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Jewish orphans evacuated from Odessa to Berlin at Ukraine war’s start are headed home again
ODESSA, Ukraine (JTA) – A year after Rabbi Mendy Wolff spirited 120 children and staff away from the Mishpacha Orphanage in this war-torn country to the safety of Berlin, he is preparing to bring them home.
That’s not because the war is over — far from it. One year after Russian tanks first rolled into Ukraine, fighting grinds on and much of Ukraine has been plunged into austerity conditions.
Instead, the children of Mishpacha are headed back to Odessa because of the high cost of keeping them fed, housed and educated in Germany. Chaya Wolff, Mendy’s mother and the wife of Odessa’s chief rabbi, Avraham Wolff, said the price tag was 750,000 euros — close to $800,000 — a month. They’ll join other Ukrainians who have returned to their homeland as it became clear that the war would not end quickly.
“We could have bought seven buildings for the [Jewish] community in Odessa with that money,” she said from Odessa, where she stayed along with her husband after the Russian invasion to care for remaining Jews in the city, where the Wolff family operates Chabad of Odessa. “But now the money is finished and it’s time to bring our children home.”
Mendy Wolff said that when he first headed to Berlin several days after Russia’s Feb. 24, 2022, invasion, he expected to return home in a matter of days. He had become the orphanage’s director overnight, when his parents tasked him with getting the children out of Ukraine. He and his wife, Mushky, had instructed their charges to pack two of each item of clothing.
German President Frank-Walter Steinmeier talks with refugee children from the Jewish community in Odessa at a Chabad center in Berlin two days after their arrival as refugees, March 7, 2022. (Clemens Bilan – Pool/Getty Images)
“As I was packing, I remember spotting my Megillat Esther on the shelf and thinking I won’t be needing that because Purim is two weeks from now and we’ll be back by then,” Wolff told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency, referring to the biblical book traditionally read on Purim.
The journey to Berlin took 53 hours and traversed five international borders, but Wolff and his wife tried to make the atmosphere as fun as possible for the children.
“We sang songs all the way and even though most of the children knew what was happening, we made it feel like summer camp — only in the winter,” Wolff said.
Getting the children out of Ukraine meant pulling strings of all kinds, since most did not have passports or even original birth certificates. Most of the children in the orphanage have parents who are unable to care for them; Wolff got the parents’ permission to take the children out of the country, a challenging task in the chaos after the invasion. “That is why we didn’t escape on the first day of the war,” he told JTA from Berlin at the time.
For 40 children for whom no living relatives could be found, Rabbi Avraham Wolff and his wife, Chaya, signed on as legal guardians. The Chabad emissaries in Berlin managed to secure VIP status for the young refugees to bring them across EU borders as personal guests of German President Frank-Walter Steinmeier, who greeted them on their arrival in the German capital.
The Wolff family operates Chabad of Odessa. Rabbi Avraham and Chaya Wolff are sitting. Rabbi Mendy Wolff, who has overseen the children relocated from the group’s orphange to Berlin, is at the center in the back row. (Courtesy Chabad Odessa)
The children and orphanage staff were joined by other Odessians: university students, single mothers and their own offspring. Their flight and warm welcome in Berlin captured international headlines.
“Everyone knew there was an orphanage coming,” Mendy Wolff told JTA in Berlin shortly after the group’s arrival. “It was an unbelievable hug. It made us feel good in our hearts.”
But even then, the high cost of caring for the children in Berlin was weighing on the volunteers who leapt to help them. “We’ve received an outpouring of support from the community and beyond, lots of clothes and other supplies, but what we really need now are financial donations — only the food for all the children costs about 5,000 euros every day,” one told the Associated Press at the time.
Over the course of the next 11 months, the Hotel Müggelsee, on the banks of Berlin’s largest lake of the same name, would become home to some 300 Jewish refugees. In that time, the group celebrated not just Purim but a full year of Jewish holidays, as well as the gamut of Jewish lifecycle events, from bar mitzvahs to births and brisses. The group recently celebrated the first birthday of the youngest child to make the trek from Odessa, Tuvia, who was just 5 weeks old when he arrived in Berlin.
