Dear Bayit Family,
Today was a hard day. We knew it would be, and it was. We bore witness to great displacement, suffering and uncertainty, and we saw so much human heroism and love in action, and we tried, led by our UJA Federation staff and the exceptional organizations we met and connected to, to bring moments of support and strength and connection. Please bear with this exceptionally long dispatch - I want to try to bring you with us up close to what we saw and what I felt.
The emotions rose as with each step and stop we drew closer to the nerve centers of the refugee crisis, the border crossings. I had the sense as we journeyed yesterday from Warsaw to Srodborow to Lublin, that the further away we were from the border, the more controlled and managed this humanitarian disaster appeared to be. Refugees in these further locations, with all their fears and profound difficulties, appeared more stable as they were in smaller groups, housed in settings more designed for housing, integrating in some small way into city and town and community life - or at least it was possible to imagine that in some way. They were, by virtue of the distance, further removed in time and space from Ukraine, and so while the distance from family left behind was more excruciating, the distance from bombing and immediate danger and terror and the embrace of organized community also provided some relief.
Today we had no luxuries of distance. We boarded our bus at 6:00am in Lublin and traveled to Przemsyl, a major city near the Ukrainian border. A number of you wrote me about your personal family connections to Przemsyl. We have them, too; Shira’s paternal grandfather, and his mother, were both from small towns very near Przemsyl. This history only deepened the feelings as we journeyed. As we drew nearer to Przemsyl, our tour guide pointed out the Polish F-16s in the air, telling us they have been a constant presence since the invasion began, providing border security and protecting the Polish airspace. It was unsettling and comforting at the same time.
Pulling into a McDonald’s parking lot in a commercial section of Przemsyl, we met Mike, an American oleh who has worked in disaster relief consulting and had just arrived yesterday in the next shift of volunteers (they will be taking two week rotations) working with Natan Worldwide Disaster Relief, an amazing Israeli volunteer organization that dispatches teams of doctors, nurses and social workers to create medical clinics in humanitarian crisis locations. They integrate fully with the local community. Natan’s team was partnering with the Polish Red Cross and other Polish NGOs and had volunteers from Hadassah Hospital and Hashomer HaTzair. We brought Mike our nearly 20 orange duffels of medical supplies from Afya, and he told us they would be in use in Ukraine by tomorrow.
A note about the Afya partnership with UJA: this amazing organization, Afya, based in Yonkers, ships medical supplies to crisis zones around the world. In this war zone, it’s not simple to get supplies to where they are needed most in Ukraine. Afya succeeded in getting supplies on commercial planes, but the process was still slower than needed. In large part due to a grant from UJA, Afya has been able to rent a cargo plane and ship more than a million dollars of supplies to get more quickly and effectively into Ukraine.
In the parking lot we were joined by a local mayor who praised the actions of the Polish people who were paving the path which the government then followed and also spoke about the long road ahead, absorbing refugees and helping create sociocultural connections between the Ukrainians and the Poles.
We then met an incredible Polish NGO and two of its lead volunteers (I hope to have the organization name and the volunteer names for my final dispatch when I return). They are a grassroots organization of Poles living near the border in this region who saw the need to act and mobilized. They move back and forth between the Polish and Ukrainian sides at the border crossing and provide medical support, food and water and other needs to those waiting in the border crossing lines. They described the complete desperation of those waiting in the lines. They shared the sobering horror that six people had died in recent days waiting in line to cross the border - from hypothermia or heart attack. The temperatures had been extremely low, there is no light at night, and people are afraid to leave the line - and they can get very sick and, God forbid, die. This group has mobilized to try to be able to care for people while in line and bring them what they need.
After the horrible Sunday bombing by the Russians at Yavoriv, close to the border, their group brought three ambulances (provided by Natan - the Israeli organization described above) to Yavoriv to provide immediate medical care. The volunteers described to us that they also feed and provide for “inner refugees”, people who are in limbo near the border, not ready to leave Ukraine with their loved ones still there but not able to go back home because of the bombing and shelling in their hometowns.
