Rick Hansen, left, and Tesfaye Anagaw. (photo by Cynthia Ramsay)

The story of Mesfin Yanna, one of Hodes’ heart patients, was told through a video and the reading of an essay he wrote for his high school graduation in Atlanta – these were followed by his appearance onstage, holding his 5-year-old son. “This is a man who would have died twice were it not for Rick but has gone onto a productive life and one of giving back,” said Segal after the event.

Looking back, he said the event achieved his main goals: raising a large sum of money to support Hodes’ work and save as many lives as possible, to “inspire everyone in the room and, for at least that one night, bring a ray of light into an often-dark world filled with unfathomable violence and infuse people with a message of hope for our common humanity.”

Both Hodes (with three of his adopted sons) and Anagaw came to Vancouver from Ethiopia for the event, and stayed for a visit.

Format ImagePosted on June 30, 2017June 29, 2017Author Bring Back HopeCategories LocalTags Bring Back Hope, Ethiopia, FOCOS, Gary Segal, Jewish Federation, Joint Distribution Committee, Oheneba Boachie-Adjei, Rick Hodes
Message to Vancouver

Message to Vancouver

Masha Shumatskaya’s visit here was part of an American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee tour of North American cities. (photo from Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver)

All Masha Shumatskaya wants is for the fighting to stop so she can go home. The 24-year-old Jewish Ukrainian English teacher was living and working happily in the city of Donetsk until April 2014, when pro-Russian separatists arrived two hours north of her hometown and declared their intention to form a people’s republic.

Until that moment, her life had been quite ordinary. Shumatskaya, a slender beauty with gentle eyes, was one of some 15,000 Jews in Donetsk, a city that boasts a Jewish community centre, a Chabad-run synagogue, a kosher café and various Jewish youth and cultural groups. “I never once experienced antisemitism growing up there,” she said. “I was never afraid to say I was a Jew.”

By May 2014, the pro-Russian separatists had moved into Donetsk and were threatening the safety of civilians. They bombed the Donetsk airport and the violence forced the closure of many schools and business offices in the city. Shumatskaya and her friends began making plans to move to other cities in Ukraine, such as Kiev, Odessa and Kharkov. She chose Kharkov, five hours’ drive from Donetsk, leaving her parents behind.

But Shumatskaya is one of the lucky ones. There are some 7,000 Jews still living in the war zone in Ukraine, many of them elderly. They’re dependent on the Joint Distribution Committee’s aid for food, medical support, rental subsidies and basic necessities.

Shumatskaya was in Vancouver recently as a guest of JDC, where she met with Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver representatives and media to tell her story. With her was Michael Novick, executive director of the American Jewish JDC in Bellevue, Wash. “The situation in Ukraine has become a high priority for the JDC,” he said. “It’s not just the Jews, mostly elderly, still living in the conflict zone, but also the 2,500 Jews who’ve fled and need assistance, and another 60,000 Jews we’ve been helping all along with basic humanitarian supplies.” The JDC estimates the cost of its monthly relief for these Jews to be more than $387,000 US.

The political unrest has had widespread effect. The Ukrainian economy has plummeted, the purchasing power of the Ukrainian currency, the hryvnia, has dropped more than 50 percent and inflation is between 25 and 30 percent. “A year ago, the average pension of an elderly person we were assisting was equivalent to $150 US. Today, that same pension is only worth $50 US,” Novick said. “People have lost their jobs, their businesses, and Jews who could previously take care of their own families are now coming to the JDC’s Hesed welfare centres.”

The JDC has 32 Hesed welfare centres in Ukraine, and 160 of them across the former Soviet Union. Among those Jews requiring their services in Ukraine, Novick said they represent “the poorest Jews on earth, living in really dire conditions. For them, the lifeline provided by Hesed in terms of supplemental, basic humanitarian assistance, is vital.”

He added that the emergency funds being supplied by JDC are not part of its budget. “But the situation in Ukraine is so dire that we’re not waiting – we’re simply spending money and hoping that individuals, federations and foundations that meet Masha and hear about this story will come to our assistance.”

Shumatskaya’s 10-day visit to North America included stops in Seattle, Vancouver, Los Angeles, Philadelphia and New York. Last year, JFGV made a $25,000 grant to JDC for its various programs.

As she looked to the future, Shumatskaya was uncertain what it would hold for her. “I feel attached to Ukraine and I feel some responsibility to help with what’s going on there,” she said. “If I had to leave Kharkov I don’t know where I’d go. But I know that I don’t want to become a war refugee again. Once in my life was quite enough.”

