A Life Changing Week
Published on September 22, 2011 by Eric Kaye
Eric Kaye was a participant on the Young Leaders Service Mission to Dnepropetrovsk this summer and is a memeber CJP's YLD Board, as Co-Chair of the YLD Israel Mission for the Summer of 2012. Professionally, he works in development at Dana-Farber Cancer Institute.
As much as I thought I would leave Ukraine without a life-changing experience—that I might miss an opportunity to connect with the community at a special level and that getting my khaki shorts covered with rust-colored paint was all that I would take home—I can, in fact, say that it was truly a life-changing week. I can't put into words all the emotions I feel when I say that I felt at home in Dnepropetrovsk. What I can put into words is that three delegations of young Jews—from Boston, Haifa, and Dnepropetrovsk—came together as one Jewish community during that week. It sounds cliché, but this is exactly why it was so comfortable to call Dnepropetrovsk home. It didn't matter if you grew up orthodox or reform, or how much money you make, we were all Jews and that was more important than any demographic or category we fell into. Maybe it wasn’t "home" in the same sense of what home is for me in Brookline, but it was exactly what we want "home" to be—and more. I know that something changed in my everyday life, because as soon as I returned to Boston I was sharing every story I could about Dnepropetrovsk: the people I met, the Menorah Center, the ERC, painting a door at the boys’ orphanage, going for a run, and everything that made it a life-changing week. As you read on, I hope you see how fortunate I feel to have been a part of all the amazing experiences that unfolded from June 16-24, 2011. We need more people to experience this city and the people there.
The last site we visited in Dnepropetrovsk was the Matzeva Memorial, for victims of the Holocaust. Matzeva is near an old Jewish cemetery and was dedicated in 2009, after a construction project for a supermarket uncovered a mass grave for Jews who were murdered when the Nazis stormed through Ukraine. At Matzeva, we said the Mourners’ Kaddish, took a photo, and had some time to ourselves—but before Matzeva, and before we left to go to the airport, two events took place that will forever be part of who I am as a person, and more importantly, who I am as a Jew.
I didn't buy any gifts when I was in Dnepropetrovsk. I spent money on one cup of coffee, dinner at one restaurant, two taxi rides, and maybe five drinks over the course of a week. As we drove to Matzeva, I wondered what to do with the 215 grivna still left in my wallet. My initial thought was to exchange it for euros on my return trip to Vienna, but I came to the realization that with the exchange rate it wouldn’t be worth it. I talked about this predicament out loud, and Amy suggested I give it to Zelig to put the money in a tzedakh box at the Golden Rose Synagogue. I wasn’t sure if it was acceptable to hand him money from my own pocket and ask him to donate the money to support a person or a project in the Jewish community. However, I realized that if I was wondering what to do with my leftover grivna, then maybe everyone else was thinking the same thing. I decided to ask everyone if they would donate any leftover grivna to Zelig to use wherever he saw the most important need. I didn't get to count the money before I handed it to Zelig, but I saw people put in U.S. dollars, and multiple 50 and 20 grivna. I have to believe that all together we gave about 2,000 grivna ($250). When I presented the money to Zelig, I explained that I am comfortable asking for money because fundraising is my full-time job, but personally it was a very meaningful gesture to do before leaving. I knew, after a week in Dnepropetrovsk, that this money could easily be used for many urgent issues.
On our third day in Dnepropetrovsk, four others from the trip and I
visited a 90-year-old woman who escaped World War II, has no kids, lives in a
decrepit building, has no way of getting out of her apartment, and lives on a
pension of 176 grivna a month. Compared to some of the other elderly in the
Jewish community, this was a generous pension in a country that doesn't provide
government health care. The way I see it, this has to be a small miracle that
she is still alive. In the last two years I have seen my grandparents show signs
of aging. While it can be discouraging, I take comfort in knowing that my
grandparents will have a way of getting around and that I will be only one
member of an entire family who can take care of them as they continue to age. When
Zelig told us that the money collected from the trip would go to help pay for a
medical operation that an elderly person needed, I thought back to my earlier
visit and knew this was the perfect way to end the week in Dnepropetrovsk.
As Zelig walked away, the significance of the trip, combined with
the reality of where we stood and what we accomplished that week, hit me harder
than anything since I lost a family member when I was younger. At that moment,
without any sunglasses to wear, all I could do to hide my tears was turn around
and walk away. After about two minutes and a few deep breaths, I turned back
and as I looked around, Nava was laying flowers that Barnet got for her on
their anniversary on the memorial and Sarah followed by placing stones on the
monument as well. Seeing the incredible gestures from Nava and Sarah made me
turn around to hide the tears again.
As the weeks have passed since we left Dnepropetrovsk and returned home, I’ve reflected on many of the memories I have from the trip. The inspiring seven days I spent in Dnepropetrovsk made me more passionate about my Jewish identity, re-energized my commitment to Boston, and excited me about everything that I know this trip will accomplish. This would not be the case—and I would not continue writing—if it was not explicitly clear that many people also feel the same way about Dnepropetrovsk.
I need to thank everyone from Boston who has ever travelled to Dnepropetrovsk more than once. What I have learned from this group of people, and hope to impart to others, is that Dnepropetrovsk must be a very important place for people to want to go back. To me, this is the ultimate display of commitment—and it is my hope that I return to Dnepropetrovsk in the near future as well. This connection now means so much to me, and I know that it is important to many others as well. So for everyone who ever went to Dnepropetrovsk before me, let me say that because you went, and wanted to bring many more people there, I have been inspired in so many ways. Thank you for showing me how important this city is to thousands of Jews, not only in Ukraine but now also in Boston and Haifa. I look forward to continuing the relationship with the city, strengthening the friendships I’ve made, and continuously sharing many of the stories and memories I have brought home with me.
