4th Letter from Crimea

B”H

Chabad of Crimea
Mironova 24
Simferopol, Crimea 95001 Ukraine
Tel/fax: 380–652–510–773 e-mail chabadcrimea@cris.crimea.ua

Adar 15, 5756
March 6, 1996

Dear Everyone amush,

Zdrastya! (That’s the shortened version of "hello." Soon you'll know Russian too!) How's everything out there? Actually, after ten months here, I got my first breath of freedom, when I visited Eretz Yisroel last month. It took a few days to get over the wonder that there are really still stores in the rest of the world, sunlight, grass, running water, constant electricity, modern appliances, etc., besides of course the kedusha of the land of Israel. I also got to read and hear the news from the better part of the year, so I'm not totally in the dark anymore (probably only 90%).

When Itchie went to American last time (it sounds almost like Columbus!) I had to begin teaching. Classes are from 5:00–7:00, and the electricity goes out every day at 5:00. (It goes off four times daily — shacharis, mincha, maariv, and tikkun chatzos!) So, while I prepare bowls of chips to nosh on during the class, I also have to prepare kerosene lamps and candles. We had to open the window to breathe, until I discovered a portable rechargeable lamp in the market. Then I really pushed myself, and added a class Shabbos afternoon as well, learning a sicha on the parsha. We've already completed the entire course on kashrus. A number of families are now basically keeping kosher, but most need funds to kasher their kitchens. One family was about to make aliya, and had packed or sold everything already. The only thing left in their kvartira (apartment) was the table. I asked the older daughter how they were managing, and if I could help them? She shyly mentioned that they didn't have any food, and the thought of eating treife turned her stomach! (We just got a letter from her, and her younger sister is now, boruch Hashem, learning in a Lubavitch girls school in Yerushalayim.) We've learned about Moshiach, all kinds of blessings, prayer, and we have already covered a lot of the laws of Shabbos. Many people walk to us now on Shabbos, even from quite far away. One young man, who has been coming for only about a month, asked after havdalah if he could smoke now — he'd refrained from smoking for the entire Shabbos. Another newcomer proudly told us that this last week was the first full Shabbos he'd kept. Whatever we learn about, they put right into action (or inaction, as the case may be.) Next on the agenda is a class on Taharas Hamishpacha. We now have several classes daily.

A few months ago, someone told us that there was an artist who wanted to meet us. He told us that although the artist is not Jewish, all of his paintings are on Jewish themes. When he came the first time, I didn't realize it was him, because I could see clearly that he was Jewish. After speaking to him, Itchie urged him to investigate his family's roots. It turns out that his parents escaped from Babi Yar, and decided not to let their children know that they were Jewish, to "spare them." He was originally a teacher of martial arts. After an accident which occurred on Shabbos, his Indian surgeon, who is married to a Jewish woman, told him about the concept of not working on Shabbos. At that point already, he ceased to work on Shabbos. He turned to art, and eventually to Jewish art. His paintings dwell on the theme of how through all these long years of exile and suffering, it is the Torah and mitzvos that keep Jews going, and it is this that will eventually bring us to the era of Moshiach. It's amazing that he didn't know he was Jewish until after he met us! Now he and his brother walk here every Shabbos, and stay for the shiur and to seek answers for their questions about Yiddishkeit. He now draws upon Itchie's teaching him chassidus to create his new and prolific, museum quality masterpieces. The relationship between Itchie and this artist is amazing. When he has an idea of something he wants to paint, he asks Itchie to explain the concept according to chassidus, and to give him the appropriate Hebrew words to put on the painting. (Despite Itchie's resistance, he was actually putting Itchie's initials, together with his own, on those paintings — claiming that Itchie is as much a creator of those paintings as he.) Just to give you one example: Anton drew the Urim V'Tumim (the breastplate that the High Priest wore in the Bais HaMikdash), and gems spreading out all over the canvas. He told Itchie that the spread-out gems represent the eternity of the Jews. When he asked for words to describe the painting, Itchie said, "Yaakov lo mais." Itchie explained it only as the Talmud says: "Just as his children are alive, so too is Yaakov still alive." Itchie said nothing about Gimmel Tammuz, and didn't explain about the Rebbe's connection to this concept. (In fact, Itchie had not yet mentioned Gimmel Tammuz to anyone here.) When Anton finished the painting, he brought it to hang in our house, "to draw chassidic energy." The painting had grown into something totally different than before. There were now many more details in the painting, including an image of the Rebbe's face on one of the gems. Itchie felt chills up and down his spine and asked what his reason was for putting the Rebbe into this particular painting? “It is not a picture of the Rebbe;” came the reply “It is the Rebbe’s reflection on the face of the gemstone. I look around me and I don't see the Rebbe here, but I see his reflection in the gem so I know he is standing by my side, even if I can't see him.”

"Who is a Jew?" is truly a problem here. People are Jewish who thought they weren't — people like Anton and like Igor, who said he has "a little bit of Jewish blood" because his mother's babushka was Jewish. And people are not Jewish who grew up thinking they were — like the girl who went off to learn in a Jewish school only to discover that because her mother's mother wasn't Jewish, she wasn't either. She is now in the process of learning for conversion to Judaism. There are so many people who changed their identities during the war to save their lives, yet now have no documents to show that they are Jewish, and have to go through conversion in order to be recognized as Jews. And there are so many people who have no idea at all what religion their parents were, since Communism effectively eradicated religious observance. Unfortunately, many of them couldn’t care less, and don’t realize how important it is to know just who they are. Tolik and Galya and their three children all want to convert. Through reading the Bible and Prophets they came to the conclusion that the Redemption is beginning now, and they want to be a part of it. You can see Galya's neshama shining on her face. She just recently discovered that her mother's father and most likely mother also were Jewish. They’d lived in Poland, and one night during an especially pogrom filled year, he’d packed his family and belongings onto a wagon, and escaped from Poland. Her father had always called her mother “Zhidovka”or “dirty Jewess!” But without any documentation, Galya must undergo conversion.

