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The first Passover haggadah in Ukrainian marks a community’s break with Russia
(JTA) — For Michal Stamova, the challenge of translating Passover’s core text into Ukrainian started with the title.
The haggadah — the book containing the Passover story — starts with an “h” sound in both Hebrew, its original language, and English. In Russian, the primary language of organized Jewish life in Ukraine until recently, there is no such sound, so the book has long been known there as an “agada.”
Ukrainian does have an “h” sound. But the character representing that sound conveys a different sound in Russian: a “G.” So for many Ukrainian Jews, the cover of Stamova’s translation will read as “Gagada.”
The journey of that single sound reflects the complexity of the task Stamova took on to aid Ukrainian Jews celebrating Passover a year into their country’s war with Russia. A musicologist from western Ukraine who fled to Israel shortly after Russia’s invasion, Stamova was recruited to create a Ukrainian-language haggadah, a powerful sign of the community’s rupture with its Russophone past.
Stamova knew she wanted to base her translation not off the preexisting Russian translation, but from the original Hebrew and Aramaic. That proved challenging because much of the text of the haggadah is lifted from other sources in Jewish canon, but Jewish translations of those texts to Ukrainian are only underway now for the first time.
“At first, it was very difficult to start, because we don’t have the sources in Ukrainian,” Stamova said. “We don’t have Torah in Ukrainian. We don’t have Tanakh in Ukrainian. It was very difficult to know what words to find.”
Stamova’s text, titled “For Our Freedom,” was released online earlier this month in advance of the Passover holiday that starts April 5. It is one of a growing number of efforts to translate Jewish texts into Ukrainian. Translators affiliated with the Chabad-Lubavitch movement have produced a book of psalms and are working on a daily prayer book, with their sights set on a full translation of the Torah. An effort is also underway now to translate a chapter of a newer text associated with Yom Hashoah, the Jewish Holocaust memorial day, in advance of its commemoration this year on April 18.
The absence of those texts until now, despite Ukraine’s significant Jewish population, reflects the particular linguistic history of Ukrainian Jews. Under the Russian empire, Jews living in what is now Ukraine in the 19th century tended to adopt Russian rather than Ukrainian, usually in addition to Yiddish, because Ukrainian was perceived as the language of the peasantry and conferred few benefits. That tilt became more pronounced after World War II and the Holocaust, when Yiddish declined as a Jewish vernacular and Russian became the main language of the Soviet Union. The history helps explain why, even as the number of Ukrainians speaking Russian at home fell sharply over the last decade, Jews remained largely Russian-speaking. (Russian and Ukrainian are related linguistically, though their speakers cannot understand each other.)
A sample page of text from the haggadah. (Courtesy of Project Kesher)
Over the past 30 years, the vast majority of printed material used by Ukrainian Jewish communities, including haggadahs for Passover, were created in Russian by groups such as Chabad, which is the main Jewish presence in both countries. But after Russia’s invasion, those materials became a liability at a time when being perceived as having ties to the enemy could be dangerous.
Indeed, Russia’s invasion of Ukraine last year prompted many Russian-speaking Ukrainians to switch languages as a marker of national solidarity — and sparked a push to translate Ukraine’s Jewish life into the Ukrainian language.
“Ukrainian Jews always spoke Russian. That really was the norm. With the advent of the escalation of the war, that has shifted, and Ukrainian Jews who are in the country are shifting as fast as they can over to Ukrainian,” said Karyn Gershon, the executive director of Project Kesher, the global Jewish feminist nonprofit that commissioned the new haggadah.
Gershon said the haggadah offers an opportunity to elevate a Ukrainian Jewish identity in other ways, such as by including tidbits about famous Jewish writers from the area that comprises modern Ukraine who in the past might have been characterized only as “Russian.”
“In most of the Jewish world, the things that make a haggadah unique are the special readings,” Gershon said. The new Ukrainian haggadah includes alongside the traditional text, she said, “prayers for the defenders of Ukraine, prayers for peace in Ukraine, but also [passages] reclaiming writers who were always categorized as Russian, but because they came from places like Kyiv, Odessa and Berdichev, are more accurately Ukrainian.”
For example, the haggadah includes passages from the 1925 book “Passover Nights,” by Hava Shapiro, a Kyiv-born Jew and journalist who authored one of the first Hebrew-language diaries known to have been written by a woman.
