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One rabbi’s lifesaving solution to help Odessa’s vulnerable Jews: jerry-rigged car batteries
This winter, the city of Odessa, Ukraine, feels like the heart of darkness.
The city is constant bombardment by the Russian military, freezing nighttime temperatures commonly fall below zero, and electricity is only available for six hours per day: three in the morning and three at night.
Amid these desperate circumstances, Avraham Wolff, the chief rabbi of Odessa and southern Ukraine, is trying to bring some light — and heat.
He’s doing so with jerry-rigged car batteries to provide warmth and electricity to about 400 Holocaust survivors in the city — the most vulnerable of the vulnerable.
“The ones at greatest risk of starving to death or freezing to death are the Holocaust survivors who were not able to flee this place,” Wolff said in a phone interview from Odessa. “Holocaust survivors are staring death in the face for the second time, and we can’t avert our eyes.”
Wolff is trying to raise $500,000 in funds to purchase heating units powered by car batteries. Placed inside a home, the two car batteries connect to special transistors, which generate sufficient electricity to heat an apartment. Each unit costs $1,400, and Wolff’s organization, Mishpacha Chabad Odessa, is trying to organize 357 units: one for each apartment where a Holocaust survivor lives. Accounting for spouses, the units will provide enough electricity for about 500 people.
This literally can stave off death, Wolff says — not only by providing lifesaving heat, but also the electricity essential to the elderly and frail.
“If they go to the bathroom in the dark and they fall and break their hip, that’s the beginning of the end,” he said. When there is no power, Wolff said, “it’s darkness. But not just darkness. Also cold and hunger.”
About 20,000 Jews remain in wartime Odessa. That’s less than half the Jewish population of 50,000 that was there just a year ago, before Russian invaded Ukraine. Since then, most have fled to safer places either in western Ukraine, elsewhere in Europe or Israel. Odessa’s Jewish schools once taught 1,000 children. Now, only 200 students remain.
Jerry-rigged heating units use a pair of car batteries connecting to transistors to generate the power needed to heat an apartment. (Courtesy of Mishpacha Odessa)
The Holocaust survivors in their 80s and 90s who remain in the city are either too old or infirm to endure a dangerous journey or unwilling to leave the place where their spouse is buried.
“Someone over 90 cannot start life over as a refugee,” Wolff said.
Air raid sirens go off four or five times a day. Most of the incoming Russian rockets are shot down by defense systems, but there are hits on infrastructure, including power plants. Even the six hours per day of light and heat are not reliable, according to Wolff.
“Two days ago, they hit two power plants, so the city had no electricity for 24 hours,” he said on Monday. “We’re constantly under this pressure. We’ve been living in a war zone for a long time.”
Aside from caring for the Holocaust survivors, Mishpacha Chabad Odessa organizes monthly food deliveries of basic supplies to the homebound Jewish elderly, including such essentials as rice, cooking oil, potatoes, meat and hygiene items, and run Jewish schools and preschools still operating in Odessa.
“We want to help these people not just spiritually, but physically,” the rabbi said. “Elderly Holocaust survivors are currently the highest-risk group, but we help everyone.”
Odessa once was home to the world’s second-largest Jewish community. In the 19th century, the city became a major center of Jewish life and culture, with a large and diverse Jewish population. Many Jewish immigrants came to Odessa during this period, fleeing persecution and poverty in other parts of Europe and the Russian Empire.
Before the Holocaust, one-third of Odessa’s population was Jewish. Then the Nazis came, and Jews were subjected to forced relocation, property confiscation and mass extermination. Approximately 25,000 Jews were killed in the city and its surroundings.
A year ago, before the current war, 1.1 million people lived in Odessa. Hundreds of thousands have fled.
Wolff, 52, has lived in Odessa since 1992, when he came to the country from Israel as an emissary of Chabad, the Jewish outreach movement. When war broke out last February, he left Ukraine temporarily to settle a group of orphans in Germany. Then he returned.