Polish NGOs like this exist at every border crossing, with generous-hearted Poles stepping up to find the needs and meet them. They are all volunteers, many who helped out on a weekend and then took two weeks off of work to continue. They all acknowledged the fear of burnout and the need to professionalize to sustain these efforts which will need to be ongoing, a message we heard from almost every organization we met. “Please tell your communities back home that we are trying to do whatever we can because we see the need and we must meet it, and please thank them for their support,” they shared with us.
Together with Mike from Natan we took the short walk within commercial Przemsyl (pronounced P’shemesh'l, and apparently some of the Israelis call it Beit Shemesh!) to what looked like an old shopping mall which now bore an enormous banner saying Humanitarian Aid Center, Przemsyl. There were supply and resource tents outside. What we saw inside was gripping and hard to describe. In every room (perhaps previously small indoor shops) and lining the halls were makeshift beds - thin mattresses on the floor or on packing pallets, with bedding and blankets of every color and pattern. Almost entirely filled with hundreds of women and children and more elderly men, there was a constant din of activity and commotion and confusion. People milled about or laid on their beds or sat on plastic chairs scattered around, playing with just a few toys or on their phones or just sitting.
There were food court stations staffed by organizations like World Central Kitchen. There were volunteers in every color of vest, soldiers and other guards. We tried to wave, smile and offer gestures of support, and we offered sweets to the children and gave out cards from home. We were brought inside the tiny former shop which housed Natan’s medical clinic. It was cramped and extremely makeshift, and absolutely extraordinary. Stocked with medical supplies, it provided basic medical care for first-line medical concerns to the many who came without their medications, or who were injured on the way or medically compromised from the journey, and a new team of social workers had come to help manage the potential trauma of the everyday reality of these Ukrainian refugees. It was so comforting to be with Israelis - to see the chesed of Medinat Yisrael, and to speak the language, which was a barrier to connecting as much as we wanted with the Ukrainian refugees. We thanked the Israeli volunteers from Natan in Hebrew, blessing them with strength and self-care and expressing to them that their work was ממש הצלת נפשות - truly lifesaving, the highest calling.
The reality inside this humanitarian center was staggering - it felt like having all the air sucked out of me. And equally staggering was the feeling of walking out and leaving the large parking lot and suddenly it was as if everything was normal in commercial Przemsyl. No chaos, no bedlam, no crying children. How could we both see and then suddenly no longer see this sight? This is a question I know will stay with me as I return to you and we think together about how we continue to help in this crisis which will stretch on even as the news headlines will eventually start to shift.
We boarded the bus for a very short trip to the Przemsyl train station. We pulled into the parking lot and spent a few minutes in the small station house and on the platform, witnessing refugees coming off the train from the border crossing, arriving in Przemsyl to figure out what to do next. We gave chocolates to the children and were amazed to see small tables and kiosks with individuals and small groups distributing food, free sim cards, providing information and resources, and helping people board buses to potential next destinations. The refugees we saw here were often visibly emotional. I can only imagine that they were past the initial relief of having made it out, and now faced the full brunt of realizing what they left behind and of not being sure where they were going next. It was hard to maintain my own composure in the face of it, and still we tried to offer words of support, simple moments of “Good luck”, “God bless you,” and “We are with you.”
On our way to the Medyka border crossing, the most stark of our visits, we were blessed to hear from two representatives of the Krakow Jewish community, the Krakow JCC Director Jonathan Orenstein and Krakow’s rabbi Rabbi Avi Baumol. Jonathan shared the extraordinary work the Krakow JCC has done pivoting from day one to be a refugee center and collection point for supplies servicing the entire community and finding hundreds of housing units for those who need. They provide day care and a stable day space for mothers and children as well as language classes and job training for the mothers coming from Ukraine. They just received additional funding to secure 30 more hotel rooms and help that many more Ukrainians have some temporary security. They are partnering with other NGO’s to serve hundreds more in Krakow and to set up medical facilities and staff providing care on the Ukrainian side of the border. They even run walking tours of Krakow to help the refugees learn their way around and also to help them get out and about rather than staying cooped up wherever their temporary housing is. They have helped 5,000 Ukrainians, many Jewish, already.
