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A Summer Like No Other The Story of Ukraine’s Camp Shuva
A Summer Like No Other
The Story of Ukraine’s Camp Shuva
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By Pinchos Friedlander
It was a bittersweet occasion. The beautiful and stately building which had once housed the world-renowned Yeshivas Chachmei Lublin, built by the blood, sweat, and tears of its founder Harav Meir Shapiro, zt”l, was coming to life again, after sitting forlornly for over three quarters of a century. Its hallowed halls, quietly attesting to a glory that was lost, were to be filled once more with the sweet sounds of Torah and love of Yiddishkeit, albeit on a temporary basis.
Its soon-to-be inhabitants, however, were far from the place they called home. The sweet, innocent faces of Camp Shuva campers betrayed genuine fear. Just a few months ago, the children lived happy “normal” lives. They enjoyed sports and games, dreaded doing homework, worried about their report cards, fought with their sisters, and looked forward to summer camp. In the past few months, though, the lives they knew have been destroyed, and cold fear has taken up residence in the pits of their stomachs. Many of the children arrived at camp without their fathers, who are not allowed to leave Ukraine. Countless fathers have already been drafted and sent to the brutal front lines. The children didn’t know if they would ever see them again.
The staff, led by 24-year-old Avraham (Avromy) Bleich, had a formidable task in front of them.
How It All Began
The year was 1987. At the time, the Communist government still ruled the USSR with an iron fist. A small group of men from the Stoliner community of Borough Park were on a trip to visit Kiev. Among them was a recently married young man by the name of Yaakov Bleich. Yiddishkeit in Ukraine, like in the rest of USSR, was nearly extinct. There was a grand total of one shul in all of Kiev, known as the Podol synagogue, or the Rosenberg synagogue. On Rosh Hashana, Yom Kippur and Simchas Torah, the shul would house 33,000 people, who would come to shul for the High Holidays. The streets nearby were blocked off for the occasion. However, there was nary a young person to be seen. Due to fear of the government and their agents, the shul was attended by elderly people almost exclusively. They knew if the young generation attended shul, the Communists would close the shul entirely. The old men were fascinated by the group of chassidim, not believing such Jews still existed. They began physically touching them, feeling them, to make sure they were real and not a figment of the imagination.
Yaakov was inspired by the trip and returned again a month later. Not long after, he returned yet a third time. During this third trip, one of the locals pulled at the sleeve of the young Yaakov Bleich and enjoined him to join the community and become their rabbi. They were desperate for young fresh blood, a dynamic leader who could breathe new life into the dried bones of a community withered by the ravages of communism. Yaakov politely declined their offer. Moving from the free United States to communist Ukraine was inconceivable. But as the trip continued, the theme repeated itself. Amazingly, seemingly at random, another man and yet another approached him, singling him out from the others, and begged him to join and lead their community. Yaakov couldn’t ignore the phenomenon and took it as a sign from Heaven. But still, becoming a rabbi under communism was out of the question.
But then, in 1991, Communism fell, and Ukraine became an independent country. Rabbi Bleich realized the time had come. On the advice of the Stoliner Rebbe, he returned once more to Kiev, along with his wife, for three months. Those three months have now turned into 30 years. Rabbi Bleich took on the mammoth task of rebuilding Yiddishkeit in Ukraine, a young man alone. He received government recognition and was appointed chief rabbi.
In the early years, the Bleich family lived in Kiev throughout the year, with many of their children being raised and educated there. Eventually, the family moved back to the U.S., and now Rabbi Bleich and his children shuttle back and forth between the two countries.
In the ensuing years, Rabbi Bleich facilitated the complete rebuilding of the community and a network of support. In the early years, he received financial help from Moshe Reichmann, who did a tremendous amount for Russian and Ukrainian kiruv at that time, and that got Rabbi Bleich off the ground. Recruiting volunteers, they built schools, kosher infrastructure, yeshivos, an orphanage, and shuls. As the community matured, its members assisted in the efforts. Rabbi Bleich’s network of volunteers and supporters grew as well. And a spiritual wasteland began to bloom once more.
