Pesach in the Balkans as appeared in Hamodia magazine

Pesach in the Balkans

By Debbie Shapiro

Last erev Pesach, when Rabbi Yoel Kaplan, Chief Rabbi of Albania, and a rabbi in Thessaloniki (also known as Salonika), Greece, traveled throughout the Balkans to promote awareness of the upcoming holiday, he was both shocked at the rampant ignorance and awed at the incredible desire for growth that he encountered among the Jews who, at the sight of his black hat and beard, flocked to identify themselves as members of the tribe.

Rabbi Kaplan was appalled at their general lack of knowledge: "Why yes, of course we make a Seder each year," one man assured him. "We prepare a special sandwich from bread and lettuce, and eat it in memory G-d bringing the Jewish Nation out of Egypt."

"Of course we eat kosher," explained another Jew. "I always salt the meat, just the way my grandmother taught me. But why can't I purchase the meat at the local butcher shop?"

"Last year while visiting Tirana, the capital of Albania," Rabbi Kaplan relates, "I met a Jew from Los Angeles who had been living there for over thirty years. He had become involved with Jews for J, and was so estranged from Yiddishkeit that he had the gall to almost insist that he show me around his church! Of course I refused, and told him that he ought to be ashamed of himself. After that, I began teaching him the basic tenets of Judaism, starting with learning how to recite the Shema. Today, just one year later, this former member of a church is shomer Torah and mitzvos and eagerly preparing for our upcoming Seder!"

A BIT OF HISTORY

Located in Northern Greece, the port of Thessaloniki serves the entire Southeastern Europe, and is Greece's second major city. Although there has been a known Jewish presence in the city since the time of the destruction of the Beis Hamikdosh, our holy Temple -- the Jewish cemetery destroyed by the Nazis contained graves that were 2000 years old! –the Jewish community swelled tremendously in 1492 with the influx of refugees from the Spanish Inquisition, so much so that they nicknamed the city La Madre de Israel, A Mother in Israel. The Sefardi immigrants thrived.  Up until the late 1800s, the majority of the city's residents were Jewish, and, out of respect for the Jewish workers, the city's port was officially closed on Shabbos. Today, some 1,200 Jews live in the city, and almost all consider themselves Orthodox. "When I arrived here three years ago," says Rabbi Kaplan, "I discovered a thriving Jewish community, with several minyanim each day and a small day school. The community's rabbi, Rav Eliyahu Shitrit, is doing a tremendous job with the kehillah, and I work together with him to strengthen the Jewish community."

The Republic of Albania is located just north of Greece, just 45 miles across the Strait of Otronto from Italy. Although there has been a continual Jewish presence from the seventh century, the Jewish community there has always been small. Prior to World War II, there were only one hundred and sixty Jews in the entire country, mostly in the city of Tirana. To its eternal credit, Albania not only protected its Jews, it also offered shelter to Jewish refugees from Serbia, Austria and Greece, so that by the end of the War, its Jewish population had swelled to over two thousand.

During the country's sixty years of Communist rule, however, religion was banned, and Albania was declared the world's first atheist state. With the fall of Communism in 1992, most of the country's 2000 Jews left for Israel. Although officially some one hundred and sixty Jews presently reside in Albania, this number only includes those Jews who are affiliated with the Jewish community, and the real numbers are probably much higher.

The majority of Jews residing in South-Eastern Europe, in Northern Greece, Albania, Kosovo, Macedonia and Montenegro – what's often referred to as the Balkan bloc – are Sefardi. Although Rabbi Kaplan follows minhag Chabad, his wife is the daughter of the well-known Sefardi  rav and kabbalist, Rav Moshe Ben Tov, ztz"l, and Rabbi Kaplan is a close student and has rabbinical ordination from Israel's Sefardi Chief Rabbi, Rav Shlomo Amar, shlita.

PESACH IN THE BALKANS

After close to a year of commuting between his home in Beer Sheba, Israel, and Thessaloniki, in Northern Greece, in March, 2009, Rabbi Kaplan, his wife, Rabbanit Ruth, and their five small children moved to a rented apartment in downtown Thessaloniki and immediately started preparing for the upcoming Pesach. Although he assumed that he'd receive requests for shmura matzos and other Pesach provisions from the Jews of Thessaloniki, he was surprised to receive requests from Jews throughout the Balkans, especially from the city of Pristina, Kosovo and Tirana, Albania, and immediately set out with a driver to distribute the supplies. That year, the Sedorim were hosted in their apartment. The turnout was startling: twenty four guests for the first Seder and twelve for the second.

By Pesach of 2010 community Sedorim were conducted in the cities of Pristina and Tirana, and, of course, in Thessaloniki, Greece.  In addition, Pesach supplies and instructions for conducting the Seder were distributed to outlying areas throughout the Balkans.

Rabbi Kaplan: "I discovered the Jews of Albania when I was visiting Tirana, Albania's capitol, and noticed a jewelry store with the Hebrew word "tzoref" (goldsmith) inscribed on its sign. Of course I entered the store and introduced myself. The owner, Shalom, was thrilled to make the acquaintance another Jew, and introduced me to the city's small Jewish community. The following Pesach I conducted the Sedorim there, there were some fifty Jews in attendance. We were all so emotional; this was the first time since World War II that a public Seder was being held in the entire region, and, considering that Albania prided itself in being an atheistic republic, it was probably the first real, kosher Seder held there in over fifty years!

"In Thessaloniki, we kashered a hotel kitchen, and my wife, Ruth, oversaw the preparation of the food for over one hundred and fifty guests. She taught the chefs to prepare the Moroccan delicacies that she had grown up with, but now they were all made without any matzah meal as we do not eat anything cooked with matzos. 