The additions offer an element of pride for some of the Ukrainian Jews who plan to use the new haggadah.
“It is bringing you to the roots of those Jews who were living here before the Holocaust,” said Lena Pysina, who lives in Cherkasy, southeast of Kyiv. “It’s about rebuilding the Jewish communities in Ukraine as ‘Ukrainian Jews.’”
Pysina said the switch to Ukrainian and the embrace of Ukrainian Jewish history in some ways echoed the themes of the Passover story, which describes the Israelites fleeing slavery in Egypt.
“It’s like an exodus for us. It is not comfortable, because we get used to what we get used to. But we have to be proactive, we have to find our identity,” she said. “It took us 70 years of Soviet times to … celebrate the Jewish holidays and Jewish traditions. And it took us 30 years to understand that we have to build Ukrainian Jewish communities, too.”
Those communities are very much in flux a year into the war, with millions of Ukrainians internally displaced or having relocated overseas. Stamova undertook the haggadah project from Israel, where she is one of an estimated 15,000 Ukrainians who arrived since February 2022.
Stamova grew up in western Ukraine, where the use of the Ukrainian language is more common than in the east. Like most other Ukrainian Jews, she still grew up speaking Russian at home, but her school, university and most of her life outside the home was conducted in Ukrainian. That made her a natural fit for the translation project, along with her background in Jewish liturgy, which she had studied at a Conservative yeshiva in Jerusalem.
Over the past 30 years, the vast majority of printed material used by Ukrainian Jewish communities, including haggadahs for Passover, were created in Russian. (Courtesy of Project Kesher)
The challenges went beyond phonetics. One frequent question was whether to use Russianisms that are widely known in Ukrainian and would be more easily understandable to a Jewish audience, or to use uniquely Ukrainian words.
The most difficult section of the text, she said, was Hallel, the penultimate step of the Passover seder. Hallel is a lengthy song of divine praise heavy with poetry and allegorical language — making for challenging translation work in any language.
Stamova said she sought to stick to the traditional understanding of the text while also making some adjustments for the contemporary seder attendee. For example, the section of the haggadah about the “four sons” with varying relationships to Judaism is rendered gender-neutral and changed to the “four children” in Stamova’s translation — an adjustment that has been made in other languages, too.
Most of all, Stamova said, she hopes the haggadah offers some solace to Ukrainian Jews whose entire lives have been turned upside down.
“The Jewish tradition of Pesach is that we every year have to remember that we escaped from Egypt, from slavery. It’s very therapeutic,” Stamova said, using the Hebrew word for Passover. “How is it like therapy? Yes, we every year remember this difficult story, but then we have a plan for the future, we say next year in Jerusalem. So we have to have a plan. We have to see the future.”
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I Came to Israel for Clarity and Left with More Questions (How Jewish)
The Western Wall and Temple Mount in Jerusalem. Photo: Wikimedia Commons.
I arrived in Israel as part of the Birthright Israel Onward Storytellers Program, with a dynamic group of creators from across the globe intent on gaining perspective on the region.
Many people in my group were short-form enthusiasts, but I repeatedly insisted on the power of long-form storytelling. So here are some long-form thoughts on my experience:
While Israelis wear their resilience on their sleeves, I was struck by the psychological weight they’ve gained since Oct 7.
When I learned that the word grief in Hebrew was “evel,” I asked if it was linked to the word “even,” which means rock. A native speaker was surprised by this question, but couldn’t refute the connection.
Coincidences in the Holy Land often feel like Divine signs. Maybe they are.
On our first day, while walking through the Old City in Jerusalem, I lost the Hamsa pendant I bought on my last visit; it slipped right off my neck.
My first sign!
That pendant was now burrowed in the pocket of cobblestone streets older than the prophets. What literal symbol would I replace it with?
After a tear-soaked visit to the Kotel, where I jammed a wish-filled note in the cracks of the ancient wall, we visited the Temple Mount, a jarring surprise to our group to even be allowed in.
At one of the holiest places in Jewish and Muslim culture, I was not moved by the archeological marvel, but by the human connection — in the thoughtful dialogue I began with our Palestinian tour guide, in an effort to understand his experience.
It was not lost on me that we were a living bridge of peace, in the most contentious location between our cultures. I doubt it was lost on him either.
