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‘There was no time to sleep’: 4 Jews reflect on a year of helping Ukrainians at war
(JTA) — In the months after Russian tanks rolled into her country last February, the music largely stopped for Elizaveta Sherstuk.
The founder of a Jewish choral ensemble called Aviv in her hometown of Sumy, in the northeastern flank of Ukraine, Sherstuk had to put singing aside in favor of her day job and personal mission: delivering aid to Jews in Sumy.
“There was no time to sleep,” Sherstuk recalled to the Jewish Telegraphic Agency recently. “All my team members worked the same, 24/7.”
A year later, Sherstuk is still hustling as the Sumy director of Hesed, a network of welfare centers serving needy Jews in the former Soviet bloc. But she has also begun teaching music classes again, too — with performances sometimes held in bomb shelters.
Catch up on all of JTA’s Ukraine war coverage from the last year here.
Sherstuk’s story reflects the ways that Russia’s war on Ukraine has affected Jews in Ukraine and beyond. The conflict has killed hundreds of thousands, left even more in peril and fundamentally altered the landscape and population of Ukraine, forcing millions to flee as refugees.
But the war has also mobilized the networks of Jewish aid and welfare groups across Europe, leading to a Jewish organizational response on a massive scale not seen in decades. And Ukrainian Jews who have remained in the country have recalibrated their lives and communities for wartime.
Here are four stories about Jews who stepped in and stepped up to help, and a taste of the on-the-ground situations they found themselves in.
‘I was needed there’
Enrique Ginzburg, second from right, is shown with Ukrainian doctors in Lviv. (Courtesy of Ginzburg)
Since nearly drowning at 23, Dr. Enrique Ginzburg has felt he “had to pay back” for the extra years of life he was granted.
Now 65, the professor of surgery at the University of Miami’s Miller School of Medicine and its trauma division has lent his critical care expertise in Haiti, Argentina, Kurdistan and Iraq, in various emergency situations. But until last year, he had never been to a war zone.
The Cuba native felt drawn to Ukraine because his grandfather is from Kyiv, while his grandmother is from nearby eastern Poland. So early on in the conflict, he called Dr. Aaron Epstein, an old friend and the founder of the nonprofit Global Surgical and Medical Supply Group.
“Get yourself a flak jacket, a helmet, a gas mask and come on over,” Ginzburg said Epstein told him.
He has been to Ukraine twice under the nonprofit’s auspices, last April and July. Ginzburg’s explanation for why he flew across the world to put himself in danger: “I was needed,” he said.
His base was an emergency hospital in Lviv, a city located west enough that it became a major refugee hub. He consulted with front-line Ukrainian physicians, many of them young and inexperienced, and hospital administrators, watching the doctors in action. He also visited patients in hospital wards and helped to treat gunshot wounds and assorted combat injuries.
Ginzburg’s bags were packed with meaningful supplies. Some had been requested by his Ukrainian colleagues for medical use, mostly specialized catheters. But he also brought tefillin, the phylacteries used by Jews in their morning prayers. Ginzburg, who studied in a yeshiva while young but no longer considers himself Orthodox, wrapped them every day while in Ukraine.
Even though Lviv was far from the fighting, he could hear air raid sirens and the explosion of the Russian missiles, sometimes feeling the earth shake. When intelligence reports warned Ginzburg’s medical team of impending missile attacks, they sought refuge in safe houses.
“Today,” he told the Miami Herald last June, “I was calling my life insurance [company] because I have young sons and my wife, so I’m trying to make sure I have good coverage.”
By the end of his trips, Ginzburg lost count of the number of doctors he helped train and the number of patients he saw. “I’m sure it’s hundreds.” He plans to make a third trip sometime this year.
‘This is our new reality’
Karina Sokolowska is the director of the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee’s activities in Poland. (Courtesy of the JDC)
As the director of the JDC, or the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee, in Poland, Karina Sokolowska has heard countless harrowing stories over the past year. But one sticks out in her memory.
It involved an elderly Ukrainian couple she met at the Poland-Ukraine border in late spring. The husband was in a wheelchair, and Sokolowska helped push him — back towards Ukraine. They had spent three months in a shelter in Poland but eventually “realized we cannot go looking for jobs, we cannot restart our lives. We are too old,” the woman said.