"As word of mouth spread about the Seder, we had a lot of last minute requests, and suddenly realized that we didn't have enough dishes. Erev Pesach I ended up running around town purchasing an additional forty eight sets of dishes, cutlery and glassware suitable to be used at a five-star hotel! Thank G-d the mashgiach was there to supervise the kitchen while I was out!

"This coming Pesach, we expect the numbers to swell to over four hundred. Although that includes a large number of tourists – as a result of the political situation in Turkey, Thessaloniki has become a popular Israeli tourist attraction -- the majority are locals. Many of the participants from last year's Sedorim have continued to strengthen their observance of Torah and mitzvos.

"Last year we ordered our matzo from Eretz Yisrael, both those used at the Sedorim as well as for distribution throughout the Balkans, but for some reason they never arrived. A week before Yom Tov, a yeshivah student made a special trip from Eretz Yisrael to bring them to us, so in addition to more than a few tense moments, we ended up paying a lot of money for overweight luggage! Our other supplies were imported from France."

FINDING DIAMONDS

Although Thessaloniki has a strong Jewish community, there are also many assimilated Jews who are completely oblivious to the beauty of their illustrious heritage.  Rabbi Kaplan devotes himself to discovering these hidden Jews, and reminisces about one of his first encounters in Thessaloniki: "Every time one local bully met me in the street, he'd make snide anti-Semitic remarks and publicly taunt me. But even after he and a group of his friends threatened to harm me, I continued to respond calmly, and even managed a smile. One time I even gave him my card and suggested that we meet sometime to 'have a beer.'

"The phone call came on erev Shavuos¸ when I was busy helping my wife bake challis and cook for the many guests that would join us for the two-day Yom Tov immediately followed by a Shabbos. 'Rabbi,' he began, 'I'm downstairs. I need to speak with you. Can I come up now?' Of course we warmly welcomed him despite the balagan. It didn't take long for him to tell me his deep, dark secret: his mother was Jewish. As a small child, the neighbors hid her from the Nazis, sparing her from the fate of her family and of 90% of the city's Jews.  She eventually married a local man and raised her children as non-Jews.

"This former bully now puts on Tefillin regularly, is slowly growing in his observance, and joins us almost every Friday night for the Shabbos meal. He's not exactly your typical baal teshuvah – he's a professional boxer and a real tough guy – but he's a Yid, with a real Yiddishe neshamah, and it's our privilege have had a part in bringing him close to Torah.”

CHIEF RABBI OF ALBANIA

In December, 2010, Albania's Prime Minister appointed Rabbi Kaplan as the country's first chief rabbi, an act that is especially meaningful in light of the fact that for the last fifty years, the country's official religion was atheism.

The ceremony crowning Rabbi Kaplan as Albania's official chief rabbi was held in Tirana's new Moshe Rabbeinu synagogue (named in memory of Rabbi Kaplan's father-in-law, Rabbi Moshe Ben Tov) and was attended by the Roshon L'Tzion, Israel's Chief Sefardi Rabbi, Rav Shlomo Amar, shlita.

Rabbi Kaplan's appointment gave the official stamp of approval to his frequent visits to Albania, and other Balkan Jewish communities. "Before my position became official, I was coming here about once a week to work in outreach, and will continue to do so. The only difference is that now I have official backing." In addition to influencing individual families, he has instituted Jewish classes for over sixty children learning in public schools, and is planning to open a kosher restaurant in the near future.

So what began as outreach for Pesach has blossomed into a spiritual mission to reconnect a part of Klal Yisrael that might have otherwise been lost to us. May the day come soon that all of the lost throughout the world Jews return to their heritage, and may it be a harbinger of our final redemption, may it happen speedily, in our days, amen.

Kosher Cooking Goes Gourmet/ published in Hamodia

Kosher Cooking Goes Gourmet

By Debbie Shapiro

Sunday afternoon, I jumped into a waiting cab and drove halfway across Jerusalem to the Talpiot industrial zone, where I was to meet Chef Yochanan Lambiase, founder of the Jerusalem Culinary Institute, the only English speaking Kosher L'Mehadrin cooking school in the world.

For Chef Lambiase, cooking is a family tradition "We're originally from southern Italy. My father, grandfather, and great-grandfather were all chefs at elegant hotels in Italy, so gourmet cooking has always been a natural part of my life."

In 1985, Lambiase began training at the Westminster Hotel School in his native England. After three years, Lambiase trained with Paul Bocuse, a renowned French chef in Lille, and then continued on to on to work at the Ritz and Savoy hotels.

@Going Kosher

When London's Schaverein Kosher Caterers invited him to cook for them, he discovered an entirely new world. "I was always peppering the mashgiach with questions. It was a real challenge to come up with new recipes while keeping to the laws of kashrus. One day, the mashgiach asked me if I was Jewish, and when I replied in the affirmative, he arranged for me to spend Shabbos with a frum family. It was my very first Shabbos."

I couldn't help but ask what gourmet specialty the family prepared in his honor. After all, professional chefs must have high culinary standards. But the family did not go out of their way to make anything unusual. "It was a typical Shabbos, you know, gefilte fish, chicken soup, boiled chicken, chulent. It wasn't about the food. I was completely bowled over by the atmosphere. A family sitting together, totally tuned into each other, the songs, the words of Torah, it was absolutely amazing!" Before long, Lambiase was on a plane to Eretz Yisrael, where he divided his day between learning in a yeshivah and working as a hotel chef.

In 2002, Lambiase attended Kosher-Fest, an international kosher trade show held at the Meadowlands Convention Center in Secaucus, N.J. Lambiase was overawed by the thousands of new kosher products on the market, as well as the enormity of the industry. "Restaurants, convenience foods, gourmet ingredients, there is so much available for the kosher consumer – you can even go on a safari and shoot rhinoceros while enjoying Glatt kosher cuisine! The kosher market is increasing by leaps and bounds. Twenty-five years ago, it was a 250 million dollar business; today, it's 165 BILLION, and who knows how big it will be in another five years. In such a rapidly growing market, I realized that there must be a real need for professionally trained kosher cooks."

