As most citizens who lived in the Soviet Union during the late 1980s, I have a powerful association with the word “Chernobyl.” This word describes a nuclear explosion that occurred on April 26, 1986, in Ukraine and affected the lives of millions of people. Thankfully, I grew up in a city called Saratov on the Volga River, deep in Russia and far from the deadly source of radiation. Yet I remember how children were sent out of the danger zone to live with relatives across the entire Soviet territory. As a child, I heard stories of horrific illnesses that resulted from exposure to radiation.
We had many relatives and friends on my father’s side of the family who lived in Ukraine, in a city called Vinnitsa. During the months of July and August, my parents welcomed many guests to our bungalow to spend the summer months away from the contaminated region. The consequences of this accident were horrendous, and everyone wanted to help.
Three decades after my immigration to the United States in 1989, I learned about the impact of the Lubavitcher Rebbe and his response to this crisis. The Rebbe set in motion a plan to create the largest-ever rescue mission of children affected by the accident. More than 3,000 children were saved through the project that came to be known as “Chabad’s Children of Chernobyl.” Under the Rebbe’s directive, the umbrella organization of Chabad in Israel took responsibility for evacuating and resettling rescued children in Israel.
On Aug. 4, 1990, the first airplane carrying 196 Jewish children landed at Ben-Gurion Airport. The effort it took to rescue and aid these children during the post-Soviet era is difficult to fathom. When I learned about this operation, I was hoping to meet a person who was rescued. I made a few inquiries and learned that a young mother in our community and her brother were part of this rescue operation. Perhaps it is by Divine Providence that she had lived in Vinnitsa, the same city where my father was born.
This is what Raya, now Rachel, remembers:
“Growing up as a Jewish child in Ukraine in the 1980s was challenging. Some non-Jewish neighbors called us ‘dirty Jews,’ and I felt that we were different. But it didn’t really register in my young mind who was this ‘Jew’ in me and what that really meant. There was no Shabbat, no Jewish holidays, no kosher food or anything Jewish that I knew about.
“A few months prior to the big political change during the ‘Perestroika’ in the late 1980s, we began to see some Orthodox rabbis arriving in Vinnitsa. These were shluchim sent by the Rebbe. They opened a Sunday school and gathered us for a big meal on Pesach; later in the year, they built a huge Sukkah in our yard. I was mesmerized by how many people were able to fit inside of it. People kept coming and coming. So many ‘lost’ Jews were finally starting to learn about their heritage.
“Just around that time, my parents decided to immigrate to Israel. They shared this information with me and my brother, and I remember how surprised I was to hear of a place called ‘Israel.’ Apparently, this was a country where all the Jewish people lived. I thought to myself, ‘Why did they keep this secret from us?’ ”
“Soon after, my father heard of the Chabad program that was established for children who experienced health problems due to the radiation. My brother suffered asthma attacks, and the doctors suggested a change of climate. My brother and I joined the special program that took children from the greater Chernobyl area and transported them to the beautiful Israeli village called Kfar Chabad. I was 9, and my brother was 8 when we took the long train to Moscow to meet the other children and our chaperons.
“We left right before Chanukah in 1990. It was a cold Russian winter, and it was snowing. We took the bus to see the lightning of the first giant Chanukah menorah in Moscow, organized by Chabad. We were given our own menorahs to light together with our parents and were explained the importance of light hidden in the darkness.
“The next day, we said goodbye to our parents. From that time, we traveled as a group, under the supervision of Chabad shluchim. My brother and I were reassured by our parents that they planned to join us soon. Yet we were so young, and the separation was stressful.
“My brother and I held hands when we walked inside the airplane. When we landed in Israel, we were surprised by the beautiful warm weather. We were dressed warmly for the Russian winter and began to shed layers of clothes upon arrival. In a way, it was like shedding the layers of confinement of the Soviet Union.
“People greeted us at the airport, singing and welcoming us. It was like a dream. Sitting on the bus ride from the airport to Kfar Chabad, I didn’t want to miss a minute of the experience. There were hundreds of orange trees along the way. To this day, orange is my favorite color.