The religious community of Rabbi Bleich grew to a few hundred families who were complete members, beside thousands more throughout Ukraine who were impacted. In addition, he raised many protégés who eventually moved out of the country, settling in bigger Jewish centers and raising frum families. Many of his students went on to become rabbis and roshei yeshivos and other prominent members of the Jewish community. At the time that the recent war in Ukraine broke out, there were ten shuls, three different boys schools, a Bais Yaakov, a yeshiva and a kollel and an orphanage for boys and for girls, kosher grocery stores and restaurants, an old-age home, and different community programs for the Jews in Ukraine. Besides for the core community, many more are in the process of joining and coming closer. Over the years, other communities were established throughout Ukraine, including Chabad and Olami/Ner
L’elef. All these communities and organization work together for the good of the Jews in Ukraine.
The Bleich children are very much involved, too. They grew up understanding they were part of a vital mission, and from a very young age, they each took part. Rabbi Bleich’s son Avromy recalls learning with men old enough to be his grandfather, when he was still a young boy. He would involve neighborhood children in various programs, too.
Camp Shuva
Perhaps the crown jewel of Rabbi Bleich’s kiruv empire is his summer camp, Camp Shuva, which includes a boys’ camp, a girls’ camp and then a family camp. Each program runs for three weeks. When the camp first started, Rabbi Bleich led Camp Shuva himself, assisted by volunteers he recruited from the United States. As the Bleich children grew older, they filled in with running the camp. Currently, his son Avromy runs the boys’ camp, and his daughter Hindy runs the girls’ division. Up until the recent war, the camps were situated in scenic Piskivka, outside Kiev, on large, beautiful grounds, surrounded by a forest, with numerous playing fields and amenities. There, lives are transformed. So many children who have previously known little to nothing about Yiddishkeit, never heard of a yarmulka or tzitzis, are exposed to Judaism’s full beauty. Many of them are convinced to switch to religious schools, with the encouragement of the staff. For those who cannot make the switch, the camp staff keeps up with them as best as they can throughout the year. They have a Sunday program, they invite them for Shabbosim and yomim tovim, and send them emails and newsletters to keep the flame of Yiddishkeit alive in their hearts. Many of them eventually do enroll in religious schools full-time.
Rabbi Bleich’s son, Avromy, runs the boys division of Camp Shuva. Avromy tells of a boy who came to camp year after year, who was very proud of his Jewish roots but consistently had zero interest in Torah and mitzvos. Avromy enjoined him to come to the Bleichs for Shabbos, but the boy kept pushing him off. Avromy was persistent, inviting him again and again. Finally, the
boy agreed, just to get Avromy off his back. He came that Shabbos to the Bleich home and loved it. It blew him away. It was the first time in his life he had experienced a real Shabbos. He came back, again and again. This boy used to visit local pubs in Kiev and rap, making some money and building a network of “buddies.” But he began to embrace Judaism and that turned his buddies away. They were not interested in some religious “fanatic.” The boy committed himself fully to Yiddishkeit, becoming, in Avromy’s words, not just frum but “very frum.”
Avromy recently asked the boy if he misses his old life. The boy confided to Avromy that while he used to rap in the bars and pubs, he really felt empty and depressed inside; behind the gaiety and fun, he really felt he had nothing to look forward to. Only since he began keeping Shabbos and kosher does he feel true inner happiness.
Sparks of Yiddishkeit
Rabbi Bleich has had some notable stories involving his “products” over the years. One child who had attended the camp in Ukraine eventually moved to the U.S. in a hick-town far from Jewish life. The boy’s family had little interest in religion, and it seemed all Rabbi Bleich’s efforts with the boy had been for naught. However, the family had one frum neighbor, who happened to invite the boy for a Shabbos meal. That frum family had a custom to bench together with the wellknown “benching song.” To their astonishment, they heard the boy, whom they assumed knew nothing about Yiddishkeit, sing along with the entire song, which he had learned in Camp Shuva! After a bit of probing, the family got the “backstory,” and they soon put the boy back in touch with Rabbi Bleich, who helped him switch over to a Jewish school.
Avromy recalls the boy who was fascinated by computers, but his family was too poor to buy one. Realizing that the boy had a hard time with settling down with learning and davening, Rabbi Bleich offered him as an incentive a computer of his own. In return, the boy had to learn, daven, and put on tefillin for a month.
