Despite hurdles, émigrés find Jewish traditions

A grandmother shuffling in the first hours of the morning to bring home matzah hidden in the folds of her scarf. A man seeking out synagogues in distant towns for a glimpse of rituals he has only heard about.

Many Soviet Jews who came of age before glasnost and perestroika have similar stories. But now they have another avenue to explore their culture and heritage without the fear of arrest, intimidation or ridicule.

On a recent evening, a group of former Soviet émigrés met at the Walnut Creek Jewish Community Center to hear a lecture about Jewish female spirituality. The talk, given by Shternie Kagan of Chabad of Contra Costa, was a part of the Russian Jewish Heritage Series, a program meant to bridge the gap between Soviet Jews and Judaism and foster learning in a safe, welcoming environment.

"When we left the Soviet Union, we all said we were doing it because we were Jewish," said Lila Katz, a program manager for the Jewish Family & Children's Services of the East Bay, which organized the series. "But the truth is that we really didn't have anything Jewish left in us besides the mark on our passports that said we were Jews."

The lecture series, funded by a grant from the Jewish Community Federation of the Greater East Bay, has attracted steady interest from the émigré community as Russian expatriates have flocked to hear discussions of such topics as Kabbalah and the Jewish life cycle.

Anna Kroshner, 25, and her husband, Pavel Kroshner, 32, have been attending the series just "to listen to information we never had access to in Russia." Although the couple met at a Chanukah party in Moscow, Judaism wasn't a part of their lives until recently.

"I didn't know many other Jews and I didn't attend events," said Anna of her childhood. "And if I happened to meet someone who was also Jewish, we'd just sort of say 'Oh, you too?' and move on. We didn't have anything to say to one another."

Educating Soviet-born Jewry about the staples of Judaism is one goal of the program. But making them feel at home — even amid talk about God and the Torah — is equally important.

"American Jews helped resettle Russian immigrants, but did they make you feel welcome?" quipped Alla Dadiomov, 40, a software engineer who emigrated from Belarus in 1989. "Russians went to synagogue with their American friends, but many never felt comfortable. As a result, most are not affiliated with a synagogue today."

Lila Katz attributes the low affiliation rates among Soviet Jewry to the steep cost of membership at area synagogues. She says many immigrants — recent or not — are put off by dues that can exceed $500 a year. Many aligned with Chabad because of its loose policies around membership dues, according to Katz.

"If people can't or don't want to pay, they are still welcome," she said.

Anna Ryabkina, who emigrated from St. Petersburg and spent 10 years editing Russian-language newspaper Vmeste, or Together, does not know why so many Russian Jews feel a disconnect from their American Jewish neighbors. She believes that not enough attention has been given to the needs of Russian Jewish immigrants, leaving many struggling to assimilate into their adopted society.

"I don't know whose fault it is," Ryabkina said. "But I can say that we have tried very, very hard to build that bridge and be a part of the larger Jewish community and it just hasn't happened."

Still, many Russian Jews are finding their own way of being Jewish in America.

Dadiomov is active in the Jewish Federation's Community Institute, which trains leaders in the Jewish community. Anna Kroshner attends Chabad events and has learned more about her roots there than in the last 24 years combined.

After Kagan's lecture, as guests chatted by the table laden with strawberries and zefir, a Russian dessert of meringue and chocolate, Alex Katz reflected on his new life in the United States. He remembers the joy he felt celebrating his first Shabbat, and how the ritual tied him to something he had been craving for so long.

"We had so many chances to lose our Jewishness, but we didn't — not completely," he said. "Many people never opened the door to the synagogue or lit candles on Shabbat. These classes are helping people discover their own heritage after all these years."