2
THE REPORTER ■ august 27, 2015
a matter of opinion Hope, lost and found, for Ukraine’s Jews By Etta Gross Zimmerman JNS.org “Start worrying. Details to follow.” It’s not just the irreverent punch line of a joke about the content of a Jewish telegram. It is also the only way I can describe the situation in Ukraine, a country suffering from violent conflict, wide-ranging economic collapse, and a humanitarian crisis of untold proportions. I experienced a taste of this crisis during my most recent trip to the beleaguered Eastern European nation together with a group of passionate Jewish leaders on behalf of the Jewish Federations of North America. Like the others on the trip, I was transported thousands of miles from my safe life in the U.S. to Dnepropetrovsk, Ukraine’s fourth-largest city, located 100 miles west of the separatist-controlled regions of Donetsk and Lugansk. It was there that we got to understand better the realities that have beset Ukraine throughout the last year and a half. We saw first-hand how the Euromaidan clashes, Crimean annexation, financial chaos and protracted violence in eastern Ukraine have impacted a population of people who had faced major socio-economic challenges even before this crisis began. What was most striking was the presence of many of the 1.3 million Ukrainians who have become displaced within the country’s borders. Commonly referred to as Internally Displaced People, or IDPs, they are attempting desperately to forge new lives in strange cities far from their former lives. There has been scant news on their specific suffering, especially with a world refugee crisis reaching an
“ The Reporter” (USPS #482) is published bi-weekly by the Jewish Federation of Northeastern Pennsylvania, 601 Jefferson Ave., Scranton, PA 18510.
President: Dr. David Malinov Executive Director: Mark Silverberg Executive Editor: Rabbi Rachel Esserman Layout Editor: Diana Sochor Assistant Editor: Michael Nassberg Production Coordinator: Jenn DePersis Graphic Artist: Alaina Cardarelli Advertising Representative: Bonnie Rozen Bookkeeper: Kathy Brown
Opinions The views expressed in editorials and opinion pieces are those of each author and not necessarily the views of the Jewish Federation of Northeastern Pennsylvania. Letters The Reporter welcomes letters on subjects of interest to the Jewish community. All letters must be signed and include a phone number. The editor may withhold the name upon request. ADS The Reporter does not necessarily endorse any advertised products and services. In addition, the paper is not responsible for the kashruth of any advertiser’s product or establishment. Deadline Regular deadline is two weeks prior to the publication date. Federation website: www.jewishnepa.org How to SUBMIT ARTICLES: Mail: 601 Jefferson Ave., Scranton, PA 18510 E-mail: jfnepareporter@jewishnepa.org Fax: (570) 346-6147 Phone: (570) 961-2300 How to reach the advertising Representative: Phone: (800) 779-7896, ext. 244 E-mail: bonnie@thereportergroup.org Subscription Information: Phone: (570) 961-2300
unprecedented 60 million people this year. But their desperate need for housing, medical care, food and community connections is acute. When I traveled last summer with a small group of American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee board members to the region, we hoped that the IDPs we met would be able to resettle and find a more secure life, perhaps even in Israel. At the time, we could not imagine their displaced status would continue, or that fighting and insecurity would escalate. And we did not think for a moment that when we returned this year, we would find even more displaced people. But as we visited the displaced at Dnepropetrovsk’s Beit Baruch senior center and in temporary housing facilities in the city, we found pervasive sadness, vacant stares and doubts for the future. Hearing about the journey made by an educated young couple who fled Lugansk last August with their two little boys was surreal. To ensure their children’s safe passage amid the chaos, they had to forgo additional luggage so that each parent could hold onto one of their sons’ hands along the way. They currently reside in a small, but meticulously kept apartment, and survive on meager salaries from unreliable jobs. To say they are in the middle of a perfect humanitarian storm would be an understatement. Rampant inflation, devalued currency and an inadequate or nonexistent social safety net have wreaked havoc on both those who fled the separatist-controlled regions and those who remain throughout Ukraine. In light of these circumstances, many Jews are making use of the critically important aliyah services provided by the Jewish Agency’s Mayak Center. But for the vast majority, leaving is not an option. And the reasons are many, from not wanting to leave their lives and families behind, to protecting property, to the debilitation brought on by the sheer trauma and disbelief of the circumstances. Thankfully for those in Dnepropetrovsk, Chabad’s Rabbi Shmuel Kamenetsky, the local chief rabbi, has set the tone for community cooperation at this challenging time and works closely with all the major Jewish groups engaged in efforts to help the Jews of his city and throughout
Ukraine. The air of positivity he has fostered has elevated not just Jews in need, but also the local professionals providing services to the needy and visitors – like us – demonstrating solidarity with those Jews impacted by the humanitarian crisis. When the Soviet Union fell more than 20 years ago, a vast system of JDC Hesed social welfare centers and Jewish Community Centers were established. These great institutions worked hard to infuse a sense of communal independence, philanthropic spirit and local Jewish creativity. Today, that struggle has paid off: Hesed and JCC professionals and the volunteers are demonstrating bravery and dedication, and contribute positively to their respective communities. Jewish professionals, also suffering amid the continued crisis, work ceaselessly around the clock to ensure that each and every Jew, be they displaced or remaining in the conflict zone, are cared for. They treat every person with compassion and dignity, even when they themselves are stretched, weary and worried for their own family members and friends. And then there are those volunteers resoundingly active inside