Her message to Vancouver’s Jewish community is twofold: a reminder that Jews are responsible for each other, and one of gratitude for the support she and her fellow Ukrainian Jews have all ready received.

“Without that support we literally would not have survived,” she said. “I wish we could finish this need for assistance fast, but it’s out of our hands. We’re praying every day that we can live in a peaceful country without the assistance provided by the JDC.”

Lauren Kramer, an award-winning writer and editor, lives in Richmond, B.C. To read her work online, visit laurenkramer.net.

Posted on March 27, 2015March 26, 2015Author Lauren KramerCategories LocalTags JDC, Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver, JFGV, Joint Distribution Committee, Masha Shumatskaya, Ukraine
Jewish Cuba mission

Jewish Cuba mission

Michael and Phyllis Moscovich in Cuba. (photo from Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver)

When community lay leaders Michael and Phyllis Moscovich were planning their most recent mission trip, they never imagined discovering Jewish ties to former Cuban president Fidel Castro, and the vibrant community that exists on the island.

Michael, a committed volunteer with Jewish Federation and a board member for several years, is currently a member of Federation’s Israel and overseas affairs committee, as well as its Partnership2Gether committee. He and Phyllis also jointly chair the Ethiopian students internship program. The couple’s shared passion for travel and interest in Jewry across the Diaspora has motivated them to participate in nine previous Federation missions. Last October, they participated in their first American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee (JDC) mission to Havana, with a group of like-minded community members from North Carolina.

“I wanted to see Cuba before the regime changed and am always interested in Jewish communities elsewhere,” explained Michael.

JDC missions provide participants with a highly personal perspective on daily life for Jews and others in more than 70 countries in which JDC operates.

Cuban Jews have lived on the island for centuries, some tracing their ancestry as far back as the late 15th century to “anusim” who fled the Spanish Inquisition. In a February 2007 story, the New York Times estimated that there were about 1,500 identified Jews living in Cuba, most of them (about 1,100) living in Havana. The article added, “This small Jewish presence [in 2007] is in stark contrast to the bustling community that existed before Fidel Castro came to power in 1959. In those days, there were 15,000 Jews and five synagogues in Havana alone.”

JDC’s re-entry into Cuba in 1991 has sparked a Jewish resurgence on the island and a growing awareness of the community and its rich history. As it does elsewhere across the globe, JDC, in partnership with the local community, provides assistance to Cuba’s Jews, develops Jewish leaders and has prompted a revitalization of Jewish life. Working with JDC, the community has established a Jewish summer camp, adult education, an Israeli dance festival and communal holiday celebrations.

The mission visited all the operating synagogues in Havana, the Jewish cemetery and all the major tourist sites. “We met several times with members of the community, highlighted for us by a lunch with an unassuming fellow who spoke little English,” shared Michael. “By the end of lunch, we had determined he had been Fidel’s personal bodyguard for over a decade.”

One of the more surprising revelations of the trip for Michael and Phyllis is that there never seems to have been overt antisemitism in Cuba. “Fidel never even knew our guy was Jewish, until he attended a Chanukah celebration at one of the synagogues where one of the members mentioned that his bodyguard was a synagogue member,” Michael remarked. Also noteworthy is the fact that the young people are allowed to make aliyah, when almost no one else is allowed exit visas.

The opportunity to immerse themselves in the community was enlightening. “My expectations were all met. Seeing Havana, [getting a taste of] the regime, getting a sense of what 45 years of communism can do to an otherwise colorful and vibrant country,” said Michael. More remarkable from his perspective was “seeing the Jewish community and how it is sustaining itself.”

Michael and Phyllis took away with them enduring memories of the tenacity of the Jewish community and the vibrancy of the entire population, despite the hardships the regime has brought on its people. “It was great to travel with similarly committed Jews, to see the great work JDC has done, to meet our brethren, to see again what communism does and doesn’t do, to see it crumbling however slowly,” Michael explained. “The experience re-confirmed my personal commitment to the community, here and overseas.”

Federation invites you to participate in a mission trip to Vienna, Budapest and Israel, with mission chairs Anita and Arnold Silber, from Oct. 11-22, 2015. Visit the Israel and Overseas Experiences page on Federation’s website (jewishvancouver.com) for more information about opportunities to visit Israel and experience Jewish life in communities around the world. You can also donate to this year’s campaign via the website.

– This article was originally published in eYachad, and is reprinted with permission.

Format ImagePosted on November 7, 2014November 5, 2014Author Jewish Federation of Greater VancouverCategories TravelTags Cuba, JDC, Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver, Joint Distribution Committee, Michael Moscovich, Phyllis Moscovich
Proudly powered by WordPress