Jewish children from Odessa in war-torn Ukraine celebrate Purim 2022 with members of the Chabad Berlin Jewish community, March 17, 2022. (Omer Messinger/Getty Images)
For Wolff, the hardest part was grappling with the unknown. “It was very similar to what people experienced at the beginning of the coronavirus pandemic. You don’t know who it will infect or how many people will die or how long you’ll need to live like this.”
Like many others, Wolff was certain that Russian President Vladimir Putin’s army would crush Ukraine in a matter of days. “With each passing day we saw that the Ukrainians were far more resilient than we had given them credit for and that the Russians weren’t as much as superheroes as we thought.”
The irony that Germany, and not Israel, became the host country for Jewish refugees from Eastern Europe is not lost on the Wolffs. While Mendy is reluctant to express political opinions of any kind, his mother, Chaya, is more forthright, saying that Israel had refused them entry.
Mark Dovev, the regional director of Nativ, the Israeli government office that facilitates immigration to Israel from the former Soviet Union, later told JTA that taking in a minor from another country is “tantamount to kidnapping.” Brushing off Dovev’s objections, Chaya Wolff said, “Just as Germany turned a blind eye, Israel could have also taken them in temporarily as refugees.”
The children and staff of Mishpacha Orphanage in Odessa pose outside the Hotel Mugglesee in Berlin, their home for nearly a year since fleeing war in Ukraine. (Courtesy Chabad Odessa)
Since German law bans homeschooling, the children were required to enroll in a local school as well as to learn German. German authorities allowed the student body to largely adhere to the Ukrainian curriculum, however, and they were taught by a handful of the women refugees who happened to be teachers. The hotel, which functioned as a dormitory, doubled as a branch of the local Chabad school — replete with classrooms and a schoolyard.
But keeping the refugees in Berlin came at a steep price, footed by various donors such as the International Fellowship for Christians and Jews as well as private donations. An online fundraiser netted $685,500 in small gifts from more than 5,000 donors — a significant tally, but far short of its $1 million goal. So it was mostly out of economic considerations, then, that the Wolffs decided to close up shop in Berlin and bring the refugees home later this month.
While some Ukrainians who fled the country say they have no intention of returning while the war rages, the Wolffs and their charges are hardly the first Ukrainians to make their way back home. Many of them have cited the high cost of life abroad, along with separation from family and guilt about abandoning their country, for coming back to a warzone. So many Ukrainians were returning last fall that the country’s leaders urged them to wait until this spring to return, lest they tax fragile infrastructure.
Ukrainians queue at the railway station in Przemysl, Poland, to depart for Ukraine, amid a reversal in migration patterns as the Ukraine war ground on, Dec. 20, 2022. (Dominika Zarzycka/NurPhoto via Getty Images)
According to Mendy Wolff, his group would be staying in Berlin were it not for budgetary concerns. Still, he said, there were many positive aspects about the decision to return home.
“Psychologically, it’s not easy being here. You’re not living like a human. It’s like living on borrowed time and in a refugee camp, albeit a luxury refugee camp,” he said. “I’m very excited to be in my own bed and my own blankets.”
For both mother and son, the responsibility of bringing the refugees back to a country that is still very much at war weighs heavily. Odessa is faring better than many other southern Ukrainian cities like Mykolaiv and Kherson to the east, which have suffered daily shelling. Still, air raid sirens sound multiple times a day and there is no electricity for 20+ hours. But as long as residents have access to bomb shelters and generators — including the kind made from car batteries that Avraham Wolff recently held a fundraiser to buy — Chaya Wolff describes it as “livable.”
“It’s not an easy decision and we hope it’s the right one,” Chaya Wolff said. “At the end of it all, we’re ‘believers, the children of believers,’” she added, quoting the Talmud.
Toby Axelrod contributed reporting from Berlin.
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Looking for the right Yiddish word? This 1950 reference book finds it for you
As more people explore Yiddish, a thick 1950 book I discovered on a beloved friend’s shelf can help anyone find the exact right word for any situation.
Der Oytser fun der Yidisher Shprakh (The Treasure of the Yiddish language) published by the YIVO Institute in New York and available digitally through the Yiddish Book Center, is a 1,000-page Yiddish thesaurus, modeled on Roget’s Thesaurus of the English Language.
