Act II begins

Once again, Shabbat in Ukraine has proven itself to be an interesting experience, to say the least. The synagogue we attended this morning was about a 30 minute walk from our hotel, and mostly uphill. When we got there, we walked through the large metal fence around the few buildings, and proceeded to what looked like the main entrance. A Ukrainian man (whom we later learned was the synagogue's guard) stopped us and said something in Ukrainian. Of course, we didn't understand, and my dad said, "Maybe Yiddish?" Well, that was the password--he showed us to where services were being held. Unlike last week, when most of the men read the newspaper instead of following along with the prayers, at this synagogue, it looked like most people knew what they were doing. Again, though, a Rabbi lead the whole service and read from the Torah (pausing often for what seemed like short "intermissions" to catch up on the exact pronunciations of the words).

After the service was over, the Rabbi invited us over to his house for lunch, but not before stopping to show us the main hall of the synagogue, different from the one we prayed in. Today, this hall is basically the same as it was when it was first built in the 1920's, complete with a wooden dome and walls covered in detailed paintings of animals, landscapes, and scenes from the Torah. Although the synagogue was restored in recent years, it was largely untouched during the Holocaust, since the Russians, and later the Nazis, and then again the Russians, used the building as a stable and storage area, because of its proximity to the local train station. It was amazing to see such detailed artwork in what was considered not the most beautiful synagogue of the city back in the 30's--so I can only imagine what the other, now destroyed, synagogues looked like.

Sitting in the synagogue's main hall, the Rabbi described for us what is was like to live in Ukraine as an openly observant Jew, and he talked about some of his experiences with antisemitism. Well, on the minute walk from the synagogue to his house, we got a taste of what he probably experiences daily--everyone's heads turned, everyone stared, and one group of drivers even called out from their truck. It definitely felt good to be inside, as opposed to outside, at that point. Inside, we had a tasty lunch served by the Rabbi's wife along with help from six of their 10 children (four study in Yeshivas in America). We made great conversation, and we felt right at home there--it was also good to have a home-cooked meal! It was definitely worth the uphill walk over.

Anyway, tomorrow we depart Lviv to head to Volodymyr-Volynski, the town where my dad's mom, Esther Silberman, was from. After that we'll say goodbye to Ukraine as we cross the Polish border to head to Zamosc, where my dad's dad, Tobias Silberman was from. Next time from Poland!

P.S. My mom talked to Marisia yesterday. She confirmed that Olga Yankevitch was the right Mr. Yankevitch's sister! Meaning, we talked to the sister of the man who brought Mama Manya to Marisia's farm. Cool!