After the Russian invasion, many Ukrainian Jewish communities crumbled. People fled, and Jewish institutions and landmarks like synagogues, community centers and cemeteries were destroyed by Russian bombs.
“There is so much destruction,” Wolff said. “We’re going to do all we can to rebuild, with God’s help.”
With the Russian military targeting infrastructure like power plants, residents of Odessa, Ukraine, use candles for the scant electricity and heat they provide. (Courtesy of Mishpacha Odessa)
Despite the immense dangers and challenges, Wolff says he is optimistic about the future.
“I’m sure that after Ukraine wins, and life and peace returns, there will be a rapid return of those who left, and I think others will come because there will be an economic and building boom,” Wolff said. “I believe there’s a bright future.”
Part of Wolff’s job as a Jewish leader and Chabadnik is not only to provide physical aid, but positive morale and spiritual inspiration.
“When I was a child, I heard a story from an old Jew who had been imprisoned in Siberia,” Wolff recalled. “One day, he got up and he felt he couldn’t say Modeh Ani” — the Jewish morning prayer of gratitude — “because the Russian authorities had taken everything from him: his house, wife, yeshiva, grandkids, tefillin, kippah, tzitzit. He was all alone in a Siberian prison with nothing. But then he realized that the one thing Stalin couldn’t take from him was the ability to say Modeh Ani.”
Even in these grim times, Wolff said, there is a spirit that Russian President Vladimir Putin, who is prosecuting this war, cannot take away from Ukraine’s Jews.
“There’s a war, there are challenges, nothing is easy. It’s dark, it’s cold,” Wolff said. “But the ability to smile Putin didn’t take from us and can’t take away. This is what I try to show the community. In the end we’ll win, so let’s smile now, too.”
Those interested in supporting this effort can make a contribution here to fund the battery-powered heating units being deployed to help Odessa’s Holocaust survivors survive this winter.
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The post One rabbi’s lifesaving solution to help Odessa’s vulnerable Jews: jerry-rigged car batteries appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Former Biden Antisemitism Envoy Condemns Harris Campaign’s ‘Antisemitic Inquiry’ of Jewish Gov. Josh Shapiro
Pennsylvania Gov. Josh Shapiro delivers remarks at a bill signing event at Cheyney University, an HBCU in Cheyney, Pennsylvania, US, Aug. 2, 2024. Photo: Bastiaan Slabbers via Reuters Connect
The Biden administration’s deputy special envoy for combating antisemitism accused Kamala Harris’s 2024 presidential campaign of antisemitism following new revelations that the vetting process to determine her running mate for vice president involved grilling Pennsylvania Gov. Josh Shapiro, who is Jewish, on whether he was a “double agent” for Israel.
Jews should be “treated like any other American, regardless of religion, ethnicity, or race. That Gov. Josh Shapiro wrote that he was asked if he was a double agent of the world’s only Jewish state is an antisemitic inquiry,” Aaron Keyak, who also served as the “Jewish engagement director for the Biden-Harris presidential campaign in 2020, said in a statement.
Keyak suggested that Shapiro was “targeted by the staff of the presumptive Democratic presidential nominee” because of his religion, lamenting that the accusation represents a long line of incidents in which federal officials filling roles have “applied a double standard to American Jews during the vetting process.” He added that he had “personal experience” with being asked similar questions and that he has “heard from too many being asked similar questions over many years.”
The statement came after it was revealed that Shapiro was asked during the 2024 Democratic vice-presidential vetting process whether he had ever acted as a “double agent” of the Israeli government, a question he described as deeply offensive and emblematic of a broader problem in how pro-Israel views are sometimes treated in US politics.
In his forthcoming memoir, Where We Keep the Light, Shapiro reflects on being questioned by members of then-US Vice President Kamala Harris’s vetting team about his ties to Israel, including questions of whether he had ever communicated with Israeli intelligence or acted as a “double agent.” Shapiro writes that he immediately pushed back, telling the vetting aide that the question was “offensive” and echoed long-standing antisemitic tropes questioning Jewish Americans’ loyalty.