Lambiase continues, "Today, with such a huge variety of kosher products on the market, it's possible to prepare any cuisine for the kosher gourmet – from Korean, to Italian and French or whatever. I can make sausage that tastes exactly like pepperoni, which is a totally non-kosher salami, or, using coconut milk, chicken stroganoff (a cream covered chicken dish) that tastes just like the 'real thing.'

"Some time ago, when a secular Israeli food magazine visited our school to write an article about gourmet kosher cooking, I served them a specially prepared meal of Veal Scallopini (veal with parmesan cheese and pasta) substituting brewer's yeast for the cheese, and wild mushrooms in cream sauce, substituting coconut milk for the milk. These professional food critics could not tell the difference between the kosher version and what they were used to!"

@The Jerusalem Culinary Institute

In 2003, Lambiase opened the Jerusalem Culinary Institute in Jerusalem's now defunct Holy Land Hotel. The ten-month course, taught completely in English, attracted twenty-eight students, from North America, England, South Africa, Australia and, of course Israel. The students ranged in age from eighteen to fifty-three. Recently, the school moved to new premises on

Yad Harutzim Street

in Talpiot, just minutes away from the expansive Hadar Shopping Mall.

Under the hashgacha of Agudat Yisrael, JCI's curriculum is similar to that of any other cooking school. The students learn the proper use of a knife, how to fillet a fish, to prepare puff-pastry, to discern a superlative wine, and so on. "Most of our students are religious, and those that aren't are familiar with the laws of kashrus, so we don't really have to lecture to them on the basics of running a kosher kitchen," explains Greta Ostrovitz, JCI's principal, former owner of the prize-winning restaurant, Chez Gita, and an excellent cook to boot. "Instead, we integrate halachah into the classroom — we teach the students all about worms in fish and checking vegetables for bugs as a hands-on activity, part of their regular curriculum."

The students are also taken on field trips to visit the various marketplaces (shuks) around the country so that they can get a feel of the local ingredients, to a winery and to a goat farm, where they make cheese and watch a natural cooking demonstration. "This is our students' year in Israel, so we want them to see the country, but of course we always make sure that the trip is related to the culinary arts," Ostrovitz continues.

@Rainbow of Students

In the seven years of the schools existence, some three hundred students have graduated the professional seven month intensive chef course. Many have gone on to work in the kosher food industry.

Ostrovitz explains, "Almost all our students taking the intensive seven month course are in Israel for the specific purpose of studying at our school, and plan to return home at the end of the year with a professional skill -– and a recognized diploma -- that will enable them to secure a position in the food industry.

"Working in the food industry is not a traditionally accepted profession among most Jews. The quintessential Yiddishe mother dreams of 'my son the rabbi,’ or 'my son the doctor,' rather than 'my son the pastry chef.' But there is a real need for high level professional chefs, and some of our students continue on to become one. But not all our students are as talented, and some find positions working in industrial kitchens. The main thing is that are able to find jobs!"

Ostrovitz continues, "Since cooking does not require high academic skills, some of our students who have learning disabilities and were never successful in school, were successful here! We had one young man who failed everything – he never even graduated high school – yet he became a phenomenal cook. There was another young man from New York whose mother sent him here in the hope that we could help him with his behavioral problems. I must admit I didn’t think it would work out – he was very disruptive for the other students. But Chef Lambiase said I should persevere, and he gradually improved. He never became a top chef, but he and his mother were very proud of what he’d achieved and he left here in a much better state than when he got here. It's wonderful to watch these young people blossom with each success!"

Ostrovitz shows me one of the many letters of gratitude received by the school:

Seven years ago my husband and I sat in the principal's office at a school for children with learning disabilities and heard my son's teacher say "I cannot find anything good about your son - there is nothing he can do".  We both sat there totally frozen - to be traumatized and riddled with that sentence for years to come.

Today, seven years later, we sent our son off to culinary school for his final exam and heard from the staff that he got an A plus and he was receiving his graduation certificate.

When we heard about the JCI, we took a long gulp before suggesting it to him. He was petrified at the thought of having to study and do tests, but excited by the practical side of it. However, what we knew about the JCI was that they BELIEVED in their students and did everything they could to help them. And we believed that our son could do it. We believed it for him until today when he believed it for himself. It was not easy to be in an educational environment with strict rules and uniform. But he did it. He needed constant encouragement throughout and the most amazing staff at the JCI gave this to him. And what's more, all the way along they told us, "He can do it."

And they were right. He DID it! Without one educational qualification in the world. He DID it! Without finishing school He DID it! They saw - not only his soul, but also all and every good thing about him - and they worked on it and encouraged it and gave him back his dignity and knowledge that he COULD do something.

Ostrovitz recalls another challenging student – a recovering substance abuser. "He was clean from his issues, but his life was a mess. The discipline of our school, together with the satisfaction of success did wonders for him, and today he's happily employed in the kosher food industry."

Cooking is Serious Business

Actually, JCI sees cooking as very serious business. When I asked about funny mistakes, I was told that "mistakes are never funny. Accidentally using the wrong ingredient can be disastrous in a restaurant!" And the students are not only encouraged – they are required – to use their imagination to create something new. "After they've been studying here for some time, we give them an assortment of different ingredients and tell them to come up with something good! We've had some amazing surprises!"    