“If they are to die, they’d rather die back home,” Sokolowska said. “It’s a story of hopelessness. They are so vulnerable.”
Last year, about 8 million Ukrainian refugees made their way to Poland, the bordering country that accepted the most refugees. Early on in the conflict, Sokolowska contacted and visited Jewish communities throughout Poland, investigating the availability of places where the soon-to-be-homeless refugees could be housed. She also traveled to some of the border crossings where the Ukrainians entered, to arrange transportation to venues in Poland and to oversee the conditions in which the refugees would begin their new lives.
Later she would help with, among other things: arranging legal advice for the people who arrived with few identification documents; lining up medical care and drugs; finding them short- and long-term housing; connecting them to psychological counseling; providing kosher meals; and even caring for the refugees’ pets (“dogs and cats with no documents”).
According to JDC statistics, the organization “provided essential supplies and care” to 43,000 Jews in Ukraine and “aided 22,000+ people” there with “winter survival needs … more than double the amount served in previous years.” The welfare organization also claimed to provide “life-saving services” to more than 40,000 refugees in Poland, Moldova, Romania, Hungary, Bulgaria and other European locations. It also helped evacuate about 13,000 Jews from Ukraine. (Israeli Foreign Minister Eli Cohen recently said 15,000 Ukrainian Jews in total have immigrated to Israel since the start of the war.)
Karina Sokolowska, JDC director for Poland and Scandinavia sits in her office down the hall from a hotline room, in early March 2022. (Toby Axelrod)
At the height of the refugee flood, Sokolowska said her monthly JDC budget ballooned to more than what she previously spent in an entire year. Her office went from having a few employees to over 20. The amount of sleep she got decreased in tandem; she started taking sleeping pills to get rest when she could.
“This is our new reality” in Poland, she says of the JDC work with Ukrainian refugees. “This is our life now.”
Sokolowska, the granddaughter of Yiddish-speaking Holocaust survivors, became active in Jewish life during college, when a classmate heard her pronouncing some German words with a Yiddish accent and persuaded her to lead the Polish Union of Jewish Students. As JDC director for Scandinavian countries in addition to Poland, she typically organizes educational conferences and helps Jewish families learn about traditions they had not learned while growing up in the communist era.
Today, her sense of optimism has been ground down.
“Everything changed when war came to Ukraine — there is less hope,” Sokolowska said. “It’s a totally new everything. Every aspect of our life changed. Our hope for this to be over soon is going down, down, down. Nothing will change.”
‘It could [have been] me’
Tom and Darlynn Fellman volunteered in Krakow in October 2022. (Courtesy of Tom Fellman)
Sometime in the late 1890s, Harry Fellman, about 20 years old, left his home in Ukraine. According to family legend, he was a sharpshooter in the Ukrainian army and was about to be sent into active combat. Instead, he emigrated to the United States and settled in Omaha, Nebraska, where he became a peddler.
His grandson Tom Fellman — whose middle name is Harry — doesn’t know all the 120-year-old details, but he knows that he is grateful that Harry Fellman decided to leave Ukraine when he did.
“It could [have been] me, if my grandparents had not left when they did,” said Fellman, a successful real estate developer and philanthropist in Omaha.
In October, at 78 years old, Fellman made the reverse trip across the Atlantic to pitch in to the relief effort. He also wanted to pay what he sees as a debt to the memory of his late grandfather and to help the current generation of Ukrainian Jews.
He and his wife Darlynn served as volunteers for a week at the Krakow Jewish community center, joining hundreds (possibly thousands) of volunteers from overseas who have gone to Poland and the other nations in the region over the last year to participate in humanitarian programs on behalf of the millions of Ukrainian refugees. Fellman worked nine hours a day with a half-dozen fellow foreign volunteers in the basement of the community center, transferring the contents of “big, big” sacks of items like potatoes and sugar into small containers to be distributed to refugees in the building’s first-floor food pantry. His wife spent her time in an art therapy program that was set up for the refugee mothers and children to raise their spirits.
