Russian club thrives socially but struggles financially

The Russians wore red. The Americans wore blue.

Last spring’s “Cold War Cup” pitted Jews against Jews in a friendly and comical soccer tournament, an activity of the San Francisco Hillel Russian Club.

And the American response to the Russian victory?

“The Americans say, ‘next time we’ll play football,’” jokes Genna Mikityansky, the director of the club.

But playing such games is uncertain, at least under the aegis of Hillel programming.

According to San Francisco Hillel director Seth Brysk, the club — which he says is the only one of its kind at any Hillel in the United States — is facing a financially unstable future.

Founded six years ago, the club was a response to the needs of Russian emigre students in Northern California.

“For the first time, they were coming to us and seeking this out for themselves,” says Brysk. “They were saying, ‘I want my Jewish identity.’ We felt that we could not turn away from that.”

Now, some travel from as far away as Davis and Santa Cruz to attend club events. Approximately 500 students participate in Russian Club programming each year.

Despite the popularity of the programming, according to Brysk, for the first time in six years fund-raising projections are not being met. He fears that Hillel may not be able to keep the Russian Club as a full-time program.

“It has never been the case that we’ve had to consider downsizing the program because of financial constraints,” he says. “The demand is still there.”

The club, Brysk added, has provided a safe place to explore Judaism for the many students who were unable to practice the religion in their native countries.

“We wanted to create an environment that would be more comfortable for them,” explains Brysk. “It would be done in such a way that would help them to learn things about the holiday that other students would learn as young children.”

But the Russian Club strives to be about more than religious integration.

On June 1, 2001, 21 people, many of whom were emigres from the former Soviet Union, were killed when a suicide bomber attacked a nightclub in Tel Aviv. The Russian Club responded by writing and performing a play entitled “Dolphinarium,” after the name of the discotheque. The performance drew hundreds of people, and even letters of gratitude from the victims’ families in Israel where a tape of the play had been viewed.

The experience, explains Brysk, was powerful for many people in the Russian emigre community.

“Some of these families checked a box and made a last-minute decision at an airport to come to the U.S. or Israel,” he says. “The students felt that this is a story that we are going to tell because it is important to us.”

Among many activities, the club competes nationally in the trivia game “What? Where? When?” (“Chto? Gde? Kogda?” in Russian) and sponsors an annual trip for participants to visit native towns in the former Soviet Union.

Half the club’s $50,000 programming budget is supported by a large gift from the S.F.-based Jewish Community Federation, which is expected to continue. Grants and individuals provide the remaining funds.

“The number and size of gifts from individuals in the community have shrunk,” explains Brysk. “It has been increasingly difficult to find funds from foundations.”

Brysk could only speculate on the reasons why giving is down.

“There are a number of other worthy causes that have demanded the attention of the community, for example the tsunami efforts and capital campaigns that have gone on in the Jewish community,” he reflects. “We partner with some of these agencies.”

According to Brysk, the future of the club is not about programming, which he calls “solid,” but simply “comes down to dollars and cents.”