Rabbi Baumol told us the story of Romek, an evangelical Christian who attended Rabbi Baumol’s Torah classes that he offers for some interested contacts in the non-Jewish Krakow community. Romek, seeing what was beginning to unfold, even before the invasion began, built a relationship with the border guards at one border crossing. Once the influx of refugees began, Romek was able to travel back and forth freely and ferry over the most elderly and vulnerable from Lviv, in particular from the Jewish community - people who would likely not have survived waiting in the border crossing lines. He would bring supplies to Lviv and return with people, and the guards allowed him to cross straight through. Truly a hero.
As we arrived in Medyka, the border crossing town, we were met by Tzvi Sperber, Director of JRoots. Here, the story - the extraordinary story I have tried to share about the Warsaw JCC, the Krakow JCC, the Yeshivat Chachmei Lublin/Hotel Ilan, the JDC Cheseds, and so many other pre-existing on-the-ground Jewish organizations - repeats itself. JRoots, an organization that facilitates educational, immersive journeys to Jewish communities around the world, works extensively with many contacts around Europe. As such, they paused their trip guiding when the invasion began and pivoted to coordinate refugee relief efforts and convene multiple organizations to create more cooperation and enable servicing of the smaller towns and communities in Ukraine that were underserved and overlooked. Tzvi took us to the remains of the small shul of the Medyka Jewish community, a shtetl which was destroyed in the Shoah and where the Jews of Przemysl where murdered and buried in a nearby park. Against that horrific backdrop we beheld the efforts of all these reborn Jewish organizations caring for Jewish and non-Jewish Ukrainian refugees.
We drove just a few minutes and then proceeded on foot to the Medyka border crossing. It’s truly hard to put into words what we saw. Tents and booths lined the path from the parking lot to the border crossing. Tables with food and supplies bearing the banners of NGOs from many countries and faiths, from Norwegians to Mexicans to Scots, to Sikhs to Jehovah’s Witnesses to evangelical Christians. It was organized and chaotic all at the same time. As we approached the crossing, the last tent, which was the first tent one would see when crossing the border, bore an Israeli flag and a French flag. It was the tent of Rescuers Without Borders/SSF, an emergency rescue humanitarian medical organization founded in Israel in 2000 in the second intifada, now in 14 countries around the world. They have a team of Israelis here providing medical care right off the border, and they are planning to be here for months, and seeking more doctors.
We stood at their tent and watched as mostly women and children emerged from the distance on foot, in smaller and larger groups, often with Polish soldiers helping them carry babies and push strollers, crossing through the no-man’s-land between the Ukrainian side and the Polish side. We clapped, we cheered, we shared smiles and extended hands, and we welcomed them. It was hard to put into words the gulf between what they were experiencing in that moment and our very different place as observers, and yet intensely I felt the familiarity of our own national refugee story time and again, softening my heart further to these individuals fleeing from danger and into an unknown.
We turned back to the Israelis and recited Psalm 130 with them, and then sang Acheinu together, in which I added our usual Bayit formulation, אחינו כל בית ישראל וכל יושבי תבל - a prayer for our siblings - all Jewish people and all humankind that are suffering and in need. We could tell how worn down the Israelis were from what they were seeing and their around the clock work. We showered them with blessings in Hebrew and shared tears.
We walked back through the path away from the border crossing to our bus, overwhelmed, and returned the 6 hour trip to Warsaw, and I was continually thinking about those we saw at the border crossing and the train station and the humanitarian aid center, wondering what fate awaited these strangers - strangers to me and strangers in a new land to them.