We hugged goodbye later that day, and wished each other well, speaking to the individual but praying for our collectives.
The next day we visited the harrowing sites of the Oct. 7 massacres at the Nova festival and Kibbutz Nir Oz. I was surprised at how unsurprised I was, scarred by the gutting imagery that the attack had become sadly associated with.
We then went to the great expanse of the Negev Desert, with its Grand Canyon-like Godliness. We spoke to our creator in the darkness of the night, looking for more answers — but, again, I was left with more questions.
The signs were unclear and I was getting frustrated.
We then came to Tel Aviv, a city that always feels just right with its bustling multi-culturalism, charming architecture, undeniable food, and endless gorgeous faces.
I could live here, I thought. With the state of the world, maybe sooner rather than later.
I thrived on my own, with long walks away from the group, sipping delicious coffee and reaffirming why I love this country so much. The solitude energized my urge to make the world understand what Israel really is. How they would see if they only came here for themselves!
But we cannot make people see what they don’t want to see. We can only lead by example and hope that our changes inspire them, or at the very least, confront them.
Our meaningful journey, carefully curated by Yael Adventures, was coming to an end.
I left this chapter of my trip inspired by a group of young leaders expressing their values online to move hearts and minds through food, fashion, humor, and culture.
The odds are against us.
As I told them, my family is Israeli, so I have no choice but to be an outspoken advocate. The others have a harder choice, one that their peers reject violently and without nuance. And yet they choose to stand with Jewish pride in the land we are told we don’t deserve, but relentlessly reminded why we need.
I am grateful to this group for teaching me so much about their stories and about my own. Among them, I even made some true friends, a task that gets increasingly harder in a world saturated with false idols and inauthentic lives.
After the organized trip, I visited my family in the North, the only extended family I have. As we sat down for Shabbat dinner, I felt the feeling of home that people often describe when their tribe is together. When you live across the world from yours, a puzzle piece of your soul reattaches for even the shortest reconnection.
The next day, on a walk with my cousin, I ran into a childhood friend. I had met him on my family’s sabbatical in Israel when I was 12 years old. He no longer lived in the village, but happened to be visiting the same day as me, walking the same trail at the same time.
Another sign.
I had lived there at an age where life events are consequential to our personalities and trajectory. It reminded me of the confidence this place instilled in me, which has carried me throughout my life. If nothing else, I owe it to these people for the confidence they gave me — to remind them of how special they truly are, regardless of what the rest of the world thinks. To lighten the load of the “even” from the “evel.”
I visited my Father’s grave, a beautiful stone structure built for only the most epic of men. He rests exactly where he belongs, overlooking the land of his forefathers, beside his fellow countrymen.
His tombstone is labeled “Professor.” I questioned what identity I would want written on my own. I didn’t have an answer.
As a multi-hyphenate, I don’t do well with labels, or perhaps have yet to land on my own personal definition.
The trip ended with a cherished day of filming for my upcoming movie, continuing the long journey to tell a story I can’t wait to share with you all. It turns out that it doesn’t matter where I am in the world — if I’m making art on my own terms, I come alive.
This sign couldn’t be clearer.
It would be borderline blasphemous to not acknowledge the Divinity of using my God-given gifts in my ancestral homeland.
Perhaps I was right to be in this cohort after all. A true “hero’s journey,” I came back home changed, and armed with fresh perspective and new tools to do what I do best — tell stories. I guess I don’t need a new pendant for that.
No matter your background, I hope you’ll visit Israel and see it for yourself someday. It may not have all your answers, but, like me, it may leave you with new questions to explore.
And if you don’t, that’s OK too. I’ll be back again very soon, and eat enough Shawarma for the both of us.
Ari Frenkel is an actor, writer and filmmaker. He is known for his on-screen work in Amazon’s I’m A Virgo, HBO’s Silicon Valley, FX’s American Crime Story, and much more. He is the creator and star of the award-winning digital series Sorry, Ari. He is currently in production for his debut feature film, See You on the Other Side. Visit his Instagram, and website.
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Phase Two Begins: Will Hamas Uphold Its Ceasefire Commitments?
