We are living in amazing times. Jews who have been scattered to the ends of the earth are returning home after 2,000 years of exile, and each one has a story. I want to share with you the story of an amazing young woman I met in Modiin, a neighbor of our daughter Penina Abramowitz. It shows that no matter how far away a Jew is, there is a spark, a Yiddishe neshama that can ignite a desire to return, both physically and emotionally to the Jewish people.
Naomi Schwed was
born in Warsaw, Poland in 1987. She started our interview by telling me that
her grandmother was born in Uzbekistan. No, she was not a Bucharian Jew. During
the First World War, Naomi’s great grandparents ran from Galicia deep into
Russia and settled in Tashkent. Early on, they realized that being Jewish was
not something to talk about. Naomi’s grandparents knew very little about
Judaism and kept a few practices out of habit. For instance, her grandmother
did not mix meat and milk, but they did not observe any holidays.
At the end
of World War II, Polish Jews were allowed to leave the Soviet Union, and Naomi’s
grandparents moved back to Poland, to Chelm, with their son. In 1951, another
child was born, who would become Naomi’s mother. Naomi remembers playing in the
ruins of the war as a child; their Jewish origin was never discussed.” Her
mother received no Jewish education whatsoever and never identified openly as a
Jew. “My mother knew not to ask about their past. They were survivors who lived
in fear, maybe paranoid.” Naomi remembers,
as a little girl, seeing two large paintings, one of Jesus and one of Mary in
their house. They were not Christians, but they didn’t want anyone to know they
were Jews.
In 1968,
there was political unrest in Poland, and Polish anti-Semitism came to the
fore. Jews were basically expelled from Poland. Naomi’s mother was 17 at the
time. Many of her friends, people who knew nothing and kept nothing, were no
longer welcome in Poland, and they didn’t understand why. She regretted not
leaving in 1968 as she was now stuck in Poland. These Jewish young people were
called “children of 1968.” They felt 100% Polish and did not identify one bit
with anything Jewish, but that did not help them.
Naomi’s mother left
her parents’ home and went to the Catholic University of Lublin. This was an
open-minded school. It attracted the intelligentsia and a higher class of
people, Naomi says. In those days, the Catholic Church was at the forefront of
opposition to Communism. Her mother met a non-Jewish Pole at college, and they wanted
to get married. His parents strongly opposed his marrying a Jew. No matter how
you hid it, the Poles could tell. They were not married in a church, but only
had a civil marriage. “I do not know if my mother was baptized,” says Naomi, “but
I was.” My brother is 18 years older than me. He looked very Jewish; he was
sickly and had bad eyesight and a big nose. My Catholic grandmother never even
held him. She was repulsed by his Jewish look. I was the opposite. She always
loved me because I looked Polish. We were culturally Catholic but never went to
church.
“I grew up in
Warsaw,” Naomi continues. “My father died when I was very young and did not
play a role in my life. I was different from my family, I yearned for
spirituality and meaning in life. From an early age, I went to Church every
Sunday, by myself. I did not know that I was a Jew. I was studious and I knew
about the Holocaust. I assumed that there were no Jews in Poland at all.
“When I was
12, my brother was getting involved in a secular way with the Jews who met for
social activities in the one remaining synagogue, the Nozyk Shul. One
Christmas, my brother invited me to a party. It was for Chanukah. I asked my
mother why was he taking me to a Jewish party, and she told me for the first
time in my life, ‘because we are Jews.’ I was Catholic; I had no idea what
Jewish meant. My hair was blond, my nose was straight. How could I be Jewish?
“For a year or
two, I went to shul on Saturday and church on Sunday, I struggled a lot; it
didn’t feel right. I really believed in Jesus and yearned for spirituality. I
was well read, even as a teenager, and read the Bible. It occurred to me that
the Jews kept what was written in the Bible more than the Catholics. I decided
that Judaism was the true faith and committed myself to being a Jew, whatever
that meant.
“I was unusual
because the other people were more my brother’s age, much older than me. They
were not necessarily interested in keeping mitzvos, but I was. If I am a Jew,
then I want to be a Jew all the way. Rabbi Michael Schudrich, the one rabbi in
Poland, gave me the keys to his office. He told me that I did not have to take
the bus to shul any longer. I was welcome to sleep in his office. There were meals
at the shul, and I became shomeres
Shabbos, even though I knew next to nothing. A few other young people were
getting involved as well, but no one was as observant as I was.