Fellman is “not particularly religious” but supports “anything Jewish.” In 1986, he accompanied a rescue mission plane of Soviet Jews headed to Israel. “It was the most rewarding experience of my life,” he recalled.
Fellman says he plans to return to Poland, in June, for the JCC’s annual fundraising bike ride from Auschwitz to Krakow.
What did his friends think of his septuagenarian volunteer stint? “They thought it was cool,” he said. “But none of them are going too.”
‘Everything was a risk’
Elizaveta Sherstuk runs a branch of Hesed, a network of welfare centers, in Sumy, Ukraine. (Courtesy of Sherstuk)
Sherstuk’s parents would have sent their daughter to a Jewish school in her early years if they had had the option. But Jewish education was not permitted In Sumy during the final years of communist rule in the Soviet republic. Sherstuk was exposed to Jewish life only at home.
Her parents infused her with a Jewish identity, she said, and her grandparents used to talk and sing songs in Yiddish. That inspired Sherstuk’s first career as a singer and a music teacher, during which she founded Aviv and took it on tour throughout the region singing traditional Jewish songs. Later, she became the director of Sumy’s branch of the JDC-funded Hesed network.
Sumy, an industrial city with a population of 300,000 before the war situated only 30 miles from the Russian border, was one of Russia’s first targets. In the days before the pending invasion, Sherstuk stockpiled food, which was certain to become scarce in case of war, and arranged bus transportation to safer parts of the country for hundreds of vulnerable civilians, mostly the elderly and disabled. The bus plan fell through for safety issues.
As the bombing started, it became dangerous for members of the local 1,000-member Jewish community, many of them elderly, to venture outside of their apartments. Sherstuk, working out of a bomb shelter, assisted by a Hesed network of volunteers, coordinated food and medicine deliveries.
The situation grew more dire, and she coordinated the Jewish community’s participation in a brief humanitarian corridor evacuation of vulnerable civilians that the Russians permitted. She communicated with Sumy residents mostly by smartphones provided by the JDC — the Russian attacks had cut the landlines — and accompanied the busloads of Sumy Jews to western Ukraine. Some of them eventually moved on to Israel, Germany, or other nearby countries, she said.
Sherstuk stayed in western Ukraine for a while (“The humanitarian corridors are only for one-way trips,” she noted), moving from place to place, keeping in touch with the Jews of Sumy and waiting for Ukraine’s army to make the trip back safe. But Sumy, like many Ukrainian cities, has come under frequent Russian rocket attack.
“Everything was a risk,” she said. “We were following whatever our hearts told us to do. We had to save people. I was the one who had to do it.”
Last May, Sherstuk was among 12 men and women (and the sole one from the Diaspora) who lit a torch at the start of Israel’s Independence Day in a government ceremony on Mount Herzl. During two weeks in Israel, she spent some time with members of her family, and held a series of meetings with JDC officials, government ministers and donors. “It was not a vacation,” she said.
After going back to Sumy, at the suggestions of her choral group members and fellow Sumy residents, she organized concerts in Hebrew, Yiddish, Ukrainian and Russian — some in person, some in a bomb shelter in the city’s central square, some online. She has now resumed her music classes, too, and it has all boosted morale. “I [teach] all the time,” she said.
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Synagogue in Rome Vandalized, Memorial Plaque Defaced Amid Surge in Antisemitic Attacks Across Italy
Antisemitic slogans deface the walls of the Beth Michael synagogue in Monteverde, Rome, marking the latest attack on the city’s Jewish community. Photo: Screenshot
A synagogue in Rome was defaced on Sunday night when unknown individuals vandalized the building and a memorial plaque honoring a Jewish child killed in a terrorist attack — the latest incident targeting the city’s Jewish community amid a relentless climate of hostility.
On Monday morning, the Beth Michael synagogue in Monteverde, a neighborhood in southwest Rome, was found defaced with antisemitic graffiti reading “Monteverde anti-Zionist and anti-fascist” and “Free Palestine.”
The synagogue’s memorial plaque honoring Stefano Gaj Taché — a two-year-old Jewish child murdered in the 1982 Palestinian terrorist attack on the Great Synagogue of Rome — was also vandalized.