People walk past a billboard portraying the late Hamas leader Yahya Sinwar at the site of a rally held by protesters, mainly Houthi supporters, to show support to Lebanon’s Hezbollah and Palestinians in the Gaza Strip, in Sanaa, Yemen, Oct. 18, 2024. Photo: REUTERS/Khaled Abdullah
The United States has announced that the second phase of the ceasefire agreement between Israel and Hamas has now begun. While officials worry that not moving on to the second stage could encourage renewed fighting, the movement towards the second phase has also been met with trepidation from the Israeli perspective.
Notably, Hamas has yet to uphold its end of the agreement, consistently violating the ceasefire since its implementation by launching attacks on Israeli soldiers, crossing the yellow line into territory controlled by the IDF, and not returning all hostages within the first 72 hours of the agreement.
While all hostages, both living and deceased, were meant to return home 72 hours after the initial agreement was signed, Hamas has consistently delayed releases or indulged in misdirection and cover-ups. As phase two begins, the body of Ran Gvili, the final hostage being unlawfully held in Gaza, has yet to return home. It raises serious doubts about the extent to which the terrorist organization can be trusted to honor its commitments.
What Does Phase Two Entail?
The second phase of the ceasefire is meant to establish a transitional technocratic Palestinian administration in Gaza, known as the National Committee for the Administration of Gaza (NCAG). It will also begin the full demilitarization and reconstruction of Gaza, focusing specifically on the disarmament of all unauthorized personnel, such as Hamas and Islamic Jihad.
While Hamas is now supposedly signaling willingness to disarm, it has in the past made it explicitly clear that it is not interested in disarming until there is a clear process that will result in the establishment of a Palestinian state, least of all if Israel is still present in the Gaza Strip. Yet this requirement for disarmament must be met at this stage for Israel to continue its withdrawal.
Since the beginning of phase one, the IDF has been working tirelessly on the demilitarization of Gaza. Yet areas beyond the yellow line — the area of withdrawal controlled by the IDF — remain far from clear of terrorist infrastructure, as the IDF continues to uncover more tunnel systems.
All of these key components of the second phase need to work in synchronization. Hamas’ military grip on the Gaza Strip currently puts the terrorist organization in a position of de facto governance. If it relinquishes its military powers by disarming, it will create the possibility for the NCAG force to begin administering the civilians there.
The NCAG is meant to be an apolitical body overseeing daily life in Gaza. In this capacity, it could help support stabilization efforts, reduce the influence of terrorist organizations, and create space for long-term initiatives focused on education, reconstruction, and economic opportunity — key elements in fostering a more sustainable future. Additionally, the International Stabilization Force (ISF) will also be implemented at this stage to help establish and support a police force, allowing for further Israeli withdrawal.
The successful implementation of the second phase lays the groundwork for a stable and functional civilian administration in Gaza. Thus, this phase is not only about immediate security and withdrawal, but rather about building the institutional foundations necessary to ensure a stable future in post-war Gaza.
A Reminder From Oslo
This is not the first time Israel has entered into agreements with the Palestinians, only to face challenges stemming from a lack of enforcement, limited accountability, and differing interests.
In 1993, Israelis and Palestinians were similarly excited about the process of moving towards a future free of terrorism, incitement, and hatred.
The Oslo Accords called for the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) to formally recognize the right of the State of Israel to exist. In contrast, Israel recognized the PLO as the representative of the Palestinian people. Over the course of five years, the two parties were meant to reach a formal and comprehensive agreement. However, no such agreement was ever reached between the parties, and the breakdown of the process was followed by the launch of the Second Intifada, during which weapons originally intended for Palestinian security forces were turned against Israel.
Perhaps one of the most important requirements from the Palestinian side of the Oslo Accords was a commitment to education reform, intended to promote tolerance within the Palestinian education system. A lack of enforcement meant that this crucial factor was never implemented.
As a result, the Palestinian education system has — to this day — been one that indoctrinates Palestinian children with a vehement hatred of the State of Israel and the Jewish people, and calls on children to become martyrs by committing terrorist attacks. This means that the terrorists who committed the atrocities of October 7, 2023, grew up using textbooks that glorified terrorism after the fallout from Oslo.
While the world and the media may be ready to move on to phase two, it is crucial that Israel ensures the other side are held to their obligations. The aftermath of the Oslo Accords illustrates the consequences of failing to uphold commitments. The repeated disregard of terrorist organizations’ negotiated commitments ultimately undermined long-term stability. The current phase in Gaza presents a similar crossroads. Without careful oversight and accountability, a history of broken commitments and renewed violence could repeat itself.