Like Roget’s, a standard source for writers and students of English, Der Oytser is not arranged alphabetically, but according to concepts. If you’re looking for a word related to evil, you look up the concept “evil,” and there you find many words related to it, for example, “untoward, black, sinister, wicked, wrong, vicious, sinful and criminal.”
The book was born of a project by author Nahum Stutchkoff to create a new kind of lexicon for the Yiddish language. He launched the project under the editorial oversight of Max Weinreich, the great Yiddish philologist and then director of YIVO. Yiddish had had many dictionaries over the course of its existence, but never a thesaurus of this kind. The result is a magnificent work of lexicography, 15 years in the making, a storehouse of over 175,000 Yiddish words, phrases, folk sayings, and idioms.
The book is out of print but Yiddish students and enthusiasts can download it from the Yiddish Book Center’s digital library. There’s also a free digitized version of the book printed in the English alphabet for people who don’t read Yiddish. Instead of an index, readers use the search box.
In 1950, a mere five years after the Holocaust, the Oytser was finally published. It included a preface by Weinreich, with the following words:
The very fact that, despite the years of the huge catastrophe that befell our people, a great man with vision has appeared to gather the scattered treasures of our language, can surely serve as a symbol of our unbroken collective will to survive. In Nahum Stutchkoff we see a love of mame-loshn, a keen understanding of both broad concepts and the smallest of details, tireless perseverance and pragmatism in carrying out the designated plan for Der Oytser fun der Yidisher Shprakh.
It is without a doubt, the greatest complete achievement of Yiddish lexicography since Jehoshua Mordechai Lifschitz‘s dictionary, compiled during the last third of the nineteenth century.
For the first time we see the full inventory of the Yiddish language, in accordance with the knowledge that the field of Yiddish research has accumulated under the authority of the YIVO Institute.
Weinreich goes on to speak about the problems of standardizing Yiddish, Yiddish dialectology, the Germanisms, Americanisms, Slavicisms in Yiddish and how Stutchkoff addresses these issues.
In his own introduction, Stutchkoff states he had two purposes in mind: (1) to gather as many Yiddish words, phrases and proverbs as he could, and (2) to provide a helpful tool for the Yiddish speaker and writer.
When you use a dictionary, says Stutchkoff, you have a word in mind and want to find or clarify its meaning. The words in a dictionary, therefore, are arranged alphabetically. His thesaurus, on the other hand, like Roget’s, is for a user who has an idea but can’t recall the right word. It is therefore arranged according to ideas. He created 620 categories, such as onheyb, or beginning (category No. 41); glaykhayt, equality (153), and libe, love (500).
Let’s say you’re looking for a Yiddish word related to thieves. You may know the word ganef, thief, but need a different word. So you turn to the index at the back of the Oytser where there are thousands of words arranged alphabetically and find the word ganef, which has the number 483 next to it That means all the words related to ganef are listed under number 483 of the 620 idea categories. You would then turn to the section for number 483 and find no less than seven pages of terms and expressions related to ganef, including, for example, the word marvikher — a dealer in stolen items, as well as the proverb dos ken nor a ganef (Only a thief would think of that). Those seven pages demonstrate the incredible richness of the Yiddish language.
The Oytser also contains the colorful slang of various occupations and groups such as klezmers, thieves, cobblers, actors, tailors and butchers.
Nahum Stutchkoff wasn’t an academic. He was an actor, a playwright, and a popular radio personality before he became a masterful lexicographer.
Stutchkoff was born in 1893 in a town called Brok in Czarist Poland. When he was 7, his family moved to Warsaw, where he was sent to cheder and yeshiva. At the age of 16, he was drawn to the theatre. He began translating and reworking plays for a Yiddish theatrical company from the standard European repertoire, such as, for example, Moliere’s The Miser. Eventually he became an actor too, touring with the company throughout Poland and Russia.
In 1912 he served a stint in the Czarist army. Upon his release in 1917, he again joined a theatrical troupe, eventually becoming director of the Yiddish State Theatre in Vitebsk. In 1923, he emigrated to the United States.
