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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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The Hardest Thing in Philanthropy Is Saying ‘No’
An aerial view of the Temple Mount in the Old City of Jerusalem. Photo: Wikimedia Commons.
When people ask what the hardest thing about working in philanthropy is, they expect to hear about challenges related to raising money or dealing with difficult donors or recipients in various situations.
In actuality, the answer is significantly more painful: The hardest thing in philanthropy is saying “no.”
We know when there is money available and when there isn’t. At the end of the day, someone needs to make decisions.
I recently looked into the origin of the word philanthropy. The word is derived from an ancient Greek word “philos,” which refers to love, and “anthropos,” which refers to people. Basically, philanthropy literally translates to the love of humanity.
Note that there is no mention of money or donations in this definition. This shows something profound: the basic necessity of philanthropy is having a genuine desire to help other people. Money is simply a tool.
Imagine two cases that come up on the same day: One person needs an urgent financial grant for food. The second person requests support for studies that will allow him to earn a decent living and become independent, helping him stand on his own two feet. The budget is only able to help one of them. Which would you choose?
What needs to be considered: Is it better to give someone a fish, or teach them how to fish? I believe that it’s better to invest in someone who will be able to stand on their own two feet tomorrow and potentially even help others in the future. True, we have to say “no” to someone else, but that’s part of the decision.
I’ve been working in fundraising for more than 40 years in the United States, Canada, and Israel. The money we transfer is not ours — it’s the money of other people who have trusted us. We are the faithful messengers, which means we must ask: What will the effects of this money be?
It’s also a matter of professional responsibility. Every dollar is scrutinized — is the organization legitimate? Does it comply with tax laws on both sides? Just a month ago, I had to explain to a donor that donations to military causes do not meet the definition of charity under US tax law. That’s the kind of guidance an intermediary organization should give — even when it means saying “no.”
At our foundation, we work as a bridge between donors in North America and nonprofits in Israel. A donor in Toronto or New York wants to help in Israel, but they need someone on the ground to check and verify their potential projects. True philanthropy begins with loving people, but continues with the understanding that you can’t help everyone. And when the moment comes to say “no” — and it always will — you have to remember that it’s part of the mission. Because if we say “yes” to everyone, it would prevent us from helping anyone.
Chaim Katz is the founder and CEO of the Ne’eman Foundation, which helps Israeli non-profits receive donations from North America.
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UC San Diego ‘Guardian’ Journalist Unfairly Attacks Study Abroad Program in Israel
The San Diego skyline. Photo: Wikimedia Commons
Following the announcement of the UC San Diego study abroad program in Israel and Jordan this winter, some students — including UCSD Guardian senior staff writer Jaechan Preston Lee — expressed outrage at the Anthropology department’s decision to host the trip.
The critical article that Lee published in the university paper last month parades misinformation as truth, and exacerbates the already fragile climate on campus.
His article conveys Israel as a militaristic, vengeful, malevolent, and hateful state. And his argument promotes exclusion and discourages students from gaining a comprehensive understanding of perspectives they may not agree with.
Accepting Lee’s call to cancel the trip would undermine our school’s commitment to academic freedom, further demonize pro-Israel and Jewish community members, and allow his deeply distorted worldview to continue bullying its way into wider acceptance.
On Oct. 5, the UCSD Anthropology Department sent an email to all undergraduate students offering the opportunity to learn about the region’s “ancient and recent past” by “meeting people of very different religious and ethnic backgrounds.”
Two weeks later, Lee argued that the trip is “unethical and reckless” because it is “a form of American and Israeli soft power influence on the West’s perception of land rights and indigeneity in the Middle East.” He justifies his position in a number of ways, all of which collapse under even modest scrutiny.
First, it’s important to address his false claims. The characterization of Israel as an “apartheid state” and the current conflict with the Palestinians as a “genocide” are easily disproven.
Palestinian Arab citizens of Israel enjoy full and equal rights. They serve in every single level of society — from the Supreme Court and Knesset to all levels of civil life — and policies regarding the disputed territories are either temporary or a response to constant terror threats.
The genocide accusation is equally false. First, there was no intention to commit genocide — which is legally and morally required for the term to ever apply. Israel was fighting a war of self defense after the Oct. 7 massacre. Second, any arguments about population decline in Gaza cannot be proven — because the death tolls released by the Hamas-run Gaza Health Ministry have been falsified and also debunked.
The genocide accusation is also a complete insult to populations that have undergone an actual genocide — since no “genocide” in history has included protective actions such as leaflet distribution to encourage evacuation, nor has it ended immediately after hostages were released. Israel had the fire power to kill hundreds of thousands, if not a million Gazans. If genocide were Israel’s true aim, why were none of these capabilities ever used?
What’s more, all of the sources that Lee offers have faced widespread criticism for being incredibly dishonest and systemically biased against Israel for decades.
