“Thank You is Far Too Small a Word!”

What Holocaust survivors in Ukraine would like to say to our readers.
When we travel to Ukraine with our team to visit first and second generation Holocaust survivors, we often wonder, How can we ease the indescribable suffering they experienced? The inconceivable atrocities of the Nazi era, embedded in the Stalinist persecution before and after the war, the loneliness of their old age, right up to the horrors of the current war? But just like He once asked Moses, God is asking us the simple question today: “What is in your hand?” Thanks to our loyal supporters, we always have something in our hands—a food parcel, a bouquet of flowers, a hot water bottle. And with these simple things, the Father’s love connects and brings healing to the wounded souls of the survivors. With the following brief reports, we would like to share with our praying and donating supporters some of the many miracles of the heart reflected in the survivors’ words of gratitude.

“God is asking us the simple question today: “What is in your hand?”

We have barely entered the room when a stream of thankful words starts flowing from Mery’s lips. “What an honour that you’ve come to visit me! So much attention for me! How did I deserve this? God grant you good health!”

Mery lives in Kremenchug. She has seen a lot—she has been on this earth since 1928. “First the great famine in Ukraine, then the flood in Kremenchug, then the war and the flight, and then the great earthquake when we lived in Ashkhabad.”

Mery’s grandmother was very religious and observed all of the Jewish holidays. “Grandfather didn’t come with us when we left,” says Mery. “The Nazis tied him to a horse and dragged him through the village. That’s how he died. That’s what people told us when we returned.” Unimaginable childhood memories.

Mery’s Greatest Gift
“After the war, yes, there were Jews in the city who returned. They secretly went into a basement where they met to pray.” And Mery thanks us once again: “Thank you is far too small a word for everything you do for us! Thank you for all the gifts! But my greatest gift is that you came!”

Food for Body and Soul
In Kremenchug, we work with the synagogue congregation to provide needy senior citizens with medication, hot meals and nourishment for their spirit. For Rosh Hashanah, we invited 30 Jewish senior citizens from our programme to the synagogue. We are hosted by the cooks who also prepare the food for the needy. We already know their skills from our previous visits.

We have bought 30 gifts and assume that at least the statistical 10% of those invited won’t come, even more so in this age group. When everyone is seated, there are 33—not 10%, but more! Everyone wants to be there if there is a chance of a reunion. When the music starts, Rabbi Salamon himself takes the microphone and makes everyone sing along with ‘Hava Nagila’.

“I Have Recovered”
Soya is keen to talk to us. “Back then when I was diagnosed with cancer, I had to sell everything I had to afford surgery,” says Soya. “At the time, I thought my life was over. But then you came along. Thanks to you, I’m alive!”

Igor, the rabbi’s assistant, also approaches us. “Do you remember me? I’m the one that Pastor Johannes and his wife Ute prayed for back then. I had just had a serious cancer operation and had little chance of survival. That was many years ago now. I have recovered!”

Words of Hope, Handwritten
Ira is so grateful for the medication, our food parcel and the gifts, but she is most touched by the handwritten card from a supporter in Germany. “Fear not”—the words of Isaiah go straight to her heart.

“I am so moved,” says Ira. “How much we need such words of hope right now, when the siren goes off every day! I’m going to put the card in a visible place so that I can read it every day!”

He is Our Healer, he is Our King
“We used to live in Fălești,” says Mira in Belz, Moldova. “Dad worked as a shoemaker in a village. We were a big family. Then we had to flee, by horse cart, towards Soroca. When we got to the river, not everyone could come with us. I crossed over to the other side with my mom and brother, and dad stayed behind with grandma and a brother. Then we were attacked from the air. We waited another day for them, but they never came…”

Evi, one of our volunteers, puts a red heart into Mira’s hand. ‘You’re someone special’, it says.

“I know God will heal our hearts. He is our healer; He is our King”

“There was a German here last year,” says Mira. “He played the violin for me. He also asked for forgiveness for what happened here. I know God will heal our hearts. He is our healer; He is our King.”

What Still Keeps Nikolai on This Earth
Nikolai, our dear Nikolai… He is already waiting for us at the entrance to his apartment block in Ungheni on the Romanian border. He has lost so much, and our visit means so much to him. When we met him just over a year ago, he was mourning the loss of his wife and only daughter. They had both died of coronavirus within a single week.

Nikolai | Photo: C4I Germany

Nikolai has set up his little camping table in the living room for us again— cake, coffee and strawberry secco to celebrate the day. Yes, he was also in Munich, he explains, back then with his ensemble.

Nikolai used to be a professional musician himself—his instrument was the clarinet. Back then, before Chernobyl. After he was ordered by the authorities to work as a first responder without protective equipment, his career as a musician was over. The fact that he is Jewish and that his grandfather was murdered because of that had been kept a secret by his family for the longest time.

There have been no instruments in Nikolai’s apartment for a long time. Almost all of his friends are gone too. “Some of my students and friends have become well-known musicians in Israel. I no longer have the strength. With my ailing heart, I can barely make it to Kishinov. What still keeps me on this earth is that I have friends like you,” says Nikolai, the voice of this tall, strong man breaking.

Evi puts a red heart she has brought with her in his hand. It’s a hand warmer that says: ‘Be blessed’—so that Nikolai has something to remind him that he is precious and loved.

It All Started With Uman
Despite the bad road, we choose the southern route for our journey back to Vinnitsa. Uman is on the way—one of the first Jewish communities we ever visited and supported.

When we enter the familiar old Soviet apartment, the ladies are carrying plate after plate out of the kitchen—blinchiki (stuffed pancakes), gingerbread cake, fruit and cheese plates, and—not to be forgotten—something to toast with. L’chaim! And Shabbat Shalom—Lyuba just lit the candles.

Galina’s daughter shows a photo of her mother to me. “Do you remember the hand-knitted blanket you brought mom? She’s had it on her knees all winter!”

In the photo gallery below you can view many more photos. Text continues underneath the photos.

“The fact that someone in Germany knows our personal story is beyond my comprehension!”

Someone Knows Our Story
After having delivered the greetings from the sponsors and supporters at home, Dmitri takes the floor. “The fact that someone in Germany knows our personal story… and has our photo with them… and prays for us… this is beyond my comprehension!” Dmitri was born in the Uman ghetto in 1942; his father and mother were left alive by the Nazis as they were considered ‘useful’ as shoemakers.

I Really Want to go There
Sofia also survived the camp with her mother, who had to carry out forced labour under the harshest conditions. “I can hardly walk now; I didn’t leave the house all summer,” Sofia explains. “But when I heard you were coming, I said to my daughter: “I really want to go, no matter what! Somehow I’ll drag myself there with my walking cane! You’ve added precious days to our lives today!”

You Bring us Light and Warmth
“Whenever we hear your name, we feel warm and light in our hearts,” adds Olga. The Olga who survived the executions in a nearby shtetl and was pulled wounded from underneath the dead bodies by two young boys.

“You bring us so much light and warmth in these difficult times! Thank you is far too small a word to express our hearts to you!”

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