Two young people recently wrote to the Rebbe for brochos to go abroad to learn, and to help them find the money to get there. Twenty-two year old Yaakov opened the Reshimos, (recently found manuscripts of the Rebbe,) for his answer. The bold words on the page were: "And you may choose," "Giving you the power," "Four," and "It won't chas v’sholom be wasted." Itchie asked what Yaakov had been thinking about when he wrote the letter. He said that he had gone to college for four years, with only another half year remaining to finish his degree, but he really wants to go to yeshivah. He just hopes that the four years won't have been wasted! (Yaakov subsequently learned for half a year in yeshivah, returned briefly to complete his degree, and is now learning for semicha -- rabbinical ordination -- in Israel. So his 4 years were truly not wasted.) Frieda wrote the same, but also asked for direction, for while she likes chassidus, she feels that she needs mussar. As it was the 22nd day of Shevat and we only had volume 22 of the Igros (letters from the Rebbe), she decided to look for her answer there. After placing her letter to the Rebbe randomly in the Igros, she opened to that page to see what the Rebbe said. Her answer was "You should learn mussar according to chassidus, with joy!"

Well, to turn to something a little lighter, when Itchie was off discovering America, we were discovering our new / old house. It is located in an alley somewhere in the mid 1700–1800's. I kid you not. We bought it furnished, but the previous owners took for themselves most of the furnishings that they'd agreed to leave for us. I won't go into our sleeping arrangements — they aren't much, but it doesn't matter since we don't sleep all that much anyway. The heat is coal — no problem — we're switching to gas — or so we thought. There isn't enough gas in the "troobi" (pipes) for the area. OK — we're adaptable — we'll settle for electric. That will be several thousand dollars please, and several years' wait. (Remember all those lines — you wait for everything here!) Do you remember how those stories always said, "grandmother got up at the crack of dawn, made a fire, and prepared a huge breakfast..." Do you have any idea what goes into making a fire?! At first it took me several hours of trying and crying. I thought I came here to light fires in neshamos, not in a crotchety old coal stove! The pipe was too thin, the coal too poor and powdery, the paper too thick, and I had to split the wood with an ax! Blooms and Paskesz can be proud to know that we are making full use of their donations. Every empty carton is ripped to shreds to start our coal fire. Instant recycling! The burnt-out coal — several buckets daily — was a problem for the boys to shlep to the "musarnik" (garbage dumpster) until 69 year old Ida came along. She asked for our refuse to sift through, to look for small pieces of usable coal. Ida has one windowless, zero degree room, where she sleeps on the floor, in her dozen layers of clothing. Unlike many others, she travels to a public bathhouse where she waits on line for hours. She keeps herself immaculately clean, painstakingly braiding her hair into intricate styles. She will lug our empty bottles across town to trade them in, and buy "semitchkee" (sunflower seeds,) then roast and resell them to earn a few kuponi (half-pennies). She is a regular attendee at shiurim, and no longer works on Shabbos or yomtov!

What passes for the kitchen in our dom-icile ("dom" rhymes with and means "home") really isn't worth talking about. Suffice it to say that the roomlet where my stove is has no heat, but no dearth of windows, making it so cold that my cholent pot needs its own blanket to sleep under to keep it from spoiling! Our previous apartment, as you may recall, was blessed with a bathtub in the kitchen, where I could boil up water for baths. No such luck here! There is a showerless shower instead. An un-enclosed, hand-held shower is located in another unheated roomlet. (Most of the rest of the house does have heat -- when we keep the fire going.) The water dribbles out — either scalding hot or icy cold. For some reason it refuses to mix. We have to bathe with the aid of a baby bathtub. It almost tempts one to go stand on line with Ida! Meanwhile the dining room accommodates 35 for Shabbos, sardine-style, and people have to make reservations. If we will be able to renovate, we will, G-d willing, be able to accommodate more people. Actually, it doesn't matter all that much what the house is like physically — the wonderful people who fill it with us make it a home — the Chabad House that it is. Only when we walk outside the gate, are we in Ukrainian Simferopol. Here we are intimately connected to the Rebbe and Jews everywhere, preparing for the geulah sheleima — may it be very soon.

With Chassidic
Ahavas
Israel,

Leah Lipszyc & Company

P.S. Since I originally wrote this letter, we celebrated Shmuelie's third birthday with a traditional upshernish in the shul. This was a real first here. Shmuelie had a great time up on the bima, being the center of attention as everyone took turns cutting his hair. Now people no longer have to ask him if he is a "dyevitchke" (girl) or a "malchik" (boy).

For Purim, we joined with Sochnut, which had already scheduled a concert for that night. We distributed about 900 shalach manos packages, and had a public Megillah reading following the concert. This gave us exposure to many Jews who never come to shul. The Megillah was read three times on Purim day, and somehow we squeezed over 40 people into the house for our Purim seudah. They sat listening, fascinated, for hours, as Itchie regaled them with a complete account of the Purim story. G-d willing, for Pesach we hope to run two sedarim each night — a large one in the shul and a smaller (40-ish) one in the house, for those who are most interested in Yiddishkeit.

Please do keep those letters coming. We love to hear from you!

Our address is: Ukraine, Crimea, Simferopol 95001, Mironova 24, Lipszyc

Until after Pesach, do svedanya!