Local police have launched an investigation into the latest incident, pursuing leads on two masked individuals captured on surveillance cameras near the synagogue.
Victor Fadlun, president of the Jewish Community of Rome, condemned the attack, denouncing it as part of a disturbing surge in antisemitic incidents targeting Italy’s Jewish community.
“This was all part of a climate of intimidation … Antisemitism in general has become a tool for political protest,” Fadlun said in a statement. “We have faith in the police and call for strong government intervention to stop this spiral of hatred.”
Italian Foreign Minister Antonio Tajani expressed solidarity with the local Jewish community, calling for swift action to hold the perpetrators accountable and reaffirming the country’s commitment to fighting this growing hatred.
“Antisemitism is an evil germ that must be eradicated from Europe and Italy. Antisemitism cannot be confused with criticisms that can be leveled at the Israeli government,” the top Italian diplomat said in a statement.
“We must guarantee the safety of all Jewish citizens, who must not be subjected to threats and violence,” Tajani continued.
The European Jewish Congress also condemned the incident, urging authorities to investigate “this hate crime and ensure that such acts are treated with the seriousness they deserve.”
“Defacing a memorial honoring a murdered child is an act of profound disrespect and a painful reminder of how antisemitism continues to poison our societies,” EJC wrote in a post on X.
“This is not ‘anti-Zionism.’ It is antisemitism: the targeting of Jewish memory, Jewish mourning, and Jewish history,” the statement read. “Stefano’s name is a symbol of one of Italy’s darkest terror attacks. His memory should be protected, not desecrated.”
We condemn the vandalism of the memorial plaque for Stefano Gaj Taché, the two-year-old Jewish child murdered in the 1982 Palestinian terrorist attack on the Great Synagogue of Rome.
Defacing a memorial honouring a murdered child is an act of profound disrespect and a painful… pic.twitter.com/wcG144OWL6
— European Jewish Congress (@eurojewcong) December 1, 2025
This latest incident comes amid a surge in antisemitism and anti-Israel sentiment across Europe and around the world since the Hamas-led invasion of and massacre across southern Israel on Oct. 7, 2023.
In Italy, Jewish individuals have been facing a surge in hostility and targeted attacks, including vandalism of murals and businesses, as well as physical assaults. Community leaders have warned that such incidents are becoming more frequent amid continued tensions related to the war in Gaza.
Last month, a group of Orthodox Jewish American tourists was brutally attacked at Milan’s Central Station by a pro-Palestinian individual.
The victim, who was with a group of 10 Orthodox Jewish tourists visiting Italy, was checking the departure board when an unknown individual began harassing him.
The attacker then allegedly chased the victim while punching and kicking him and striking him in the head with a blunt metal ring.
During the attack, the assailant reportedly shouted antisemitic insults and threats, including “dirty Jews” and “you kill children in Palestine, and I’ll kill you.”
In September, a Jewish couple was walking through Venice in traditional Orthodox clothing when three assailants confronted them, shouted “Free Palestine,” and physically attacked them, slapping both.
This incident followed another attack on a Jewish couple in Venice the month before, when a man and his pregnant wife were harassed near the city center by three unknown individuals.
The attackers approached the couple, shouting antisemitic insults and calling the husband a “dirty Jew,” while physically assaulting them by throwing water and spitting on them.
One of the assailants later set his dog on the couple in an attempt to intimidate them before the group stole their phones.
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Harvard Files Another Motion to Dismiss Antisemitism Lawsuit, Student Hits Back
Students walk on campus at Harvard University in Cambridge, Massachusetts, US, Nov. 19, 2025. Photo: Reba Saldanha via Reuters Connect
Harvard University has asked a US federal court to respond to a second and final motion to dismiss a lawsuit brought by a former graduate student who says the administration unlawfully refused to discipline students and faculty who harassed him for being Jewish.
Harvard submitted its first motion in October, charging that the alleged victim, Yoav Segev, has not backed his claim with evidence and that his grievance derived not from any legally recognizable harm but a disagreement over policy. Segev fired back on Nov. 17, with his attorneys writing in response that Harvard’s litigation strategy is a “morally indefensible” attempt to disappear allegations which they say the school knows are true.