In New York, where he settled, he performed in various Yiddish theatres and authored plays, musical comedies and operettas for the Yiddish theatre. In 1926, he became secretary of The Yiddish Playwrights League of America.
He then took up a radio career. Every Sunday, starting in 1932, on the Forward radio station WEVD (the call letters are the initials of Eugene Victor Debs, the leader of the American Socialist Party), he performed a children’s radio show called The Uncle Nahum Hour, as well as other radio programs.
In 1931, he turned to lexicography, publishing another creative work: a 330-page Yiddish rhyming dictionary.
Stutchkoff died in 1965, but he left us a great legacy: a wealthy storehouse of the Yiddish language that continues to inform and entertain Yiddish enthusiasts everywhere.
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The harrowing German concept that Donald Trump has not yet managed to achieve
Since the start of his second term, Donald Trump has been following a despot’s playbook. Trump himself has all but acknowledged this, by gleefully sharing with New York Times reporters Maggie Haberman and Jonathan Swan for their new book a “historian’s” assessment that Trump has more power than Attila the Hun, Genghis Khan, Napoleon, Stalin, Mao and Hitler.
Never mind that it wasn’t a historian at all who came to this conclusion, but a longtime friend and caddy of golfer Gary Player. The anecdote shows what’s going on in Trump’s head: the fantasies of an 80-year-old would-be despot who’s more fixated on his place in history than on the concerns of even the MAGA faithful.
What Trump has been up to amounts to nothing less than trying to capture and radicalize the American soul — persecuting immigrants of color, gays, lesbians and other minorities; coarsening Americans into Trump’s own brand of vulgarity; lobbing figurative Molotov cocktails at the rule of law; perverting America’s history; and sowing divisions that echo the raw spite that once split North from South. It’s an attempted American variant of what Germans call Gleichschaltung, the Nazis’ 1933 rapid re-engineering of every facet of German life — business, culture, sports, education, and all else — to conform to the doctrines of Adolf Hitler.
With America’s 250th birthday now behind us, it’s worth asking how far Trump has already taken the country down the path of an American Gleichschaltung.
As Hitler was rising to power, Germany was in a perpetual state of political, economic and social upheaval. During the 15 years between Germany’s World War I defeat and Hitler’s rise to power, roughly a dozen serious attempts were made to overthrow the government — from communist revolutions to right-wing putsches. The best known is Hitler’s own failed Beer Hall Putsch in Munich in 1923.
On the evening of Nov. 8, 1923, Hitler and a contingent of Brown Shirts stormed Munich’s Bürgerbräukeller during a gathering of Bavarian government and community leaders. Climbing onto a chair, Hitler bellowed “The German revolution has begun!” The next day the Nazi leader led 2,000 followers on a march through the city, hoping to incite a nationwide uprising. Bavarian state police were waiting. About a dozen of Hitler’s followers were killed in a fusillade of gunfire. Hitler escaped but was tracked down and arrested. He was given a five-year prison sentence but a Nazi-friendly court granted him parole after only 10 months.
Hitler focused on rebuilding the party. When the Great Depression struck Germany, putting millions out of work, Hitler’s radical and antisemitic pronouncements found resonance among the populace, resulting in increased political power for the Nazi party. As successive coalition governments fell in the face of political and economic turmoil and street violence, the Nazi leader was made chancellor in January 1933 through backroom political dealings.
After fire destroyed the Reichstag on Feb. 27, 1933, there was little stopping the German chancellor on his march to one-man rule. The very next day key civil liberties — including freedom of expression, of the press, and of assembly, as well as protections against house searches and property confiscation — were abruptly suspended by a decree whose title claimed it was “For The Protection of People and State.” Amid mass arrests and terror by Hitler’s Storm Troopers, and with much of the populace already backing the Nazi leader, Gleichschaltung was carried out within two months.
Which brings us to Donald Trump.
The Jan. 6, 2021 assault on the U.S. Capitol echoes the Beer Hall Putsch in one essential respect: a leader inciting followers to march in an attempted coup d’état.