In addition to their intensive seven month course, JCI runs an eight week program and an assortment of ninety minute workshops. At the workshops, students from ages eighteen to eighty ("there was one guy in his seventies who came to all our workshops!”) are taught anything from the art of preparing risotto (creamy Italian rice) to making mezze (a selection of small dishes served in the Middle East as dinner or lunch), gnocchi (thick, soft dumplings), Tagine (a Moroccan stew) and, for the busy housewife short on time, thirty-minute gourmet suppers.

After speaking with Lambiase and Ostrovitz in the office, Lambiase took me on a tour of the premises. The walls are lined with long shelves containing boxes of spices and other ingredients. I noticed several wooden mortars and pestles. "We always grind our own spices so that they will be fresh. It makes a real difference in the final product."  In the milchig kitchen, there were two French-speaking young women taking a French pastry course with Chef Simone Zemour, owner of Café Simone in Jerusalem. We laughed at my feeble attempts to say something – anything – in French, as I observed the students expertly roll out the dough and fill it with layers of grilled vegetables smothered with creamy mushroom sauce and yellow cheese. Although the aroma was heavenly, I was fleishig, and couldn't even manage a taste!

Pulled Sugar

Just before continuing my tour, Chef Simone pointed at what appeared to be exquisite blown glass sculptures. Lambiose explained that these beautiful pieces of art were actually constructed of pulled sugar, and that they are used as centerpieces in buffets or to decorate wedding cakes.

Later on that day I spoke with pastry chef, Chef Guy Frenkel, head of JCI's Patisserie program. Chef Frenkel studied in France's prestigious Serandi and Lentore pastry schools. "I always loved to bake," he explained. "My late father was an excellent chef and as long as I can remember we were always involved with gourmet cooking and quality ingredients. After completing my studies in France, I returned home to Florida where I opened a French bakery shop."

It takes tremendous skill to sculpt pulled sugar centerpieces, which is why Chef Frenkel saves it for the end of the course. "After the sugar is completely melted, we pour it onto a cold surface and start pulling it to make it shiny and pliable. Even though we wear gloves, fingers sometimes get burnt. People with sensitive skin can't take the heat, which is one of the reasons few people are able to work with it."

Chef Frenkel is one of those "few people." In 1994 he won first championship in the United States Sugar Art Competition held in Palm Beach, Florida. "I created a full scale peacock. It was six feet tall, very detailed, and replete with a brilliantly colored tail. The pulled-sugar peacock was surrounded by pulled sugar orchids and other flora. It took me two full weeks – a hundred and twenty hours! – to complete it, and it contained some fifty kilos of sugar."

Chef Frenkel also enjoys chocolate sculpting. When I asked him how he manages to constantly work with such delicacies without succumbing to overeating, he responded, "My teachers in France always said never trust a skinny chef."

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A few tips from Chef Lambiase

1. Taste your food at all stages of the recipe. This will let you understand the flavors as they develop and enable you to season the food correctly.

2. Clean as your work – cook clean and you will eat clean.

3. Add a few drops of water when you are frying onions. This will soften them and bring out the sugars that will caramelize your onions more quickly.

4. Collect all your ingredients, pots, pans and utensils before you begin cooking.

END OF TEXT BOX

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One Pot Meals 

These one pot meals are especially good in the winter. I always recommend making a big pot of soup and then freezing it in individual servings or, if you'll want to heat up several servings at a time, a plastic freezer container. It is nice to come home to after a cold, raining day and pop the soup in the microwave for a hot, homemade, healthy meal.  If you don't have a microwave, you can just take the container out of the freezer in the morning and it will be defrosted by the time you get home from work in the evening. It takes just minutes to heat it up in a saucepan.  Add bread and salad for a complete dinner. 

These recipes can easily be doubled or even tripled.

Meatball Minestrone

Serves two

5 ounces (150 gram) lean ground beef

2 tbsp fine dry bread crumbs

1 egg – use enough egg to bind the beef and bread crumbs

1 tsp vegetable oil

1 tbsp margarine

½ cup potatoes, peeled and diced

½ cup carrots, peeled and sliced

¼ cup celery, sliced

¼ cup zucchini, diced

¼ cup onion, diced

1 small clove garlic, crushed

1 tsp dried oregano

4 whole ripe tomatoes, chopped

½ envelope beef bouillon

1/3 cup soup pasta or cooked rice

1 cup frozen spinach, thawed and drained

½ cup cooked kidney beans

1. In a large bowl, combine ground beef, bread crumbs, egg, salt and pepper. Using hands or wooden spoon, blend well. Shape mixture into tiny meatballs.

2. In a large saucepan over med high heat, heat oil, add meatballs, cook until well browned on all sides. Using slotted spoon, remove meatballs to a plate.

3. To the drippings in the sauce pot, add margarine and melt over medium high heat.

Add potatoes, carrots, celery, zucchini, onion, garlic and oregano. Cook 8-10 minutes, stirring frequently until the vegetables are crisp-tender and golden.

4. Add tomatoes with their liquid, bouillon, pasta and 1 cup water. Bring to a boil.

Reduce heat to med low, simmer, covered 10 minutes until vegetables are tender and flavors are blended.

5. Add spinach, kidney beans and meatballs, cook about 3 mines longer until heated through.

Black Bean and Chickpea Chili

Serves two

1 teaspoon olive Oil

2 tbsp onion, chopped

4 tbsp green peppers, seeded and chopped

1 medium carrot, peeled and sliced into rounds

1 tsp chili powder

½ tsp ground cumin

Salt and black pepper to taste

4 whole ripe tomatoes, diced

1 ounce frozen corn

½ cup canned black beans, drained and rinsed

½ cup canned chickpeas, drained and rinsed

4 tablespoons chicken stock

1. Place the onion, green peppers and carrots into the saucepan and cook and stir for about 10 minutes, until the onion is translucent and the vegetables are tender. Stir in the chili powder, cumin and black pepper and pour in the diced tomatoes, corn, black beans, chickpeas and chicken stock. Bring the mixture to a boil.