The author is a contributor to HonestReporting, a Jerusalem-based media watchdog with a focus on antisemitism and anti-Israel bias — where a version of this article first appeared.
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What Happens Next for the US and Iran?
Iran’s Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei speaks during a meeting in Tehran, Iran, January 17, 2026. Office of the Iranian Supreme Leader/WANA (West Asia News Agency)/Handout via REUTERS
Having warned Iran’s regime, repeatedly and explicitly, not to brutalize its own people, President Trump now must figure out how to uphold his red line, avoid losing credibility, and impose serious costs on the regime — all without triggering a wider conflict.
Revolutionary regimes like the Islamic Republic try to delegitimize and deflect popular discontent by pinning it on external enemies. Although Trump has spoken out about the protests, Tehran ignored the Biden team’s glaring silence and still blamed America for the “Woman, Life, Freedom” movement just a few years ago.
It is therefore no surprise that the speaker of Iran’s parliament has said the country is already in a new round of conflict with America and Israel. Iranian officials also have threatened to attack US regional bases, including preemptively.
Even if the country’s recent nationwide protests have subsided for now, Iran’s regime is fundamentally both unable and unwilling to address the deep-rooted grievances underlying such widespread and steadily worsening internal discontent.
It is strictly a question of when — not if — major unrest returns, and with it, the regime’s enduring instinct and temptation to project its problems outward onto the “Big” and “Little” Satans of America and Israel. Brinkmanship also offers the regime hope of deterring military action during the moments of domestic crisis when its future is most in doubt.
There are plenty of salutary sanctions, cyberwarfare tools, and covert and kinetic options to support protestors, inhibit further crackdowns, and encourage the regime’s ultimate collapse.
By themselves, however, these options are unable to keep Iran from threatening or unleashing massive retaliation against US targets in the process.
A key element of President Trump’s response, and one that fulfills his promise of “hitting them very, very hard where it hurts,” should be to target the regime’s best retaliatory capabilities.
This means its short-range ballistic and cruise missiles, drones, missile boat swarms, anti-ship missiles, and mobile coastal batteries looming over the Gulf, Iraq, and American forces there. By combining mass with precision, the weapons are Iran’s readiest option to counter US threats against its internal security apparatus.
These capabilities were left untouched during the June war, when the United States and Israel focused on nuclear sites and longer-range ballistic missiles. They do not require the time-consuming loading and fueling of those longer-range missiles, and their flight times are shorter.
These short-range projectiles can be launched in large “bolt from the blue” attacks with little early warning, and in great quantities, that strain US-led defenses in the region. Unlike some of its other arsenals, Iran has dangerous incentives to strike first, fast, and hard with these weapons.
Moreover, this Iran weapons program would have an attractive array of high-value targets. American forces cluster in a small handful of bases and warships in the Gulf, adjacent to major energy terminals and the world’s most important energy shipping point in the narrow Strait of Hormuz. These sites do not have anything remotely like Israel’s air and missile shield, a concern reflected in recent comments from senior US military officials about needing time to prepare regional defenses.
Iran’s past attacks with these weapons reliably hit their aimpoints. Most memorably, Iran launched a surprise cruise missile and drone swarm against Saudi energy facilities in 2019, and a ballistic missile barrage against US forces in Iraq several months later.
Even though it chose to telegraph its missile strike on Al-Udeid airbase in Qatar last year, American troops had to evacuate in advance, given their lack of adequate defenses. Both during and since the June conflict, Iran has prepared attacks and conducted military exercises to target US forces and energy shipping around Hormuz.
Iran also knows from past practice that threatening such attacks can generate pressure on America from its Gulf partners, all of whom want to deescalate tensions that could otherwise shoot oil prices upward and jeopardize their ambitious, but vulnerable, economic development projects.
Iran’s regime should know its short-range weapons are central to the strike options being readied for President Trump’s consideration. America’s commander-in-chief should make painfully and explicitly clear that Tehran cannot escalate its way out of its predicament — at home or abroad.
Jonathan Ruhe is the Fellow for American Strategy at the Jewish Institute for National Security of America.