“After this, we’re going to walk down and I’ll be there with you. We’re gonna walk down to the Capitol,” Trump told the MAGA mob at a rally. “Because you’ll never take back our country with weakness. You have to show strength and you have to be strong.” Trump lied; he didn’t accompany them on the march. Back at the White House, he let the violence happen as America watched in horror.
Neither Trump nor Hitler had to stay long in the wilderness. During Hitler’s brief incarceration at Landsberg Prison, Nazi comrades like Rudolf Hess made pilgrimages to visit the boss. For Trump, after retreating to Mar-a-Lago, it became a parade of sycophants — among them the late Lindsey Graham, Matt Gaetz, Lauren Boebert and Marjorie Taylor Greene — each making the journey to pay homage.
Trump’s intent to rule like an authoritarian began manifesting itself on the very first day of his return to the White House.
There was the flurry of Executive Orders on inauguration day, signed with Trump’s Sharpie in carefully choreographed photo-ops. It was all spectacle, as Trump basked in the role of a ruler issuing edicts that were intended to recast the land in his image. “Could you imagine Biden doing this,?” Trump boasted while holding up a freshly signed order. The most outrageous edict was Trump’s pardon of about 1,500 Jan. 6 insurrectionists, akin to Third Reich pardons for Nazis who had been convicted of crimes before Hitler ascended to power.
Trump’s unleashing of ICE and other federal agents to terrorize immigrants showed how far he was willing to go — masked agents making arrests at Home Depot parking lots and inside immigration courts, brutally yanking people out of their vehicles, and in Chicago, a raid that included agents rappelling from a Black Hawk helicopter and using flashbang grenades, automatic weapons, and breaching tools as they burst into apartments.
Trump insists that he is above the law. His most radical acolyte — Stephen Miller — argued that Trump’s absolutist power extends to relations with other countries, an argument for taking Greenland.
And so here we are, a year-and-a-half after Trump’s second inauguration. The republic is battered, bruised and wobbly, but it still stands. To a significant degree this is because of federal courts that have blocked dozens of Trump’s assaults against democracy — often with excoriating words, like these from U.S. District Judge William Young, a Ronald Reagan appointee: “The President’s palpable misunderstanding that the government simply cannot seek retribution for speech he disdains poses a great threat to Americans’ freedom of speech.”
Hitler never faced this kind of judicial opposition. And he was never confronted with the magnitude and fearlessness of citizen resistance that has swept across the US — like the Minneapolis protests triggered by the killings of Renée Nicole Good and Alex Pretti.
Trump’s approval ratings have plummeted because of his war in Iran and soaring consumer prices, some Republicans are finally daring to resist him, the MAGA movement is fraying, Jeffrey Epstein still dogs him, and a snowballing number of Americans are infuriated over Trump’s abuse of his presidential powers to enrich himself and his family — raking in at least $2.2 billion in 2025.
With the midterm elections four months away, our democracy may be facing greater peril than at any time since the Civil War. Like a mortally wounded beast, Trump may resort to desperate measures for survival. He’s already working to poison the midterms — dismantling federal election oversight, suing states to imply their elections are insecure, and stoking daily mistrust about any contest where Democrats might topple Republicans. Each move lays the groundwork for claiming fraud, contesting results, or deploying more extreme measures under the guise of “protecting” the vote.
We needn’t look too far back in history for despots who chose a scorched-earth exit as they faced the loss of power.
The post The harrowing German concept that Donald Trump has not yet managed to achieve appeared first on The Forward.
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The real reason Clavicular is in Israel
Clavicular is partying in Tel Aviv this week.
If you don’t know who that is, first of all, I’m happy for you. Clavicular is a looksmaxxer, part of an online male subculture that subscribes to the idea that becoming as hot as possible is the main, perhaps the only, meaningful thing to do with one’s life, and the only road to success. To achieve peak hotness — “ascend,” in looksmaxxing lingo — followers of the doctrine engage in such activities as hitting themselves in the face with a hammer to supposedly sharpen their jaw line (“bone-smashing”), or taking steroids and meth to improve their physique.