Throughout the day, being present with the real people experiencing all of this upheaval and pain, I had the image and narrative of our patriarch Yaakov the refugee accompanying me. Yaakov leaves his family of origin behind, fearing for his life because his brother Esav has threatened it. He sleeps on the ground with a rock for a pillow, and dreams of angelic protectors, and he asks God for the most basic necessities - bread to eat and clothing to wear, and the ultimate prayer to return home in peace, which he does, many years later. He crosses a border crossing at the Jordan River, with just his walking stick, alone and afraid. He never settles down fully even as he builds a life in a new land - his dreams and his soul call him home.
The rays of hope in this time of fear for these refugees were the many hundreds of angelic protectors, מלאכי א-להים, that we met over the last two days.
They were the Jewish communities and institutions who sought the welfare and provided a safety net for every Jew, and every Ukrainian who sought their services. As Arie Levy, the Israeli founder and president of SSF said to us, “when I was asked to set up a tent to provide medical support for specifically Jewish refugees, I had one answer: 'Eighty years ago, selection was practiced against us. We will never do that to anyone. We are all the children of God.’”
They were the Poles who have taken the last almost three weeks off of their jobs to volunteer around the clock to stand up organizations and go where no one was going to provide aid and save lives and build infrastructure, even endangering their own lives.
We got connected to every one of these angels through UJA Federation of New York and the on the ground connections they have already, and the new organizations they are able to discover and support. I have been blown away by their work - you can support their
Ukrainian Relief Fund here for your dollars to go to all these organizations doing the on the ground work. As Rabbi Schudrich, the Chief Rabbi of Poland, said tonight to us, as we concluded our day, over dinner with a variety of JFNA lay leaders who have come from many communities around North America to see what we have seen, hearing a number of speakers (including the head of Hillel of Poland who is preparing to deliver Mishloach Manot on Purim to hundreds of refugees that the Hillel and its young adult constituents are now supporting), as Rabbi Schudrich said to us all, “The more you send, the more we can do.”
As Yaakov the refugee prepares to return home to the land of Canaan, his birthplace and homeland, he meets another set of angels, as the text uses for his encounter the same verb - פגע - that it used when he left home and encountered the angels in his dream:
וְיַעֲקֹ֖ב הָלַ֣ךְ לְדַרְכּ֑וֹ וַיִּפְגְּעוּ־ב֖וֹ מַלְאֲכֵ֥י אֱ-לֹהִֽים׃
And Yaakov went on his journey, and he encountered angels of God. (Gen 32:2)In a few hours, before our final breakfast meeting and return home tomorrow morning, I, together with some from our group, will take a ten minute walk to the Warsaw hotel where, just 36 hours ago, we met a number of Ukrainian refugees being serviced by the Jewish Agency preparing for aliyah. They will board a bus to the airport at 6:30am and fly to their new home - to Israel.
We plan to play a small role as messengers of God, with signs and songs, to send them on their way, before we return home to New York. I know you will be singing Hatikvah with me as we pray for the welfare of these families, and their loved ones remaining in Ukraine, and bless them with strength and courage on their aliyah.
There are too many loose ends of today’s experiences to tie up now. I just leave you with gratitude for coming with me on today’s journey, and I pray to return home with strength and to be able to distill these experiences together with you and think together about the ongoing roles of support our Bayit can play.
Love and gratitude,
Steven
Photos (left to right): Top Row - with the amazing volunteer from the Polish NGO working on the Ukrainian side of the border, and R' Joel Mosbacher from our group; walking with the Natan representative to the Humanitarian Aid Center in Przemsyl; the Przemsyl train station with refugees boarding a bus; Bottom Row - the remains of the shul in Medyka (you can see the Jewish stars at the top of the large archways); the Israeli flag over the SSF medical tent at the Medyka border crossing; hearing from a JDC border crossing staffer with refugees and Polish soldiers approaching the Medyka crossing behind the fence.