Excited beyond words, the boy kept his end of the deal faithfully. When Rabbi Bleich handed him his computer as per their deal, the boy’s hands were literally shaking with emotion. Eventually, the boy went on to be one of the founders of PayPal. Sadly, he moved to California and did not remain committed to Torah. He does still fast on Yom
Kippur, though, and keeps up his connection with Rabbi Bleich.
Another boy had been in camp for a few years but was never turned on to anything spiritual. Two years ago, on the last Shabbos of camp, Avromy noticed the boy alone in the camp shul, putting on tefillin. Mystified, Avromy approached the boy and gently asked him what he was up to. Breaking down in tears, the boy explained that his parents are against religion. Before going to camp each year, his parents would exhort him to have a good time but forget all “the religious stuff” which to them was crazy and backwards. Up until now, he was influenced by their pressure but after being surrounded by the intense beauty of Yiddishkeit, he felt he couldn’t anymore. His neshama was calling. Unaware that Shabbos is not a day for tefillin, he simply felt he needed to connect somehow to his Creator. After the summer, Avromy explained to him that although we don’t put on tefillin on Shabbos, Hashem had tremendous pleasure from his tefillin. The boy began to come to shul on Shabbos and yom tov and became active in the community.
In the Shadow of War
With the outbreak of war in Ukraine, the community, and their lives, have been turned upside down. You might think of Ukraine as a backwards country, but, in fact, many areas are pretty Westernized. Ukraine is divided into regions similar to states, known as oblasts, and those oblasts with big cities like Kiev or Odessa are rich and developed. Families that lived there were settled comfortably, earning a respectable living and leading stable lives – not dreaming of the nightmare about to befall their nation. Once the war broke out, they lost everything. Many ran away from the country with a few suitcases and the shirts on their backs. Nothing else. Still, a large portion of Ukrainian men are not allowed to leave the country and rejoin their families; many are fighting on the frontlines. The communities scattered, their members fleeing in all directions. Families simply drove to the border and crossed it, ending up in remote towns in Germany with no home, no friends, and no support.
Rabbi Bleich quickly swung into action, mobilizing practically the entire community, along with the network of support he had built up over the years. It was
all hands on deck. Bus after bus was arranged to transport families to safety. Through this, many families who were previously unaffiliated with Jewish life were now drawn into the community and began developing a connection to Yiddishkeit.
The Jewish community formed into three branches, all overseen by Rabbi Bleich simultaneously. One branch remained in Kiev, diminished but still functioning. Another relocated to the Carpathian Mountains, in Ukraine, but far from the war zone. And the third branch settled in Budapest, Hungary. Many more Ukrainian Jews are still all over the world, though, in Germany, Switzerland, Poland, America, Portugal, Israel, and Australia.
Rabbi Bleich’s first priority was housing. Families were living in dysfunctional situations. Some were in hotel rooms, some simply sleeping in office buildings on mattresses, in random towns in Germany and elsewhere. Rabbi Bleich rented apartments in Budapest for all “his” families, at enormous cost. A shul was set up for the Ukrainian Jews, and the community tried to piece itself together once more.
This effort is ongoing; many families are still scattered, literally around the globe. Their support system took a hit, as they had been relying to an extent on the affluent members of their own community, who now are quite preoccupied saving their own skins and can’t afford what they could in the past. At the same time, costs increased exponentially. An entire community has lost their possessions and their self-sufficiency and need material and financial support, added to the fact that their multiple locations require three sets of infrastructure.
Rabbi Bleich also runs constant events, speeches, trips, and the like to keep the people, especially the children, inspired and preoccupied and to take their minds off their troubles as much as possible. Among other trips, the Bleichs took the children of the community on a tour of Vienna; others were given a trip to Israel. More recently, as the heat of the battle waned somewhat, and shifted away from the Kiev area, some people began moving back. After all, they don’t have much else to fall back on. Avromy spoke to an individual who returned to Kiev from Israel. He explained that in Kiev he had a business, owned an apartment, and had a beautiful life. In Israel, he had no job and no money, he was running from apartment to apart-
ment, and could not get his children into school. An effort was made to restart school in Kiev, but the Ukrainian government (understandably) will not allow a school to reopen without it having an adequate bomb shelter. Finding a building in Kiev which meets the requirement is so far out of reach. But in Dnipro, they are reopening Jewish schools and possibly in Odessa, too. And the yeshiva in Kiev is functioning to a degree, as well. At this time, Avromy estimates that there are three shuls that are currently functioning to some degree, out of the original ten. But people are trying to have hope. They would like to think the war will soon wind down, though, of course, there is no way to really know.