“Eventually, the
Lauder Foundation brought a Chabad rabbi and his wife to Poland. The Lauder
Foundation sponsored a summer camp for Jews, not just youth but any age. It was
the only place and time where Polish Jews could practice openly and learn about
Judaism. I counted the days until camp; it was my safe place. I was 14 at the
time.
“Eventually, I
became very close to the Chabad rabbi and his wife. I wanted to go to a Jewish
school. I would go to an internet cafe and look for any Jewish school that
would accept me. Several wrote back that they would like to help but did not
have a program for me. I was Polish, not Hungarian and not Russian. I don’t
speak those languages, and there was no program for Polish speakers. Rebbetzin Sharon
Kanefsky, the Chabad shelucha, was
from Toronto. She suggested that I seek a school in Canada. We do learn English
in Polish public schools from fourth grade on. I wrote to schools all over the
world, and only one school wrote back and said, ‘We are more than happy to have
you come. We will figure something out.’ Rabbi Aisenstark, the head of the Bais
Yaakov D’Rav Hirshsprung, invited me to come to Montreal. I never met Rabbi
Hirshsprung but I wish I had. I heard that he spoke Polish.
“I came to
Montreal when I was 16. I knew very little and could barely read alef bais. I was welcomed. I lived with
a family who treated me like a member of the family. Rabbi Aisenstark created a
class for five girls from a variety of Eastern European countries, but we were
taught in English. I want to say how wise they were. They gave us a teacher who
let us ask any questions; they had patience and showed us love. Bais Yaakov was
a safe place for us.
“I was in Montreal
for four years, the last two years of high school and seminary. I graduated
from their seminary in 2004. But as much as I loved the people in Montreal, I
wanted to see other schools and find my own place on the spectrum. Someone
suggested that I attend Neveh Yerushlayim in Israel. I was only there for about
six months because of a suggested shidduch.
A young man took me out, and although we were not for each other, he told me
that he knew the perfect shidduch for
me: his friend Gabe, who had spent several years in a Chabad school in Israel
but was living and working in New York at the time.
“Gabe and I became
Facebook friends. Although we were both going out with others, we started
talking on the phone. We had never met but we felt very attracted to one
another. Summer came. I was planning to go back to Poland to visit my mom. Gabe
said that he would come to Poland. I told him that it was a better idea that I
come to New York. I knew girls in New York from my seminary. I bought a ticket
for a seven-day visit. We met, and three days later we were engaged.”
Gabe Schwed is a baal teshuva
from Los Angeles. At the time, he was enrolled in Touro College. He had a great
job and led a good life. We went to the Rebbe’s Ohel, and we were married at 770 in Crown Heights. We both wanted
the same future, and it felt right from the start. We both wanted to return to
Israel. From the time I set foot in Eretz Yisrael, I wanted to live only there.
But, parnassah intervened. We lived
in Kensington, Brooklyn for five years and had two children.
“Every year we
hoped that it would be the year to return to Israel,” says Naomi. “At some
point, Gabe said we just have to move, and we’ll figure it out when we get
there. He had a good job and his boss valued him. Once he told his boss that he
was going to make aliyah, his boss
allowed him to work remotely. Gabe works for a trucking company in logistics.
They ship major appliances, and he is the only one in the company who works
remotely.
“We made aliyah in 2013. It was kind of scary.
Neither of us spoke Hebrew. We just did it. My mother visits us often. She is
not observant but feels very good about us. My brother, who first introduced me
to the Jewish people lives in Manchester and is very Zionistic but not
observant.
“We have completed
a circle. I always felt like an outsider. I was always made to feel that I was
not really a Pole. I want to be loud and proud. I want my kids to grow up like
those arrogant obnoxious Israelis, who fear no one. Like my fellow Pole,
Mieczslaw Biegun, also known as Menachem Begin. I am not a Jew with trembling
knees.
“We have
three children, Ayala, Dafna, and our son, born in Israel, whom we named
Yisrael Nafshi. I don’t like labels. I m a proud Jew and observe all the
mitzvos. But I don’t want to be pigeonholed. Natan Sharansky has expressed
similar feelings. We are proud to be part of the entire Jewish people. My
husband would love to learn full time. He is always learning. We don’t fit into
any label. We have met incredible people and continue to learn and to grow.”
Naomi’s story blew
me away – a young girl who thought she was a Pole was driven to find her roots
and is now a frum wife and mother.
What a journey!