“In Kfar Chabad, we had everything we could possibly need. We had three meals a day. We were enrolled in a school and surrounded by people who genuinely cared for us.
“A few weeks after our arrival, on Jan. 17, 1991, the Gulf War broke out in Israel. We were introduced to Scud missiles, bunkers and gas masks. Our counselors taught us how to put on a gas mask and how to use special Epi-pens in case there was a chemical explosion. My parents were still in Ukraine, and they were very worried about our well-being. Despite the chaos, our Chabad chaperons made us feel protected, and the situation was utilized to teach us about prayer and miracles. We were taught that G‑d sometimes sends complicated events to ask us to pray to Him. All of us prayed together and then on Purim, we learned that the war was over.
“Three months later, my parents finally arrived in Israel. We moved to Bat Yam and later to Afula. Unfortunately, my parents were not familiar with the Jewish traditions. It was a difficult adjustment for them with so many new things: language, country, people and societal norms. Only years later, in the United States, did my brother and I reconnect to our heritage.
“When I light the Chanukah candles, I think of my first little menorah that we lit in Moscow. As I sit in our family Sukkah, I remember everyone being welcomed in that Sukkah in Vinnitsa. And when I celebrate Purim, I re-experience the joy of learning that the Gulf War had ended and another ‘Haman’ was destroyed once again. On Pesach night, when I hear my children sing the ‘Ma Nishtana,’ I recall staying up all night in the warm embrace of a Chabad family who welcomed my brother and me during our time at Kfar Chabad.
“Two decades after my brother and I were taken out of Ukraine, my brother slowly returned to a life of Torah observance. When my husband and I struggled with infertility, my brother guided us. He organized a chuppah ceremony for us at ‘770,’ Chabad headquarters, and inspired us to keep the laws of Shabbat, family purity and kosher. Soon after our transformation, G‑d granted us our first child, and then three more. Thank G‑d, today we raise our family with our Jewish values and faith.”
Rachel’s brother, Zeev, added his own memories of Kfar Chabad: “I was younger than my sister and my memories are not as vivid. My sister and I were separated for most of the week. I lived with the boys, and she lived with the girls. We saw each other every week when we visited families that hosted us for Shabbat. The warm feeling of the Shabbat experience stayed with me for many years.
“I built a special bond with my counselor, Moshe Reuven Asman. Children would earn tickets for the mitzvahs that could later be redeemed for prizes. I earned $80 in mitzvah points but did not have a chance to redeem them for gifts because our parents arrived, and we left the program. The memories of these three months planted a seed that sprouted during my teen years. Even months after departing from Kfar Chabad, I continued to wear a kippah in order to feel that new strong connection to Judaism.
“When I was 15, my sister and I moved to the United States to join our grandmother in Philadelphia. I was enrolled in a Torah Academy and soon was relearning the same concepts that were introduced to me at Kfar Chabad. After two years of exploring my connection to Judaism, I decided to return to Israel and enroll in a yeshivah. I studied at Tomchei Tmimim Yeshiva in Migdal Ha-Emek, under the leadership of Rabbi Goldberg.
“I was so excited to learn Chassidic teachings. It offered joyous spirituality, unconditional love and soulful connection to my heritage. I was so hungry for the knowledge of Judaism and these ideas spoke to my soul.
“I spent four years learning in Israel and afterwards joined the Chabad Yeshiva at 770 Eastern Parkway in Crown Heights. During these years, I gained insight into the most important concepts of my life.
“Soon after, I was introduced to my wife, Esther, who was also influenced by Chabad while finding her own path in a different part of the world. Esther grew up in Brazil, and after we married, we decided to emulate the unconditional kindness we saw along our path of return. Together, we dedicated our lives to working with Russian Jewry in Staten Island. We are both molded by the Rebbe’s teachings and hope to spread the light of unconditional love to every Jew.”
This is the story of two of “Chabad’s Children of Chernobyl” who were not just rescued physically, but were inspired spiritually by their short encounter in Kfar Chabad.
A Child of Chernobyl Recalls Being Taken in By Chabad – Stories of Return