As previously reported by The Algemeiner, Segev was mobbed in October 2023 by a crush of pro-Hamas activists led by Ibrahim Bharmal and Elom Tettey-Tamaklo, who stalked him across Harvard Yard before encircling him and screaming “Shame! Shame! Shame!” as he struggled to break free from the mass of bodies which surrounded him. Video of the incident, widely viewed online at the time, showed the group shoving keffiyehs — traditional headdresses worn by men in the Middle East that in some circles have come to symbolize Palestinian nationalism — in his face.
“The harassment also came from Harvard faculty, who publicly blamed Mr. Segev because his presence, as a Jew, was somehow ‘frightening’ to other students,” Segev’s attorneys wrote in a memorandum to the court. “This pervasive harassment also includes Harvard mistreating and misleading Mr. Segev to deny him a fair process while protecting and rewarding his attackers. Harvard ignores these allegations.”
They added, “Moreover, while the complaint focuses on Mr. Segev’s assault, ensuring harassment, and Harvard’s unreasonable response, it details the many other ways Harvard neglected the entire Jewish community, of which Mr. Segev is a member.”
Harvard implored the court to respond to its filing, saying Segev “does not attempt to explain how the facts alleged about that single, short-lived event — shouting and some brief instances of non-injurious physical contact — could be vile enough to have a systemic effect on his education experience.”
It continued, “Mr. Segev attempts to sweep in a purported ‘overall environment’ of events that predate his time at Harvard or that he did not experience. To that end, Mr. Segev retreads a litany of allegations copied from other lawsuits arguing that reliance on these allegations is proper because he ‘is a member of Harvard’s Jewish community, and he suffered … just as much as other Jewish students.’”
In the two years since the October 2023 incident, Bharmal and Tettey-Tamaklo not only avoided hate crime charges but even amassed new accolades and distinctions — according to multiple reports.
Bharmal went on to be conferred a law clerkship with the Public Defender for the District of Columbia, a government-funded agency which provides free legal counsel to “individuals … who are charged with committing serious criminal acts.” He also reaped a $65,000 fellowship from Harvard Law School to work at the Council on American-Islamic Relations (CAIR), an Islamic group whose leaders have defended the Palestinian terrorist group Hamas’s atrocities against Israelis on Oct. 7, 2023.
As for Tettey-Tamaklo, he walked away from Harvard Divinity School with honors, according to The Free Press, as the 2024 Class Committee for Harvard voted him class marshal, a role in which he led the graduation procession through Harvard Yard alongside the institution’s most accomplished scholars and faculty.
He is currently hired as a Harvard teaching fellow, according to a recent report by The Washington Free Beacon.
Harvard’s relationship with the Jewish community became a staple of American news coverage ever since some of its students cheered Hamas’s Oct. 7, 2023, massacre across southern Israel, in which Palestinian terrorists indiscriminately murdered Israelis while sexually assaulting both women and men. Later, students stormed academic buildings chanting “globalize the intifada”; a faculty group posted an antisemitic cartoon on its social media page; and the Harvard Law School student government passed a resolution that falsely accused Israel of genocide and ethnic cleansing.
Since US President Donald Trump’s election in November 2024, Harvard has attempted to turn over a new leaf, settling lawsuits which stipulate its adopting the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance’s (IHRA) widely used definition of antisemitism and even shuttering far-left initiatives which were adjacent to extreme anti-Zionist viewpoints.
In July, the university announced new partnerships with Israeli academic institutions, saying it will establish a new study abroad program, in partnership with Ben-Gurion University of the Negev, for undergraduate students and a postdoctoral fellowship in which Harvard Medical School faculty will mentor and train newly credentialed Israeli scientists in biomedical research as preparation for the next stages of their careers.
Speaking to The Harvard Crimson — which has endorsed boycotting Israel — Harvard vice provost for international affairs Mark Elliot trumpeted the announcement as a positive development and, notably, as a continuation, not a beginning, of Harvard’s “engagement with institutions of higher education across Israel.” Elliot added that Harvard is planning “increased academic collaboration across the region in the coming years.”
Follow Dion J. Pierre @DionJPierre.