2. Place about 1 ½ cups of the chili mixture into a food processor and puree for about 1 minute until smooth. Pour the puree back into the rest of the chili to thicken. Adjust seasonings.

End TEXT BOX

The Ultimate Plot -- OU.org

March 16, 2011
The Ultimate Plot
By Debbie Shapiro

The Megillah is the ultimate Great Plot. Really. It has all the ingredients of The Good Novel – suspense, treachery, and the intervention of a Hidden Hand -- never mentioned, but always felt, behind the curtain, pulling the puppet strings.

Imagine the Jews of Shushan as they watched the political situation grow more and more precarious, until their Queen, their beloved Esther – one of them -- turns her back on her people and invites Haman to join her and the King for an intimate dinner party. And then, when the King offers her anything, up to half of his kingdom, as a token of his tremendous love, instead of begging for the lives of her fellow-Jews lives, she invites the king to come the following day for another dinner party, together with her nation's arch-enemy, Haman.

Had I been there, in Sushan, I would have been beyond fury. How dare she? Our nation had suffered so much. Just two generations before the Purim story, we were living in our own land, serving the Almighty in the Bais Hamikdash, connecting intimately with Hashem. Then, with the destruction of the Temple, we were exiled to Babel, and, to add insult to injury, with the collapse of the Babylonian empire, we were exiled to Persia. Koresh raised our hopes up his plans to construct a Second Temple, but Acheshverush nixed it, and it would take another generation until Darius, Esther and Achashverush's son, would allow Jews who had settled in Israel under Ezra to build the Second Temple. Meanwhile, Achershverush had set in motion is plan to annihilate – to destroy, to kill, and to obliterate – all the Jews throughout the 127 kingdoms of his rule. And instead of using her powerful position to help her people, Esther was enjoying herself at a dinner party with the enemy! What a traitor!

Things couldn't appear worse. But, in truth, things couldn't be better. And as we all know, our perspective became topsy-turvy, and the day that was started out as a day of tragedy, turned into Purim, a day of tremendous rejoicing.

The truth is, we don't know nuttin'. With our myopic vision, what appears to be tragic is often the key to our salvation.

Several years ago, I heard Rabbi Neugershal tell the story of how two Czechoslovakian Jews succeeded in escaping Auschwitz. Among the first Jews deported to the camps, they had important positions in the camp offices, positions that provided them with access to documents containing statistics of the murders that were taking place.

Their escape plan was ingenious in its simplicity. In addition to the two main camps, the Birkenau- Auschwitz complex consisted of several smaller satellite camps. Each camp was surrounded by two heavily guarded electrified fences, while the enormous complex was surrounded by a lightly guarded fence. In case of an attempted escape, however, the outer fence was heavily manned and for three days an intensive search took place within the fenced in area. If, after three days, the escaped prisoners were not found, the search was called off and the fence was left unmanned.

The camp underground smuggled the two Czechoslovakian Jews out of the main camp by hiding them in a hollowed out space beneath a pile of logs, which were delivered to an area outside the camp, and inside the third, lightly guarded fence. The moment their escape was discovered, the Nazis began an all-out search, using specially trained dogs and thousands of soldiers to comb the area. But the men had managed to get hold of some kerosene, and spread it around the area to confuse the dogs.

On the third day, just before the search was about to be called off, two soldiers approached the pile of lumber where the Jews were hiding. "Maybe they're hiding under those planks," said one.

"Impossible," replied the other. "The dogs were here, and they didn't find them."

"Perhaps they used some chemical to confuse the dogs," said the first soldier.

With that, the two soldiers started removing the planks that were concealing the two Jews. They removed the top ten layers of planks. There was only one layer of planks separating them from the prisoners – only one thin layer of planks between the two men and the German soldiers.

The two Jews lay in their hiding place, shaking in fear. The worst had happened. They knew that torture, humiliation and death awaited them.

Suddenly, from afar, they heard the sound of people yelling and of dogs barking. "Sounds like they found the escapees," said one of the soldiers. And with that, the two soldiers ran off.

The two Jews shook in relief.

Several hours later they heard the "All clear" sirens. Three days had gone by, and the search was off. As soon as it was dark, they would push the lumber off of their hiding place, climb out and slide under the fence separating them from freedom.

But they were so weak from the three days of fasting that they were incapable of pushing the lumber off of their hiding place! They tried - oh, and how they tried! – but they didn't have the strength to move the planks. They were sure that their refuge would become their grave. Finally, after several hours of concerted effort, they managed to move the planks a few inches and crawl out from under the lumber.

Rabbi Neugershal pointed out that when the German soldiers were removing the planks, the escapees were positive that the end had come. They viewed it as a terrible tragedy. Only later did they realize that without the two German soldiers, they would have remained buried alive in the stack of lumber! The two German soldiers were Hashem's tool for bringing about their freedom!

It was only later, in twenty-twenty hind-vision, that the Jews of Shushan realized that Esther's apparent treason was, in reality, the key to their salvation. In our own private lives, as well as in our national, collective life, we cannot begin to fathom the full impact of the events around us. Apparent tragedy is often our redemption. Someday, we will realize that these keys were nothing more than Hashem's tools to make our dream into a reality.

May all those dream be realized quickly, and in our days. Amen.

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A Sthbborn People as appeared in OU.org

March 02, 2011
A Stubborn People
By Debbie Shapiro

It was a cold, icy night, raining, as the saying goes, cats and dogs. Until that morning, the Jerusalem weather had been warm and spring like, and no one, including myself was really prepared for this sudden downpour. Just a few hours before, there had been vague hints of spring, but they had not materialized.

It was an ordinary winter night in Jerusalem.

