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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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Here Are Some Positive Local Developments in Support of Israel You Haven’t Heard About
Tennessee State Capitol Building in Nashville. Photo: Andre Porter/Wikimedia Commons.
On April 27, 2026, Tennessee Governor Bill Lee (R) signed legislation requiring state agencies to use the geographic name “Judea and Samaria” instead of “West Bank” in official state materials. Known as the “Recognizing Judea and Samaria Act,” the law asserts that these terms are historically and Biblically accurate.
Just the week before, the members of the Arizona House passed a nonbinding resolution saying the same thing, after the Arizona Senate approved the legislation in February.
These pro-Israel bills earned little press in the Jewish community and even less in the general media outside of Tennessee and Arizona. Americans of all faiths who support Israel should applaud the lawmakers in both Arizona and Tennessee for their leadership and commitment to historical truth. At a time of increasing misinformation and the targeting of Israel, this bill sends a clear message about the significance of recognizing the Jewish people’s deep ties — dating back to Biblical times — to the Land of Israel.
The city of Hebron is in Judea and is the ancient resting place of Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebecca, and Jacob and Leah. There are so many other links and ties proving the deep and continuous Jewish presence in the land, and these bills acknowledge that.
What’s more, this is a defeat for anti-Israel radicals in Tennessee who fought against the bill. The New York Times reported about those efforts: “The day of lobbying this month in the State Capitol in Nashville, coordinated by the American Muslim Advisory Council, attracted more than 100 Muslim students and community leaders.”
One year ago, Arkansas state legislators passed their “Recognizing Judea and Samaria Act,” following a 2023 Arkansas General Assembly resolution urging the use of the term “Judea and Samaria” instead of “the West Bank” in official state language.
While it can be argued that Arkansas, Tennessee, and Arizona are right leaning states, they often have Democratic or moderate trends and representatives. For example, from December 2020 through the beginning of 2023 neither of Arizona’s two senators were Republican. While Arizona Republicans control the state legislature, the margin is far from wide with just a handful of seats separating the parties.
Given the unprecedented levels of anti-Israel activity in both parties and the fact that anti-Zionists radicals are winning the anti-Israel legislation fight in far too many parts of the country, the question of how these seemingly symbolic wins matter is a legitimate one to ask.
Tip O’Neill, the Speaker of the House from 1977 to 1987, is remembered for coining the saying that “all politics is local.” From Jimmy Carter to Barack Obama, how many politicians serve early in their careers in their state legislatures? What’s more, these efforts force anti-Israel activists to play defense and occupy their time with things other than BDS, as was the case in Tennessee.
These are the kinds of innovative, accessible, and positive initiatives that the pro-Israel community should pursue much more frequently. Our confidence has been shaken by the harsh criticism of Israel from far too many on Capitol Hill, and these local efforts have been missing from our playbook for much longer than may have been reasonable. If only a handful more states enact such legislation, it will still be well worth it. Correcting false narratives and fighting for a cause you believe in is always worth it.
Moshe Phillips is national chairman of Americans For A Safe Israel, AFSI, (www.AFSI.org), a leading pro-Israel advocacy and education organization.
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How the Media Erases the Voices of Millions of Iranians
Cars burn in a street during an anti-regime protest in Tehran, Iran, Jan. 8, 2026. Photo: Stringer/WANA (West Asia News Agency) via REUTERS
A recent CNN article by Iranian freelance photojournalist Maryam Rahmanian, in collaboration with Kyle Almond and Brett Roegiers, purports to feature pictures and interviews of “everyday Iranians” amidst the war.
In “‘Nothing feels normal anymore’: How everyday Iranians are coping with war,” CNN claims to depict the average Iranian, but it should raise eyebrows. Whether a result of biased or gullible journalism, the CNN article fails to accurately inform its audience.
While there are no reliable surveys, there is clearly a significant portion of Iranian society that supports the war out of desperation, hoping for regime change.
Just four months ago, the Islamic Republic responded to mass protests with extreme violence, killing up to 36,500 protesters.
More were executed in the aftermath despite President Donald Trump’s clear red line warning the regime against killing protesters. Many Iranians posted videos of themselves asking President Donald Trump to militarily intervene.
In the early days of the war, many Iranians also posted videos of themselves thanking President Donald Trump and dancing in public. Then came the mass celebrations that erupted on Iranian streets following the killing of Iranian Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei by Israeli forces.
Anti-regime sentiments have been noted elsewhere in the media, too. Left-wing, diaspora Iranian journalist Arash Azizi wrote for The Atlantic that he was surprised that even Iranian socialist activists, typically biased against war and especially against the United States, were sympathetic and supportive of a military intervention.