According to Shapiro, he was told the questions were standard procedure. But the governor, one of the Democratic Party’s most prominent Jewish elected officials, says the experience left him unsettled, particularly because of the historical baggage attached to such accusations.
Shapiro portrays the encounter as “unnecessarily contentious” and suggests in is memoir that no other candidate would be asked whether their faith or foreign policy views made them a secret agent of another country.
“Had I been a double agent for Israel? Was she kidding? I told her how offensive the question was,” Shapiro writes.
“Remus was just doing her job. I get it. But the fact that she asked, or was told to ask that question, by someone else, said a lot about some of the people around the VP,” the governor continues, referring to Dana Remus, a former White House counsel and member of the vetting team.
Shapiro claims that he felt bothered that the Harris team pressed him on his overarching worldview rather than the substance of his positions.
“It nagged at me that their questions weren’t really about substance,” Shapiro writes. “Rather, they were questioning my ideology, my approach, my world view.”
Shapiro also alleges that the Harris team asked whether he would be willing to apologize and walk back condemnations of pro-Hamas protesters on Pennsylvania college campuses. In the wake of Hamas’s Oct. 7, 2023, invasion of southern Israel, activists organized demonstrations celebrating the massacre and venerating the Palestinian terrorist group. Shapiro vigorously denounced the protesters, comparing them to the Ku Klux Klan. His response drew strong criticism from progressive corners of the Democratic Party, which accused him of harboring “anti-Palestinian racism.”
The controversy comes amid heightened political tensions in the Democratic Party over Israel following the Oct. 7 atrocities and the ensuing war in Gaza, which has intensified scrutiny of pro-Israel politicians, especially within progressive Democratic circles.
“The more I read about [Shapiro’s] treatment in the vetting process, the more disturbed I become,” Deborah Lipstadt, the former antisemitism envoy in the Biden administration, said in a post on X/Twitter. “These questions were classic antisemitism.”
Former longtime leader of the Anti-Defamation League Abraham Foxman echoed these condemnations on social media, calling the episode “very disturbing.”
“Aides focused on Israel to the extent he found it offensive. Something very troubling about our current political culture,” he wrote.
Shapiro ultimately was not selected as Harris’s running mate. Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz was chosen instead.
Harris, who served as vice president in the administration of former US President Joe Biden, lost the 2024 election to Donald Trump.
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‘Hands on Our Weapons’: Kataib Hezbollah in Iraq Threatens to Hit US Bases if Trump Strikes Iran
A vehicle carries the coffin of a commander from Iraq’s Kataib Hezbollah armed group who was killed in what they called a “Zionist attack” in the Syrian capital Damascus, during a funeral in Baghdad, Iraq, Sept. 22, 2024. Photo: REUTERS/Thaier Al-Sudani
Kataib Hezbollah, a US-designated terrorist group based in Iraq, has threatened to attack American military bases in the Middle East if President Donald Trump follows through on his threats to strike the Iranian regime in response to state violence against anti-government protesters.
“Kataib Hezbollah is part of the conflict between the United States of America and the Islamic Republic of Iran, and we will not stand on the sidelines. Our hands are on our weapons,” Abu Talib al-Saidi, a senior commander in the Iran-backed militia, told Shafaq News on Friday. He made the comments during a protest outside Iran’s embassy in Baghdad opposing Trump’s threats of military intervention against Tehran.
“During the 12-day war that America waged against Iran, there was a directive and mandate from [Iranian] Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei that we should not interfere in this war, but the situation now is completely different,” al-Saidi continued, referring to the Iran-Israel war last June, when the US struck Iranian nuclear sites following a devastating Israeli air campaign.
“The resistance’s missiles and drones are ready,” he added. “We have a high level of readiness and definitely in case the United States directs strikes on Iran, US bases in Iraq and neighboring countries will not be immune from our missiles and our planes.”
