From Post-War Poland to Jerusalem

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!