NPR interviewed Iranians who had fled the war to Iraq and Turkey and reported that “most people told us they supported the strikes.”
After two months of war, Iranian attitudes have undoubtedly shifted, but in which direction we cannot know, given the regime-enforced Internet blackout in Iran. But anecdotal evidence — including my own conversations with those in Iran — suggests that a large portion of the population continues to hope that the hostilities resume until the regime falls.
Euronews’ Persian service recently published interviews of Iranians showing a divide between those who want the war to resume to bring down the Islamic Republic and those who oppose it, including those who have changed their minds since the war began.
Honest journalism would have reflected the diversity of views. But Rahmanian’s report instead falsely depicted Iranian views as monolithic against US and Israeli strikes.
Her first subject told her, “When I stepped outside, the atmosphere felt very different,” adding, “The streets were extremely crowded. Mothers were crying. A route that usually takes me 40 minutes took nearly three hours.”
A second subject said, “Fear quickly settled in. I live next to a mosque, and that made everything more frightening. I kept thinking it might become a target.”
These are common reactions to war, and that is precisely the problem. Iran is not a normal society at war. When it comes to Iran, anti-war and patriotic sentiments common among war-torn nations tell only a partial story when another significant portion of society invited foreign militaries to liberate them.
The context of the previous conflict is informative. The Twelve-Day War created a perception that military action would be light, and many Iranians assumed this war would look the same. They were wrong, but that group of people did not have a representation hearing in the CNN article.
One comment stood out. A 35-year-old woman, Salemeh, told Rahmanian, “I jump at every noise, wondering if something has been hit again,” adding, “There is construction near our house, and even those constant sounds make me anxious.” This recalled a conversation I had with a woman in her 60s from Tehran two weeks before the war, who told me the same thing almost word for word.
“There is construction by our apartment,” she told me, “At every loud sound, everybody jumps, asking, ‘Did [America] finally hit?’”
There is a key difference: The woman I talked to was excited about the prospect of war, hoping that it would take down the Islamic Republic. She told me, “I heard a very loud noise one day while in the shower.” She went on, “Convinced that the war had started, I excitedly jumped out to celebrate, naked, only to be disappointed.”
Another woman I interviewed weeks into the war, with the pseudonym Golnaz, whose home had been destroyed in a strike, told me that the destruction had made her even more supportive of the war. She explained that, because the price the nation had paid was so high, she did not want the war to stop before the regime fell, for the destruction to have been all for nothing.
She told me, “Do not let the war stop until they surrender.”
None of Rahmanian’s subjects said that they had previously supported the war, but several were against it in the outset. One woman, Akram, 63, told her, “I believe Israel and the United States have manipulated the situation, and I am proud that we have stood against a superpower and defended ourselves. For me, it is an honor to stand firm and say we resisted.”
While opposition to Israel persists among the older generations of Iranians (but not among the youth), anti-Americanism has been out of the mainstream for decades. The average Iranian does not view the “resistance” favorably. A plurality blamed only the regime for the Twelve-Day War, with 69 percent saying that “the Islamic Republic should stop calling for the destruction of Israel.” In other words, while CNN and Rahmanian claim that they were representing the everyday Iranian, they had to reach for the fringe.
The network also failed to provide readers with important context, shaping the credibility of the sentiments expressed. The Islamic Republic has been persecuting, even executing, those who have supported the war. For Iranians to publicly support the US and Israeli strikes is to put their lives on the line. Rahmanian, Almond, and Roegiers did not disclose this important context. The authors also failed to mention the January protests, during which many more Iranians were killed over four days than during 39 days of bombardment.
The largest news organization in the world should know better. There are a plethora of images and social media posts that confirm that a large number of Iranians have supported the war throughout. Many have even recorded themselves on rooftops cheering for the American and Israeli F-35s flying over their heads.
CNN should also know, and have reported on, the threat Iranians face for speaking out against the regime. It is also obvious that no journalist in Iran would be safe reporting on these matters for an American outlet, an act the regime equates with treason. By selling this one-sided story as the mainstream view in Iran, CNN erased the millions of desperate Iranians suffering under the thumb of the Islamic Republic’s oppression.
Shay Khatiri is an immigrant from Iran and a media researcher at CAMERA, the Committee for Accuracy in Middle East Reporting and Analysis, where this article also appeared.