The UN report Lee hyperlinks was co-written by a rapporteur who is so antisemitic that she is being sanctioned by the US government. Lee also cites Hamas-allied Qatari state media Al Jazeera to suggest that Israel attacked its neighboring countries unprovoked, without mention of Hezbollah in Lebanon, the Houthis in Yemen, or jihadist activity in Syria.
Lee’s work follows a pattern in biased discourse where the lie of Israel’s unique evil is repeated until nobody questions if it’s true. Regardless of intent, Lee has become a mouthpiece for the propaganda that he claims to oppose.
One revealing argument targets Israel’s archaeological work, which Lee portrays as a means for the state to exert control over disputed land. By acknowledging Jewish artifacts beneath the soil, he implicitly affirms the deep historical Jewish roots in the region, yet dismisses that history as irrelevant to Jewish claims to the land. He also overlooks concerns that, under full Palestinian control, many of these sites and artifacts would risk neglect or destruction. The very existence of this debate underscores the importance of students seeing Israel’s archaeological realities firsthand.
Lee also fails to mention that the trip will include excursions in Jordan. The program is clearly designed to provide a balanced regional perspective rather than promote any single narrative.
At its core, the article is an excuse to attack Israel and isolate Zionist students. To deprive students of the opportunity to visit Israel is to attack our community’s freedom of choice and academic strength.
If the mere exposure to opposing perspectives derails your cause, perhaps it isn’t an honest one.
The campus culture at UCSD has been divisive and exclusionary towards Jews and Israelis since Oct. 7, 2023. Harmful narratives shut out anyone whose experiences do not align, and Lee’s piece will likely contribute to this trend.
By hosting this trip, the Anthropology Department takes a step toward changing that. It demonstrates a commitment to fostering global citizens and critical thinkers who inform their opinions through conversations with real people rather than 60-second videos on TikTok feeds.
I hope that the trip’s participants will show our campus what it means to engage rather than alienate. Maybe they will open the door for a generation of students who choose curiosity over banishment, and have the courage to see one another as people, not as sides of a centuries-old geopolitical conflict.
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The Netherlands Shows Her True Colors Once Again
A view shows the Peace Palace, which houses the International Court of Justice (ICJ), in The Hague, Netherlands, April 28, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Piroschka van de Wouw
I never thought I would write these words, but I have lost respect for my own country. I say that with sadness, not anger. For years, I believed in the Dutch reputation for fairness, nuance, and moral clarity. Today, that image has crumbled. The way Dutch media covers Israel is not just biased; it is intellectually lazy, historically empty, and socially dangerous. Worst of all, it fuels a rising wave of antisemitism in a nation that should know exactly where that road leads.
The most recent example came from Trouw, a newspaper that once claimed to value journalistic integrity. It published an uncritical article praising the views of Ta-Nehisi Coates, who labeled Israel an “apartheid state.” That accusation was presented to readers as if it were self-evident truth, not an opinion. No context. No history. No pushback. No mention of equal rights for all Arab citizens. No mentions of terrorism, of facts on the ground, of the repeated rejection of peace initiatives, or of the lives Israelis have been forced to defend from relentless violence. It was a piece of writing that replaced journalism with activism, and knowledge with slogans.
If Dutch journalists insist on making comparisons, then honesty requires them to explain what real apartheid actually looked like. South Africa enforced legally defined racial categories, stripped millions of their citizenship, banned interracial marriage, separated schools, hospitals, beaches, toilets, buses, universities, and neighborhoods. Black South Africans were barred from voting, from certain jobs, and from owning land in most of the country. They were forced into impoverished “homelands,” denied freedom of movement, and subject to routine torture and violence by the state. None of this resembles Israel. Not even remotely.
But the truth no longer seems to matter in Dutch newsrooms. Nuance has disappeared. Context has vanished. Emotion has replaced evidence, and ideology has replaced inquiry. Israel is guilty by default, while its critics are treated as prophets whose words require no verification.
The Dutch media’s relentless one-sidedness reveals something deeper and more troubling than mere ignorance. It reflects a renewed comfort with blaming Jews for the world’s problems, a habit with a long and ugly history in Europe. When articles like the one in Trouw are circulated without challenge, they do not educate the public; they radicalize it. They normalize anti-Jewish hostility. They transform a complex conflict into a morality play, where Israelis are cast as colonial villains and Palestinians as blameless victims, regardless of reality.
As a Dutch citizen, I am ashamed. Ashamed of the intellectual laziness in our press. Ashamed of the moral posturing that ignores Jewish suffering. Ashamed of how quickly we have forgotten our responsibility to truth after the darkest chapter in European history. And ashamed that my country, once known for moral clarity, now prefers fashionable outrage over honest reporting.
Israel is not perfect. No nation is. But the apartheid accusation is not journalism. It is propaganda. And when the Dutch media amplifies it, they are not holding power to account — but are helping to spread a lie with real consequences for Jewish communities and for the possibility of peace.
It is time for Dutch journalists to rediscover integrity. And it is time for readers to demand it.
It is also time, more than ever, to stand up for Israel, because truth still matters.
Sabine Sterk is CEO of the NGO Time To Stand Up For Israel.