The last time Clav — as people call him, though his real name is Braden Peters — went viral, it was for getting turned down repeatedly by French women during Paris fashion week. The time before that was for dancing with a bunch of far-right influencers, including noted antisemite Nick Fuentes and manosphere titan Andrew Tate, to Kanye West’s Führer-sampling song “Heil Hitler” and singing along to the offensive lyrics.
Which is why Clavicular’s sudden appearance in Israel was such a surprise — and a controversial one. In one video, the bouncer at a Tel Aviv club kicks him out, saying no one who hates Israel is welcome inside. Several Israeli feminist influencers have also decried his visit, pointing to his bad behavior with women. And, of course, countless users online have accused him of normalizing genocide, including mega-popular streamer Hasan Piker. But others are excited by his presence; a female IDF soldier is also appearing in his videos (she’s now facing disciplinary action for the collab), as is Chabad influencer, Yossi Farro and he’s drawn excited crowds in Tel Aviv.
Farro was perhaps the first Jewish influencer to court Clavicular after the “Heil Hitler” incident; his usual schtick is wrapping tefillin with celebrities. But he made a video last month feeding the looksmaxxer the traditional Ashkenazi Shabbat stew cholent — Clav said it was good — and it went viral in the Jewish world, where people decried the effort at rehabilitation. But the clip also went viral with antisemites: Fuentes said he wanted to hang a mezuzah and get in with Jews, too.
The first announcement that Clavicular was in Tel Aviv also came with a post from Farro, crossposted by several large Jewish social media accounts. In the video, Farro gifts Clav a memento that could not be more of our times: a necklace featuring an OpenAI logo with a Star of David in the middle. Later, he posted a video of a conversation with Clavicular calling the biblical Joseph the first looksmaxxer. It felt surreal.
That’s the whole point. Clavicular is just as obsessive about his fame as he is about his looks. Clicks boost accounts no matter whether they’re from haters or followers; monetized social media pays the same amount for adoring comments as it does for ones calling Clavicular evil and praying to spit on his grave. Engagement is engagement. (Farro, who didn’t reply to a request for comment, seems to be operating by the same philosophy.)
The simple answer as to why he was in Israel was because it would be controversial — which it was — and controversy earns him money and eyes. Clavicular said that he noticed everyone was talking about the nation, but almost no influencers were going. He figured he would go viral if he bucked the trend. It’s not by accident that Clav’s one-time publicist, Mitchell Jackson, specializes in cancelled figures of all political persuasions, including Candace Owens, Caroline Calloway and an OnlyFans model named Adam22. The point is attention, not adulation.
In an interview with The Free Press, Clavicular said he did not see his visit as political; he came to party. And he criticized the idea that a young influencer should have any political take, or that the outlet should even ask about his views. He doesn’t know about anything but looksmaxxing, he wrote in a post, and believes it’s irresponsible for him to talk about anything else. While one could say advising teens to take steroids and meth is also irresponsible, he’s not wrong about his ignorance of geopolitics.
But many Israelis and Jews are happy to have him, despite his “Heil Hitler” singalong. Israel has been short on positive PR, and Clav has called the country beautiful and fun. Never mind that Clavicular is followed by at least as many haters, watching out of Schadenfreude, as he is fans, and hardly brings uncomplicated good vibes to Israel with him. At least someone popular among the youth, who are increasingly critical of Israel, said something good about the nation. Many Israelis seem desperate enough for global goodwill that they’re willing to overlook Clav’s antisemitism. People are even claiming he’s Jewish now. (And maybe he is; he hasn’t confirmed or denied, but he’s certainly never mentioned it before.)
And, of course, Clavicular does have adherents who believe anything he does is cool, that he’s always “mogging” (dominating via his powerful aura, more or less). So even if he proclaims he has no political opinion, everything is politics and his presence serves to cast Israel in a more positive light, even if it’s the nihilistic glow of an amoral influencer who cares about looking good above all else. He may be cringe, but he’s popular. Maybe that’s enough for some, but it highlights how low the bar is for Israel’s public image in this moment.
For Clavicular, though, it’s all a game. He doesn’t care about Israel’s image or the war in Gaza or settlers or Palestinians. His only side is his own, and even then he doesn’t need to be popular; he only needs to be seen. He said he plans to stream in Russia next.
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