Kataib Hezbollah is part of Iraq’s Popular Mobilization Forces, a group of militias that are part of an official Iraqi security institution. According to the Washington Institute for Near East Policy, the Shiite terrorist group is “the premier militia in Iraq, operating under Iran’s direct command and fielding a wide range of cells responsible for kinetic, media, and social operations, some bankrolled by the Iraqi state.” The US government listed the organization as a Specially Designated Global Terrorist group on July 2, 2009, following a strike on troops in Iraq.
Al-Saidi’s warning followed repeated threats by Trump to target Iran in some manner in response to the regime’s deadly crackdown on protests, which began on Dec. 28 over economic hardships but quickly swelled into nationwide demonstrations calling for the downfall of the country’s Islamist, authoritarian system.
“We’re watching [the protests in Iran] very closely,” Trump told journalists aboard Air Force One on Jan. 4. “If they start killing people like they have in the past, I think they’re going to get hit very hard by the United States.”
The president’s top military advisers reportedly warned him that additional time would be needed to prepare for a potential attack on the regime.
On Jan. 11, Trump said that the US was willing to meet with Iranian officials and in touch with opposition leaders. Iranian Foreign Ministry spokesperson Esmaeil Baghaei said at the time that “the communication channel between our Foreign Minister Abbas Araqchi and the US special envoy [Steve Witkoff] is open and messages are exchanged whenever necessary.”
Two days later, Trump called on Iranian protesters to “take over your institutions” and suggested the US was prepared to take strong action against the regime.
“Iranian Patriots, KEEP PROTESTING – TAKE OVER YOUR INSTITUTIONS!!!” he posted on social media. “Save the names of the killers and abusers. They will pay a big price. I have canceled all meetings with Iranian Officials until the senseless killing of protesters STOPS. HELP IS ON ITS WAY. MIGA [Make Iran Great Again]!!!”
Last Wednesday, an anonymous US official told Reuters that the military had chosen to withdraw some personnel from military bases, a decision mirrored by the United Kingdom which pulled people from their posts in Qatar.
On Friday, Trump denied reports that pressure from Israel and Gulf Arab monarchies to reject a strike on Iran had influenced his decision not to strike yet. He told reporters on the White House lawn that “nobody convinced me. I convinced myself. You had yesterday scheduled over 800 hangings. They didn’t hang anyone. They canceled the hangings. That had a big impact.”
Khamenei and other Iranian officials have blamed Trump for the demonstrations.
The US-based group Human Rights Activists in Iran has confirmed 4,029 deaths during the protests, while the number of fatalities under review stands at 9,049. Additionally, at least 5,811 people have been injured the protests, and the total number of arrests stands at 26,015.
Iranian officials have put the death toll at 5,000 while some reports indicate the figure could be much higher. The Sunday Times, for example, obtained a new report from doctors on the ground, which states that at least 16,500 protesters have died and 330,000 have been injured,
Some Iraqi militia fighters, including members of Kataib Hezbollah, have reportedly aided the Iranian regime with the crackdown against protesters.
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His mother is Israeli, his father is Palestinian. His life? Complicated.
Ibrahim Miari begins his one-man autobiographical show, In Between, by spinning in a circle, arms outstretched, his body swaying to the strains of Arabic music and his smiling face lit by the spotlight above.
It’s a lyrical opening that softens up the audience before Miari, who’s a playwright and lecturer, gets to the meat of the play: his identity. His father, we learn, is a Palestinian-Muslim, while his mother is a Jewish-Israeli. (She converted to Islam to marry his father.) Miari doesn’t know how they met, so he concocts a fantasy version, a meet-cute set to a Beatles soundtrack, for this weekday audience at Northeastern University’s Blackman Theater. It’s gooey and romantic, but it prefigures one of the play’s defining motifs — that, political turmoil be damned, all you need is love. If this was perhaps an overly rosy outlook in 2011, when Miari first performed In Between, today it seems positively far-fetched.