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It Doesn’t Begin With Bricks; How to Stand Up to Jew-Hatred Today
A man walks through the grounds of the former Nazi German Auschwitz death camp for the annual International “March of the Living” in Oswiecim, Poland, April 18, 2023. Jakub Porzycki/Agencja Wyborcza.pl via REUTERS
My friend Abe Foxman who headed the ADL for many years and who passed away this week, used to say that the Holocaust didn’t begin with the bricks manufacturing the Concentration camps — it began with words and hate speech.
Words transformed Jews into something less than human beings, which allowed Nazis and their allies to dehumanize Jews. By dehumanizing Jews, it became possible — and much easier — to mass murder millions of them.
That same process is happening right now, all over the world.
This week, I attended the 90th anniversary of the founding of the World Jewish Congress (WJC) in Geneva. Representatives from almost 100 countries, as well as government representatives whose job is to fight antisemitism, were there. Each had a story to tell — a story of a world we never thought we would have to face again. It was two full days of stories.
But stories were not the main focus of the conference. Efforts to combat hate and antisemitism all over the world were on full display. In fact, 32 Special Envoys and Coordinators Combating Antisemitism from more than two dozen countries and international organizations issued a unified declaration from Geneva reaffirming a shared commitment to protect Jewish life and confront antisemitism in all its forms.
The joint statement — signed by representatives from the United States, European nations, Israel, Australia, Canada, the Organization of American States, OSCE, European Commission, and others — warns that antisemitism is no longer a marginal phenomenon, but an escalating global threat targeting Jewish communities, democratic values, and the foundations of free societies.
The signatories called for strengthened security for Jewish communities, prosecution of antisemitic offenders, expanded Holocaust education, and coordinated international action to combat the spread of antisemitic hatred online and offline.
Importantly, the statement demonstrates that despite political differences or differing national approaches, democratic nations remain united in the understanding that antisemitism cannot be tolerated — anywhere, at any time, or under any pretext.
Besides the Jewish leaders and the government representatives, three representatives stood out. The WJC gave a special Resilience Award to the parents of Ran Gvili, the police commander who was killed on October 7 and whose body was the last Gaza victim returned to Israel.
Second, Ambassador Rabbi Yehuda Kaploun, Special Envoy to Monitor and Combat Antisemitism from the US Department of State, was front and center, telling the crowd that this US administration is taking the lead in combating antisemitism worldwide.
Third, Mathias Döpfner, the CEO of Axel Springer SE, delivered a sweeping and uncompromising address before the World Jewish Congress Governing Board on Monday, declaring that antisemitism has become a global ideological movement threatening not only Jewish communities, but the future of Western civilization itself.
Speaking in front of the senior Jewish communal leaders, diplomats, and government officials, Döpfner condemned the worldwide surge in anti-Jewish hatred following the October 7 Hamas terror attacks, and delivered a forceful defense of Zionism, democratic values, and Israel’s right to defend itself.
“Right after the images of the victims were seen, the downplaying began. Right after the names of the murdered were known, the justifications began,” Döpfner declared.
Arguing that anti-Zionism has become the modern vehicle for antisemitism, Döpfner stated, “It is not Zionism that is racism. Rather, anti-Zionism is racism.”
“What does not make sense to me is this: Why should Zionism be an idea and a goal that only Jews can embrace?” he continued. “I am a Zionist.”
Declaring support for Israel inseparable from the defense of democracy and Enlightenment values, Döpfner defended, “A people’s right to live in safety. The right to defend oneself. The right not to be dependent on the mercy of others again. Anyone who questions these rights is not only questioning Israel — but the principles upon which free societies are founded.”
Throughout the address, Döpfner warned that antisemitism has entered what he described as a dangerous new phase fueled by ideological radicalization, elite institutional failure, and social media amplification.
“Antisemitism is no longer a dark shadow from Austria and Germany,” Döpfner said. “Since then, it has become a global export hit.”
Warning specifically about the rise of extremist ideologies within parts of Western political and cultural movements, Döpfner declared: “We must expose ‘woke’ ideology as a Trojan horse for antisemitism and Islamism.”
Calling for “new thinking and most importantly, new actions,” Döpfner outlined a five-point plan to confront the crisis, including a “zero-tolerance policy toward open hatred of Jews,” stronger action against antisemitic incitement online, expanded Holocaust education, and greater support for Jewish life in Europe.
Döpfner concluded the address with a call for solidarity with Israel and the Jewish people: “We shall all be Zionists!”
Döpfner stands in stark contrast to most of the press around the world. We should applaud him for his words and actions, and hope they are finally replicated elsewhere.
J. Philip Rosen is currently Chairman of the American Section of the World Jewish Congress and Board Member of Yeshiva University, as well as several other Jewish causes. He was Vice-Chair of Birthright Israel for many years.