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"Derech Eretz (proper conduct) precedes religion, gender, and race"

אילנה כהנא, הדרכת הורים | אימון אישי
Mar 10

Suddenly, a person wakes up in the morning and decides that they have the authority to determine who is Jewish and who is not. From their high position in society, they spread racist and offensive slogans that incite conflict and division.


My parents immigrated to Israel from the Soviet Union in 1972. A young couple with two sons—a 5-year-old and a 6-month-old baby. Why would a young couple with two small children choose to leave their home, their birthplace, and move to a foreign land with nothing? Because from the day they were born, they were persecuted. They were persecuted because they were Jewish. Because they were identified as Jews everywhere. Because my great-grandfather was burned alive in a synagogue—by antisemites. Because during Passover, they ate matzah in secret. Because in school, they were discriminated against on a racist basis. Because they always had to hide or avoid causing trouble since they were already "on probation."


So, my mother completed her pharmacy studies at university. My father studied chemistry. And one bright day, they decided to take their children, leave everything behind, and start anew in a place where it was allowed to be Jewish—Israel. And here, in 1972, my father found various jobs, and my mother went to an ulpan so she could work in a pharmaceutical warehouse.


My parents are descendants of Holocaust survivors. My maternal grandmother was one of eight siblings—the only one who survived. When they were shot in front of the death pits, she jumped in and escaped at night. That’s what it’s like when you feel persecuted every day because of your religion.


My father worked three different jobs simultaneously.


I was born in 1974, the first sabra in the family. After me, five more siblings were born.


A total of eight siblings. Yes, to a couple who immigrated from the Soviet Union (today it’s called Ukraine). We grew up in a secular home. At home, we spoke Hebrew and also heard Russian, which over the years mixed with Hebrew. It became hard to hear a full sentence in Russian without a few Hebrew words slipping in. During the great immigration wave of the 1990s, my father was the one who helped families integrate into the country. Because that’s my father—a man who helps anyone in need if he can. He accompanied them to official institutions, translated for them, helped them find work, and most importantly, welcomed them warmly and helped them feel at home. My mother worked for over 30 years at the neighborhood pharmacy. Everyone knew the pharmacist with eight children. And my father was called "the Moroccan of the Russians" because how could a Russian have eight children? Russians are supposed to have one child and a dog...


But what we occasionally heard from my father was the frustrating sentence: "There, they called me a derogatory name—'Jew.' In the Jewish state, they call me a derogatory name—'Russian.'" Even today, 47 years after he immigrated to Israel, served in the army during the Yom Kippur War (we are the children of the winter of 1973...), served in the reserves, my brothers had brit milah, bar mitzvahs, bat mitzvahs, and we were married under the chuppah according to the laws of Moses and Israel. We grew up here and studied here in schools with everyone else. We played marbles, spinning tops, hopscotch, jumped rope, sang "In the Land of My Love" and "Chai Chai Chai," and watched the Friday night Arabic movie like everyone else. We celebrated and still celebrate all the Jewish holidays.


In our home, there was no Christmas tree. But we did eat vareniki, pelmeni, pirozhki, borscht, bouillon, zharkoye, kharcho soup, holodets, malai, mamaliga, kletzki, blintzes, vermicelli with stew, vinaigrette salad, and other dishes that only those from the Soviet Union might recognize. And there was also schnitzel and carp for Rosh Hashanah, which swam in the bathtub before reaching the kitchen, gefilte fish, liver pâté, beef tongue, and yes... schnitzel and omelets and more. Over the years, we tasted other flavors at friends’ homes. And when we started cooking, we introduced a variety of dishes from all ethnicities into our kitchen because it was interesting and delicious. And my father, the Russian, or "the Jew from Russia," cooks the tastiest Moroccan fish you’ve ever tasted (so they say—I don’t eat fish) and pickles tomatoes and cucumbers you won’t find on supermarket shelves. And on Friday nights or holidays, you’ll find couscous and matbucha, fried eggplant and moussaka, Persian rice, grilled chicken, and vareniki because the grandchildren won’t give up on Grandma’s vareniki with fried onions.


And my father is a man whose hands are always busy, always ready to lend a hand and help. Our home was always open, and we all had friends from every possible ethnic background. It was never an issue. My parents raised us to respect every person as they are. "Each person shall live by their faith." They raised us to be good people, to obey the law, to serve the country, to have a strong work ethic, and to be the best version of ourselves in this world. "Derech Eretz precedes Torah."


One day, when I was about 10 or 11, I came home from school, and on the street stood an older man shouting. Innocently, I asked what had happened and if I could help. He looked at me and yelled, "Yes, yes, you, stinking Ashkenazim, all of you!" I went home and told my father. Then I asked, "What are Ashkenazim?" My father explained. We had never heard about Ashkenazim and Sephardim at home. We were all Jewish Israelis.


My children don’t deal with sectors or origins. In my home, we raise our children, above all, to be the best version of themselves. To respect themselves and others. My parents have 16 grandchildren, all of mixed heritage. A true melting pot. Yemenite, Persian, Romanian, Moroccan, Polish, Hungarian, and more... All Israelis, sabras, Jews. They are the next generation. They are the beautiful Land of Israel. Because they are growing up in a home that respects, appreciates, and values the journey their ancestors took to be a free people in our land, the Land of Zion and Jerusalem.


So, to all those making racist and populist statements that only serve to divide, anger, and create rifts:


I, Ilana Kahana, daughter of Eliezer and Dorit Kiperman, who immigrated from the Soviet Union in 1972, want to share this post to say that I am proud to be the daughter of people who worked all their lives, provided for us, cared for us, and raised me and my siblings with a strong work ethic, patience, tolerance, generosity, and respect for others.


I wish them health and long life, and may they continue to bring pride to the State of Israel.



 

Thank you for reading!I invite you to stay connected and join our community:

See you in the next post! 🌟

Ilana Cahana


 

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