I had stopped in to visit my married daughter, and was now waiting at the bus stop, huddled under a store awning in a vain attempt to find protection from the elements.

Without warning, the buses stopped coming and the normally busy street became suddenly empty. There were several police cars parked in Kikkar Shabbos and I could see soldiers patrolling the street.

My first reaction was that there must be a car bomb, or perhaps warning of a pending terrorist attack. But then I heard music coming from a distance, and saw that people were beginning to congregate in the square.

After making a few inquiries, I found out that the streets had been closed in honor of the crowds returning home from Binyanei Ha’uma, the Jerusalem Conference Hall, where thousands had attended the Siyum Hashas.

I was soaking wet and shivering in the chilly Jerusalem weather – and very upset that I had missed the last bus before the street was closed.
Then, it happened, almost instantaneously. Within minutes, the Kikkar was full of endless circles of people dancing. Up and down the streets, as far as I could see were Jews with long peyos, Jews with long hair, Jews without peyos, Jews with hats, Jews without hats, Jews in Army raincoats, Chassidic Jews, Litvishe Jews, Jews from the settlements, Jews from Meah Shearim, arms clasped around each others shoulders, some balancing umbrellas, dancing – twirling, jumping - in the pouring rain.

I felt the tears came to my eyes; tears of awe. I was reminded of an event that happened during the Gulf War, over 14 years ago, when I was in the hospital. Due to the emergency situation, there was a nightly audio visual presentation in the room that I shared with another four women. The nurses and mobile patients would congregate in our room to watch the special news report.

That Shabbat we had raced to our sealed room several times and everyone was, of course, anxious to hear the news report. The camera focused on the remains of a four story apartment building in Ramat Gan, just outside of Bnei Brak, and in a voice laden with emotion, the reporter told how everyone in the building had left – one to take a walk, another to visit a friend - minutes before the missile landed. Now the residents were returning to make havdalla in the remnants of their homes.

The room was silent. Everyone’s eyes were glued to the screen. I noticed the Arab patient in the bed next to me unobtrusively leave the room, silently closing the door behind her. We listened to the broadcasted havdalla and answered ‘amen.’ At the conclusion, the bracha, “she’aseh li nes b’makom zeh,” “Who has made a miracle for me at this place,” was recited. And then, in the shadow of what had once been their homes, the men burst out singing “Am Yisrael Chai” and began to dance. By the eerie light of high powered projectors, they rejoiced in the survival of the Jewish nation.

The women in the room began singing along with the television set. There was not a dry eye. I felt as if I was watching the story of our people and was reminded of a song that we had sung as children: “Who can retell the things that befell us? Who can count them?” But yet, despite everything that had befallen them, these survivors of Sadam’s missiles were rejoicing because Am Yisrael Chai, the Jewish nations lives!

I started keeping kosher and Shabbos in the late ‘60’s, when I was a sophomore in high school. My father was, understandably, upset that his daughter had chosen such a different lifestyle. “In another thirty years,” he forecast, “no one will keep kosher. The old people are dying out and their children are not religious.”

My father could have never predicted the tremendous rebirth of Torah Judaism that we are witnessing today. He had always taught us that “Jews are a stubborn people,” yet he never realized exactly where their stubbornness lay. Hitler did not succeed, Sadam Hussein did not succeed, and the Palestinians will not succeed in destroying our nation’s stubborn adherence to Torah.

Watching the dancing in Kikkar Shabbos, I realized that my father’s predictions and the predictions of so many others of his generation had been proven wrong. Am Yisrael Chai! The Jewish Nations lives! Who would have imagined, just forty years ago, that hundreds of thousands of Jews throughout the world would gather together to rejoice in their study of Torah? Instead of vanishing from the universe, we are still here, alive and thriving. What greater miracle is there than the existence of our people?

I was so moved by the events of the evening that upon returning home, rather than collapsing into bed, I sat, wet clothes and all, to write my thoughts. As my father always said, “Jews are a stubborn people,” and, thank God, I am a Jew and yes, I am stubborn.

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The Jews of Johannesburg as appeared in Jewish Lifestyle Magazine

The Jews of Johannesburg

A look at one of the largest Jewish communities south of the equator

Debbie Shapiro 

South Africa: the name evokes different reactions in different people. Many frum Jews think of South Africa as dangerous, frightening, even life-threatening. But other people, especially former South African residents, will tell you of the beauty of their native home, the comfortable living conditions, and the attractive, well-appointed homes. What is South Africa really like? Is it a hotbed of violence, as we have been led to believe, or is it a wealthy, upscale country where frum Jews are free to live and work as Jews?

As frum Jews, we are often most concerned with the success of the frum community in any given land. The genteel, refined products of this country give us a good indication of the level of Torah education in this area of the world. Is the frum community still thriving in this exotic country, even with the exodus of so many of its members?

A Study in Contrasts

South Africa is one of the most beautiful countries in the world, blessed with thousands of miles of coastline and a plethora of natural resources, including gold, chromium, coal, iron ore, manganese, nickel, phosphates, uranium, gem diamonds, platinum, copper, salt, and natural gas.

It’s is a country of stark contrasts: black and white, Mercedes cars and donkey wagons, lavish marble palaces and leaky tin sheds. It is the proverbial snake in paradise. While white citizens comprise less than ten percent of the population, for decades they have held the position of “baas,” firmly in control of the country’s wealth.

When Rabbi Yossy and Rebbetzin Rochel Goldman arrived in South Africa from Brooklyn in 1976, locals described the situation as “sitting on a volcano.” Planeloads of doctors and engineers, butchers and bakers, were fleeing for the United States, Australia, England, and New Zealand, desperate to make their escape before the big eruption.

Now the day of reckoning has come and gone. White citizen rule has been replaced by a more tolerant regime that allows free movement of blacks to the cities, where lack of work unfortunately drives thousands to theft and murder. The major problem facing Jews now is how to survive the violence.