Camp Amidst Chaos
As the summer neared, the Bleichs scrambled to find a new venue to replace the campgrounds back in Ukraine. This year, camp was needed more than ever, to give the children some much needed relief and a spiritual boost to lift them somewhat from their sorry state. Due to the precarious situation, they didn’t know for sure where they will be until about two weeks before camp began. Finally, with few available options, they found the building of the former Yeshiva Chachmei Lublin for the boys’ division, and a location in Dinev, Poland, for the girls.
The building of Chachmei Lublin officially belongs to the Jewish community of Poland but is administered by a non-Jewish company, which runs a hotel there. The Bleichs reached out to the chief rabbi of Poland, who gave them permission and arranged for them to use the historic and nostalgic building for the camp.
Lublin, while not quite New York City, is still a relatively modern city, and the urban atmosphere doesn’t naturally lend itself to a campy kind of feel. Avromy had to quickly put up a soccer field and basketball court behind the building and improvise as much as possible to give the children the best camp experience the circumstances would allow.
And so…the three week summer program was kicked off. On staff, there was a team of therapists, to help the children deal with their anxieties and fears. The counselors realized they needed to exercise extra sensitivity with the children and do their best to uplift them. The children spoke with their fathers via video call and try to keep up hope they will yet meet in person soon. Many boys would cry at night to return to their homes. Since the grounds were not ideal for a camp, this year Avromy arranged for more field trips than usual, as well as simply walking around the area so the campers didn’t feel confined by the small grounds. The campers enjoyed laser tag, paintball, and an amusement park.
This year more than every year, due to all the upheaval, many children who previously had no connection to the Jewish community came to Camp Shuva. The staff hoped to maximize the opportunity to draw them close. The Bleichs worked arduously, and with Hashem’s help, they were able to breathe life into the children’s traumatized souls. Many children will be signing up to join a Jewish school for the first time in their lives.
Avromy recounts an episode of a boy who was far from Yiddishkeit. His father is not Jewish, and though he’s been coming to camp for some time, he has made little progress spiritually. This year, just after the scores of color war were announced, Avromy noticed the boy crying profusely. After the commotion of color war died down, he approached the boy, inquiring whether he was crying because his team had lost color war. The boy explained that it had nothing to do with color war. He was crying because he was trying hard to memorize kriyas Shema, but it wasn’t working. He couldn’t remember the words.
Unfortunately, many of the families who scattered due to the war’s tremors are now in cities and towns with no Jewish schools and are in danger of ending up in local public schools. The Bleichs are working hard to bring them back and arrange for them to join the community school’s new location in Budapest.
At the same time, there is an influx of new people in the community who were inspired by the war to stick together with other Jews and return to their roots. Avromy tell of a woman who had been a camper at Camp Shuva and steady guest at Rabbi Bleich’s table about 20 years ago. At one point, she stopped coming, and the Bleichs lost contact with her. Once the war broke out, she suddenly reconnected with the Bleich family. Her husband was stuck in Ukraine, and she was alone in Budapest, desperate for support. She called the Bleichs crying and yet feeling terrible that it had to come to this for her to return. Rabbi Bleich invited her over to his apartment in Budapest. They made a bar mitzvah for her son, and he too attended the camp this summer. The boy is now due to begin this September in the Jewish school in Budapest.
The Bleichs are also reestablishing an infrastructure in Budapest, including a yeshiva, a kollel, and all the rest, which will probably become permanent.
All of this requires a bank to run. Rabbi Bleich receives support from the Ronald Lauder Foundation, Lazer Scheiner, Ralph Herzka, and other frum donors, as well as the World Jewish Congress and the European Conference of Jewish Rabbis. Still, much more is needed, and the opportunity is open for more people to help inspire the sparks of the neshamos of our fellow brothers and sisters and bring them back to Yiddishkeit.