and out of the separatist-controlled zones. Often, they are risking their own safety to help the helpless. Consider Victor from Slavyansk, who delivered food packages on his bike to the elderly, who could not leave their homes. In his late 70s, and not Jewish, he did what he could in the most trying circumstances. Victor is not alone in his awe-inspiring dedication. In fact, volunteerism has become a mainstay of Jewish communities throughout Ukraine, the silver lining to this dire situation, and evidence of a home-grown sense of “arevut” – mutual responsibility among Jews. That development can be found in the JDC’s Metsudah Leadership Program, which builds cohorts of volunteer Jewish leaders addressing social challenges. Metsudah’s more than 250 alumni, deployed throughout Ukraine, are setting a tone of dedication that uplifts their downtrodden communities. Another bright spot is the welcoming environment provided by the Jews of Zaporozhe, who have been instrumental in caring for displaced Jews and ensuring that they have a Jewish community
to turn to in their time of need. During a visit to this southeastern Ukrainian city, I met a severely ill child who was living with her grandmother and mother. This tiny, beleaguered family of women is lacking a permanent home, miss their lives back in the east, and now rely on support from strangers. But they have nowhere to turn. We – the Jewish community – are their only source of support. In fact, since the crisis began, the response to the humanitarian plight has coalesced around a stalwart group of aid groups, concerned Jewish advocates and activists, and local Ukrainian Jewish organizations. The Jewish Federations, Rabbi Yechiel Eckstein and the International Fellowship of Christians and Jews, the Conference on Jewish Materials Claims Against Germany, World Jewish Relief, Chabad, Jewish foundations and individual supporters have been at the forefront of these efforts. It is indeed difficult to find hope amid these scenes of terrible struggle, and one fears that brighter tomorrows are ever more illusive, but sometimes fate takes a hand and reminds you of the indomitable nature of the Jewish spirit in the face of adversity. Those who have traveled with me know that a tired piano and a Yiddish melody can set me off singing and dancing with unbridled enthusiasm. During our visit to Ukraine, I was treated to such a song by eight retired female engineers who gather together weekly to socialize with other Jewish seniors at a program made possible by Jewish philanthropists from North America. The song – written for me and those I was traveling with – ended by noting that their opportunity to socialize together was “medicine for their souls.” In that poignant moment, despite my worries for the future of Ukraine’s Jews, I was reminded that we can accomplish anything if we put our minds to it. And for Ukraine’s Jews today, a little bit of chutzpah in the face of the odds, a warm hug and a place to call home can go a long way. Etta Gross Zimmerman, who resides in Florida with her husband and daughter, is a senior member of the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee board, a Wexner Heritage Program alumna and vice chair of the board of the South Palm Beach Jewish Federation.
The lynching of Leo Frank and the lessons it imparts 100 years on By Menachem Z. Rosensaft and David Meluskey JNS.org In the early hours of August 17, 1915, a 31-year-old man took his last breath as the table beneath him was kicked out and the short rope hung from an oak branch snapped his neck. The man hanging from that tree was an American Jew by the name of Leo Frank. Although Frank was the only Jew in the history of America lynched by a mob, his death had a profound and lasting impact on American Jewry. Earlier, Leo Frank, a superintendent at a pencil factory in Atlanta, had been sentenced to death on questionable evidence for murdering 13-year-old Mary Phagan in 1913. She had worked at the factory. His trial was a foregone conclusion; Frank had already been convicted in the court of public opinion. The Northern Jew was the obvious target of the people’s rage. A hate-infused trial ensued and Frank was portrayed as the insidious Jewish infiltrator, taking what he pleased. A conviction quickly came and Frank was sentenced to death.
As he went from appeal to appeal, the case against him began to fall apart. Even some of his accusers conceded that Frank had not murdered Mary Phagan. After his appeals had been rejected by the Supreme Courts of both Georgia and the U.S., Georgia Governor John M. Slaton investigated the body of evidence and, taking a bold stand, commuted Leo Frank’s sentence to life in prison. Slaton did not believe the accused had been guilty of the crime. But this did not sit well with a community longing for justice, but blinded by bigoted rage. After he arrived at the Milledgeville State Penitentiary, Frank’s throat was slit by a fellow prisoner. He survived this attempt on his life, yet the wound had barely healed when, on August 16, 1915, a well-oiled mob of 25 rolled up to the prison gates, removed Frank in less than a half hour without firing a shot and brought him to Marietta, Mary Phagan’s hometown. After being badly beaten, he was hanged from a tree at 7 am. With so many tragedies that have befallen the Jewish people, why should we
take time to remember this singular incident? Because Leo Frank’s death was the functional equivalent of state-sponsored murder. Although the governor had commuted the sentence, prominent Georgians, including judges and other state officials, plotted and carried out a seamless abduction and lynching. A huge crowd watched the lynching, which was supervised by a well-known superior court judge. That very same day the perpetrators of the crime were absolved of any wrongdoing by a grand jury, although they were all well-known locally. Several photographs were taken of the hanging, which were published and sold as postcards in local stores, along with pieces of the rope used to hang Frank, his nightshirt and branches from the tree. In the aftermath of the murder, fear spread among Southern Jews. Until then, they had found themselves quite comfortable and safe in their genteel southern communities. They owned businesses, were respected by their neighbors and even held government office. See “Lessons” on page 17