“Everyone knew that there had to be changes; the ratio of blacks to whites is twelve to one — but no one knew how the changes would affect them,” Rebbetzin Rochel Goldman explains. “Today, many of those who fled in fear twenty years ago are coming back. South Africa is an incredibly beautiful country. The standard of living is high; many homes boast a private swimming pool, and most families have at least one maid. It’s a wonderful place to call home.”

Perhaps — but less so when you have to surround your home with barbed wire and electrified fencing.

Jews of Many Stripes

Out of a population of close to 50 million people, there are now only about 70,000 Jews left in South Africa (the remnants of 120,000 Jews during the ’70s), a minuscule 0.02 percent of the general population (Jo’burg, as Johannesburg is nicknamed, has about 66,000 Jews). The rest have fled. The majority of that 0.02 percent is of Lithuanian descent.

“Due to the community’s predominant Lithuanian makeup, Sephardim and Chassidim were few and far between when I was growing up,” Avraham B. recalls. “Forty years ago, my first sighting of a chassidishe Yid with a long beard and coat almost knocked me over — especially as he was accompanied by a little boy. It struck me as strange that this regular-looking kid would one day grow into such an unusual-looking personage.”

Unfortunately, Jewish education was neglected for many years.

Mrs. Mary Kropman, a long-time resident of Johannesburg, describes how the city’s Jews finally began building up a Jewish educational system:

“The first Jewish elementary school that survived, King David, was established in 1948, followed by a high school in 1955. Today, King David Day School is one of the largest Jewish day schools in the world.”

Unfortunately, King David is noted more for its academic excellence than for its standards of religious education. In the ’70s, for example, the school had a compulsory morning minyan which incorporated everything from Adon Olam to Aleinu. However, there was no mechitzah; boys sat in the back and girls in the front.

“One day the chief rabbi was invited for Shacharis, and you can imagine his shock at this state of affairs,” Avraham B. says. “Unable to get a mechitzah set up, he at least organized that from now on the boys would sit in the front and the girls in the back.”

The Yeshivah College was a step in the right direction.

“In the mid-1950s,” Mrs. Kropman relates, “Rabbi Michel Kosovsky, a European talmid chacham who had fled to South Africa during the Holocaust, and Rabbi Yosef Bronner, a graduate of Yeshivas Rabbi Chaim Berlin who had settled in South Africa after the war, founded Yeshiva College, which for the last forty years has been headed by Rabbi Avraham Tanzer, a graduate of Telshe Yeshiva in Cleveland.”

Nowadays, the Modern Orthodox community that has grown around Yeshivah College is probably the largest kehillah in Jo’burg. Up to a thousand people daven in the kehillah on Shabbos, at four or five different minyanim.

Another firmly committed frum community in Jo’burg is the kehillah created by the German Jews who fled Nazi Germany in the 1930s.

“When I first walked into Adass during the mid-70s,” Avraham B. says, “one of the first things I noticed was a portrait of Rav Shimshon Rephael Hirsch hanging prominently on the wall. He was the shul’s guiding light. Founded in 1936 by German-Jewish immigrants who were dissatisfied with local shul, Kehillas Adass Yeshurun was a true Torah Im Derech Eretz community in Johannesburg and the frummest shul in town.”

Until the 1990s, Adass Yeshurun was located in the Yeoville (jokingly known as “Jewville”) section of Johannesburg, which in its heyday boasted eight synagogues, two Orthodox day schools, bookstores, kosher bakeries, and restaurants, as well as a beis din.

“Unfortunately, the yekke children were leaving, and with them went the kehillah’s lifeblood,” Avraham B. explains. “The day of doom came during the ’90s, when non-yekke members complained that they were tired of the yekke minhag of reciting long Yotzros on select Shabbosos. This was put to the vote, and the anti-Yotzros faction won.

“After the black takeover, black South Africans began moving into Yeoville (under Apartheid almost no blacks were allowed to live in Johannesburg proper), and the Jews fled to wealthier suburbs such as Glenhazel, Fairmount, and Gardens. Adass Yeshurun reestablished itself in Glenhazel, but in name only — today, there are only two surviving yekke families in the whole city!”

The original head of Adass Yeshurun, Rav Yaakov Salzer, was a talmid chacham widely recognized as one of South Africa’s foremost halachic authorities. His son, Rav Yosi Salzer, now heads the new Adass in Glenhazel. Adass Yeshurun succeeded in creating an oasis in the spiritual desert of South Africa, planting the seeds for the flowering of the baal teshuvah movement several decades later.

Riding the Teshuvah Wave

Another pivotal event of Johannesburg’s Torah development was the arrival of the world-class Gaon Rav Moshe Sternbuch, shlita, presently head of Jerusalem’s Eida HaChareidis, whose monumental Teshuvos VeHanhagos responsa is based largely on sheilos he received while leading the Torah Center shul in Yeoville. There was also a kollel opened by Rav Tzvi Lieberman, who, like Rav Salzer, was an alumna of the Pressburg Yeshivah in Europe. In 1975, Rav Lieberman decided that what South Africa needed was a kollel, and he opened one with six members.

“The kollel was opened just in time to catch the wave of the growing teshuvah movement,” Avraham B. says. “During the famous Monday night sessions, cars lined both sides of its Observatory Avenue location, and hundreds squeezed inside to slake their thirst for Torah.”

Johannesburg’s teshuvah process was eased by the fact that South Africa is perhaps unique in having almost no Reform or Conservative Jews.

“Most Jews in my day were perfectly happy to attend Friday night services at an Orthodox synagogue, followed perhaps by a Shabbos meal, buy their meat at an Orthodox butcher, and feel that they were in perfect alignment with a hazy tradition stretching back to some mountain called Sinai,” Avraham B. relates.

