Pesach is Still Hard in Russia, but at Least Matzah is Available

For years, Rosa Shulinova and her daughter, Faigie Aminova, celebrated Passover in secret.

They would go to the synagogue on Bolshoi Bronnaya in the center of Moscow, where Jews huddled clandestinely around a small over to bake their own matzah.

Then Rosa and her daughter would hurry home to hold a traditional seder, in secret with curtains drawn.

Those were in the old days. Times have changed since the demise of the authoritarian state which frowned on all religions, but most of all, it seemed, on the Jewish faith.

Celebrating Passover in Moscow is still hard, but for different reasons.

Matzah is readily available, thanks to the generosity of donors in the United States, Canada, Israel, France and Switzerland.

But like everything else, it is in short supply, and getting it to the consumer is a formidable task.

For the second year, the Lubavitch movement is operating a supply network that sends 60 tons of matzah from overseas to central points in 100 cities and towns all over the former Soviet Union, where it is distributed to people by armies of volunteers.

In Moscow, Rabbi Berel Lazar supervises 30 men and women who pick up the matzah at the airport, collect the 10-ruble fee (about 10 cents) and distribute 1 kilo per family.

‘MAKES ME WANT TO CRY FOR JOY’

As Rosa and her daughter waited patiently in line outside the Marina Roscha Synagogue for their 1 kilo, they may have recalled what life was like for Jews here not too long ago, or the stories told by their parents or grandparents about the early days of the Soviet regime.

After the Revolution, all but one synagogue in every major city was shut down. Those allowed to stay open — showplaces of Soviet "tolerance" — were actually run by the Cheka, the secret police that preceded the NKVD and the KGB.

This particular synagogue, opened in defiance of the laws, became a center of Jewish resistance and a target to the KGB. When a mikveh was opened, the KGB tore it down.

Everyone who attended services was reported to the authorities. Not a few who showed their faces in shul disappeared.

Stories abound of worshippers fleeing to the nearby cornfields, where they hid for days.

These days, life has changed.

The Lubavitchers now have a yeshiva, where about 50 students are enrolled, evenly divided between men and women.

They have a Jewish day school with an enrollment of 175 children who are taught Russian, Hebrew and Jewish traditions.

A few waiting in line complained the matzah cost 10 rubles now while last year it was free.

But most rejoiced at merely being able to obtain matzah openly. "Seeing so many Jews together in one place, socializing together, preparing for the holiday together just makes me want to cry for joy," said one.