Miari’s parents eventually settled in Akko, a mixed Arab-Jewish city on the coast of northern Israel. In the first of a series of episodes from Miari’s childhood, he attends a mainstream Israeli school — over his father’s objections — where he celebrates Israel’s Independence Day and, for a Purim costume contest, dresses up as a garden in bloom, winning first prize. His father tells his son that next year he will dress up as a cactus, the better to let his classmates know they’re on stolen land.
Miari speaks unaccented Hebrew; his teachers and friends call him Avraham. Later, he transfers to a nearby Palestinian-Arabic school, and there he commemorates Independence Day rather differently, as the Nakba, or Catastrophe. His teachers and friends call him Ibrahim.
Such episodes illustrate not just Miari’s duelling cultural obligations, but the difficulties he will face reconciling them — after all, we never see him in an environment where both are equally embraced. (It should be noted we are given his mother’s perspective only too rarely.)
Miari toggles easily, impressively, between his life’s principal characters. Props are only occasionally employed. His eyebrows do much of the heavy lifting: they furrow, and Miari is transformed, no longer a wide-eyed, adolescent Avraham/Ibrahim, but his gloomy father.
At a Canadian summer camp for peace activists, Miari, now an adult, meets and swiftly falls for a Jewish-American woman, Sarah Goldberg — they get engaged, but finding a wedding officiant open to a hybrid ceremony proves difficult. Even a Buddhist cleric (Sarah is a so-called BuJew) turns the couple down. Miari, who has a tendency to over-explain, laments that he’s “not Jewish enough, not Muslim enough, not even Buddhist enough!”
The play’s other set piece is from later in Miari’s life, an airport encounter-turned-interrogation with an El Al security agent suspicious of Miari’s overstuffed suitcase — which he’s borrowed from Sarah. Narrowing his eyes at the suitcase’s name label, the agent says, “You don’t look like a Sarah, and you definitely don’t look like a Goldberg.”
The idea that the agent is an oaf and a bigot is plausible enough, but he’s so much a caricature that the seriousness of Miari’s point, that he’s forever suspended between Arab and Israeli, neither one thing nor the other, gets muddled. Miari gives Sarah’s mother the same treatment: meeting him for the first time, she provides little more than a whistlestop tour of stereotypes of elderly Jewish-American women. It’s grim to watch.
Both characters exemplify In Between’s biggest shortcoming: its lack of subtlety. Sure, it’s a funny play — Miari is a gifted physical comic — but the hijinks don’t really illuminate the challenges of Miari’s Arab-Jewish identity; mostly, they’re a distraction. (Case in point: Miari’s scene partner, when he searches for a wedding officiant, is an eight-foot puppet dressed as an Orthodox Rabbi, which Miari ventriloquizes.)
In short, there’s a poignancy deficit, which is made all the more stark by the play’s standout moment. Near the end, Miari talks directly to the audience about his grandmothers, one Jewish, the other Palestinian, both of whom have passed away. They lived barely five miles from each other, but never met. “I’m sad they won’t see my wedding,” Miari says, “or meet their grandchildren.” He sits glumly on a chair, looking like a lost child. It’s sad and tender, a welcome moment of introspection in an otherwise helter-skelter production.
In Between concludes on an upbeat note, Miari informing the audience that he and Sarah were married in a cross-cultural, officiant-less wedding. Marriage — love — has quieted his existential turmoil, he tells us. He has at last found the belonging he’s coveted for decades.
It’s a sweet message but solipsistic — not least with today’s Middle East as a backdrop. I found it hard to believe Miari’s marriage meant he could forget his decades-long struggle over his split identity, especially when that happy union, at least in the play’s telling, did not address this issue so much as ignore it. Still, it’s an ending in keeping with the play’s broader tone — heavy on humor and shtick, lighter altogether on substance.
The post His mother is Israeli, his father is Palestinian. His life? Complicated. appeared first on The Forward.