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Antisemitism in Healthcare Is a Public Health Crisis — and Must Be Treated as One
Illustrative: Medical staff work at the coronavirus disease (COVID-19) ward at Hadassah Ein Kerem Hospital, in Jerusalem January 31, 2022. REUTERS/Ronen Zvulun
While healthcare providers pledge to “do no harm,” that oath is being violated as antisemitism seeps into the very spaces meant to embody compassion and healing. This was the warning issued by Dr. Jacqueline Hart, who organized a medical conference on this issue, and emphasized that antisemitism in medicine endangers both patients and practitioners.
At the conference, titled “Addressing Antisemitism in Healthcare,” a Jewish medical student described classmates who erased her from social media groups when they learned she was Jewish, and chalked the names of Hamas “martyrs” (those who brutally murdered Jewish men, women, and children) outside the school on the anniversary of October 7.
Other Jewish medical students were labeled “colonizers,” “oppressors,” and “bloodthirsty Zionists” by their peers. A genetic counselor who petitioned to stop her professional association from platforming a speaker with a history of antisemitic rhetoric received death threats from colleagues, and had to walk into work with a police escort. One Jewish resident recalled a patient who sneered, “I don’t trust the Jew to treat me,” while the supervising physician said nothing.
Jewish patients within the mental health sphere are experiencing what’s known as traumatic invalidation — the denial or dismissal of one’s pain, experience, and humanity. Research shows that when people are silenced, minimized, or erased in this way, the psychological impact can be as damaging as other recognized traumas, leaving deep scars of mistrust, hypervigilance, and isolation.
And when bias permeates hospitals and clinics, everyone is at risk. Patients hesitate to disclose important personal information, practitioners experience significant harm, and the public’s faith in medicine erodes.
For these reasons, antisemitism in healthcare must be treated as a public-health crisis.
A National Call to Action
America’s great medical hubs — Boston, Chicago, New York, San Francisco, Philadelphia, Seattle, Atlanta, and others — have long set the pace for clinical innovation and high-quality care. Now they must lead again. Public and private leaders within healthcare must mobilize around confronting antisemitism head-on.
For example, longitudinal studies should be funded and conducted on the impact of antisemitism on patient outcomes, workforce retention, and mental health, and to develop antisemitism-reduction interventions — just as we do for smoking cessation or infection control.
Policies and practices that illuminate and address the issue must be implemented, including adding antisemitism metrics to existing patient-safety and employee-climate surveys; requiring academic medical centers and health systems to track and publicly report antisemitic incidents; and posting a Patients’ Bill of Rights that explicitly guarantees a care environment free from discrimination.
Healthcare facilities should review their dress codes and revise policies to prohibit staff from wearing political attire that could intimidate patients or colleagues. This will help to ensure that treatment environments remain safe and welcoming for all.
Mandatory training and education are needed, including integrating antisemitism education into cultural-competence curricula for students, residents, and continuing medical education for practicing clinicians.
Facilities should create anonymous reporting hotlines — either individually or collectively — where patients and workers can report antisemitic or other bias-related incidents without fear of retaliation, and facilities should also ensure there are penalties for retaliation.
Mental health services must be available for patients and health care workers who experience discriminatory treatment. Further, regulations should be reviewed and revised to guarantee that clinical environments remain free from antisemitic bias and other forms of hate.
Finally, medical schools’ LCME accreditation and hospital Joint Commission status should be made dependent on having an antisemitism-prevention program or training requirement.
Medicine’s social contract is built on safety, dignity, and trust. When Jewish clinicians who report antisemitism are told to “keep politics out of the hospital,” or Jewish patients fear revealing their identity, that contract is broken. The cure is neither complicated nor optional: study the problem, implement interventions, train the workforce, and enforce standards — just as we have done with other threats to public health.
What’s at stake is not only the well-being of Jewish patients and professionals, but the integrity of our healthcare system itself.
Sara A. Colb is the Director of Advocacy for ADL’s National Affairs division. Dr. Miri Bar-Halpern is the Director of Trauma Training and Services at Parents for Peace and a Lecturer in Psychology at Harvard Medical School, where she supervises psychology interns and psychiatry residents.