Why are Jo’burg’s Jews so accepting of the “rigors” of Orthodoxy? Because it accommodates them, explains Rav S. Suchard, a dayan in the Johannesburg beis din. 

“The Orthodox shuls take in everyone,” he says. “In Eretz Yisrael only frum people go to shul, but in South Africa you can be non–shomer Shabbos and still go to an Orthodox shul. In the U.S. a non–shomer Shabbos would be a second-class citizen, but here people want to belong to an Orthodox synagogue even if they are not Orthodox, so we don’t drive them to Reform.”

Rabbi Yossy Goldman, now rav of the huge Sydenam Shul, which features a professional chazan and a choir, talks about the impact of the baal teshuvah movement on the area’s mainstream Orthodox shuls:

“Over the years, many, many individuals and families have changed their lives, embracing a fully committed Jewish lifestyle. Many wonderful people in my own congregation who became shomrei Shabbos joined different shuls within walking distance of their homes. I consider these losses to be my greatest successes.

“The baal teshuvah movement is so successful here that almost every family has at least one member who has become frum. On the whole, there is a healthy respect between baalei teshuvah and their families. In the past, I was often called upon to counsel families where a son or daughter’s newfound Yiddishkeit was perceived to be the cause of family rift. Today, baruch Hashem, I rarely have to do this, as it’s become acceptable to have a family member become frum.

“This is precisely the reason I accepted the invitation to serve as senior rabbi at Johannesburg’s largest shul. Since the city’s beis din manages kashrus, giyur, gittin, and more, the congregational rabbi is afforded much more time to devote to education and inspiration — or, as I like to call it, the ‘marketing’ of Judaism as opposed to the ‘management.’

“Here in Johannesburg, all the rabbis of mainstream synagogues such as mine are into kiruv. The number of shomrei Shabbos is steadily increasing. Back in 1976, a shomer Shabbos was considered by many to be meshuga frum. Today, the term is used with respect and admiration for people who were prepared to change their lifestyle for principles.”

Despite its kehillos of all types, Jo’burg Jewry is united under one beis din.

“We are very fortunate because there is only one beis din and only one kashrus agency,” says Rav Suchard. “Even those who want to be more mehadrin are under the wings of the beis din. We incorporate them; we don’t fight, and we use the same facilities. The beis din is open to people who, for example, want to keep yashan, issuing notices of what is yashan and what is not.”

A Bleak Future

The way things are going, the Jewish community might well be on its way to extinction — about 1,800 South African Jews still leave for Israel, Australia, Canada, and the States every year. Although forty families recently returned, this was more than counterbalanced by two planeloads of Jews who left for Israel. This exodus is due not only to lack of livelihood, but even more to black violence.

“Crime is our single biggest problem,” admits Rav Goldman. “Fifteen years ago, when my wife was coming home from grocery shopping, a carjacker jumped into her van and pointed a gun at her, demanding the keys. Our youngest child, then two years old, was belted into the car seat in the back. Rochel, who has the incredible ability to remain calm no matter what, quietly told the criminal that she would give him the keys as soon as she took her baby out of the car. But the carjacker was nervous and pulled the trigger. Thank G-d, the gun failed, and the criminal fled. We are eternally grateful to Hashem for this miracle.

“But life carries on, and we manage. Every Shabbos and Yom Tov I walk home at night through a park, and, baruch Hashem, I’ve never had an incident. Although crime is definitely a serious problem, it’s not nearly as bad as people overseas imagine, and visitors to South Africa are pleasantly surprised.”

In the face of police inability to handle the situation, the Glenhazel-area Jews took the law into their own hands.

“South Africa’s chief rabbi, Rabbi Dr. Warren Goldstein, established the Community Active Protection (CAP) to combat crime in the major Jewish neighborhoods of Johannesburg,” says Mrs. Mary Kropman. “This includes a high-tech control room which monitors surveillance cameras and handles all crime-related calls. Armed guards patrol the streets in tactical vehicles or are on duty at specific stations. During the Jewish holidays, CAP increases its patrols, enabling the frum community to walk the streets freely.

“Sometime ago, my granddaughter and I arrived at her home and found it being ransacked. We immediately alerted CAP. They arrived within minutes, whereas it took the local police two hours to get there.”

Will this stopgap measure propel Johannesburg’s kehillos into a magnificent future, ad bias goel tzidkeinu? Only time will tell.

Side bar

The History of South African Jewry

The first minyan ever held in South Africa took place on Yom Kippur 5602/1841, when seventeen Cape Town Jews joined forces in a local home. The first bar mitzvah was eight years later, the bar mitzvah boy’s bris having been performed just a year earlier since until then there was no one in the country qualified to do the job.

Jews poured into the country between 1880 and 1910, with nearly 36,000 Lithuanian Jews fleeing pogroms and persecution landing on South Africa’s shores and prospering.

“Touching our coreligionists of Cape Town,” a local Jew wrote in 5651/1891, “our noble selves may be described as consisting of two classes, those who attend shul and those who don’t. There are three sections amongst us; the highest are the big shopkeepers, the second are the small shopkeepers, and the lowest — well, we have no lowest. The conditions of life are eminently comfortable, and existence is not a very difficult problem with the majority…

“It is only due to write that the slights and heart-burnings the poor labor under in other places are almost unknown here. Practical men, skilled artisans and the like would not make any sacrifice in coming to these shores. ‘Golden South Africa’ will be something more than a mere phrase.”

Pull quotes

“The baal teshuvah movement is so successful here that almost every family has at least one member who has become frum.

“When my wife was coming home from grocery shopping, a carjacker jumped into her van and pointed a gun at her, demanding the keys. Our youngest child, then two years old, was belted into the car seat in the back.”