"The Bull Charged Toward Me, Everyone Screamed, But I Couldn't Move"

If you meet Hannah Breutman on the street, with her six children in tow, trying to take an urgent call from a kindergarten teacher seeking her consultancy, or responding to a personal coaching client, you'd find it hard to believe this energetic woman didn't grow up in Israel and was estranged from Judaism for much of her life.

To be honest, Hannah's rolling accent is the only clue to her origins. "I've managed to integrate and establish my home here, but I couldn't shake the accent," she says with a smile, as she shares the incredible journey that led her back to Judaism.

Far From Judaism

Hannah was born 38 years ago in Donetsk, Ukraine. "I grew up in a family completely detached from religion and tradition," she recalls. "This wasn't unusual, as nearly all Jewish families around us were like that. My great-grandmother came from a religious family and observed Judaism, but my parents had no connection to it, and I was the fourth generation of this separation."

Were you aware of your Jewish identity?

"Yes, from a young age, I knew I was Jewish, and more than that, I had a direct connection to Hashem. As a child, I wanted to pray, but I didn't know how or to whom.

"I remember convincing my grandmother to buy me a New Testament and a small children's prayer book when I was about seven. From the prayer book, I learned to say *'Shema Yisrael'* in Ukrainian, but I mostly just read the New Testament. Oddly, I was captivated by the biblical stories therein, but anything to do with Christianity felt wrong to me and I couldn't continue reading those parts.

"There was a lot of mixing between Judaism and Christianity in our community. For instance, my grandmother baked matzah on Passover and distributed them wrapped in a white pillowcase among neighbors. We traded the matzah for colored eggs and cakes they made for Easter. We had good relations mainly because they loved my grandmother, known as 'the honest and generous Jew, unlike the others.'"

Did you experience antisemitism?

"The Iron Curtain fell when I was a child, so I don't really remember the pre-fall days. Afterward, there wasn't much overt antisemitism, despite being one of the few Jewish students in school. There were some insults and a dance class exclusion due to my Jewishness, and one teacher constantly asking why we didn't move to Israel, but nothing more serious. I also didn’t have the typical Jewish appearance, which didn't immediately reveal my identity."

However, Hannah recalls a chilling incident vividly: "My grandmother was hospitalized toward the end of her life, needing medicine that wasn't available. My grandfather noticed her roommate possessed it and offered to buy it. The patient inquired about his surname and ethnicity. Once he confirmed he was Jewish, the patient refused, even for double the price. My grandmother died that day, and it's a memory that haunts me."

After the Iron Curtain's fall, most of Hannah’s family moved to Israel. However, she and her immediate family stayed in Ukraine. "Our lives changed entirely," she explains. "Suddenly, religion was openly discussed. Classmates shared various texts, but nothing resonated with me except Judaism. That was my sole interest."

By then, Hannah attended a Sunday school and joined the global 'Ezra' youth movement. "We had counselors who sang and told stories in Hebrew, igniting a deep emotional connection to Judaism and the desire to move to Israel. That year, I was invited to a Jewish summer camp. It was amazing," she recalls excitedly. "It was my first encounter with many young Jews like me, and I wasn’t different but part of a group. It was very impactful."

Afterward, she attended more camps and further embraced Judaism. "To me, Judaism seemed fascinating, colorful, and friendly," she notes. "Yet I wasn't committed. My friends and I attended Christian cult meetings, discussing the New Testament, and eventually prayed through an unnamed intermediary. I couldn't understand why I couldn't pray directly to Hashem."

"One day, after leaving one of those gatherings, a boy asked if I was Jewish, and I affirmed. He pressed, 'What does that mean?' His question struck me hard. At twelve, I realized my Judaism didn't manifest. No Jewish name, no holiday or Shabbat observance. Passover meant matzah alongside leavened bread. I had no Jewish symbol. I’ve never seen that boy again, but his question provoked reflections until now."

The next push toward Judaism came at a summer camp in her third year. "We were in a forest activity, and a bull suddenly charged at me. My friends yelled, 'Run away!' but I froze. My initial thought was, 'Hashem, I promise to keep Shabbat and kosher if the bull spares me!' and instantly, it turned and ran the other way."

"However, I forgot all about it once home," she acknowledges. Months later, when Hannah turned 13, the opportunity truly arose. "On Passover Eve, with grandma gone and no matzah at home, I volunteered to buy some. I went to Chabad with my birth certificate to certify my Jewishness. There, a woman asked if I wanted to study in Jerusalem. Ecstatic, I said 'of course,' and she handed me an ulpana school pamphlet, urging me to tell my parents."

"I returned home, informing my mother about my Jerusalem move and requested she call to confirm my plans."

Did she agree?

"Surprisingly, my mother consented immediately, understanding its importance. This initiated my 'Naale' program selection process, and soon, I received approval to immigrate to Israel."

Did you move alone, without family?

"Indeed, alone, barely knowing Hebrew. The ulpana was advantageous as all peers shared my background, emanating from similar origins and spiritual standings. Together, we advanced in Jewish practice. Post-schooling year, I told my mother I appreciated her but wouldn’t eat her food due to 'kashrut.'"

"My mother adapted uniquely, preparing an entire meal from canned goods on my arrival, foregoing her passion for homemade dishes to host friends. I even invited non-Jewish friends for Shabbat meals. During my stay, I managed house cooking, allowing kosher adherence," reveals Hannah.

Following the break, Hannah returned to Israel for three more educational years. "Each year's end, I'd visit Ukraine, but after the fourth, instead of returning, my mom visited me, then made aliyah herself."

You describe incredible growth from a young age, away from family and community. How did you find the strength?

"I asked Rebbetzin Chana Povarski, my ulpana principal, this once. Despite shared experiences with friends who didn’t return to Judaism, I had. Her answer moved me deeply: 'You likely have ancestors pleading for you in heaven who won't relent.'"

The Aspiration: Helping Children

At 24, Hannah married a fellow Ukrainian returnee to Judaism. "By then, I had a degree in educational consulting and Judaism," she notes. "Studying Judaism broadened my knowledge, while educational consulting was crucial for impacting our children's lives."

Currently, Hannah dedicates herself to early childhood consulting, recently developing 'Emotion Land,' a game to enhance emotional intelligence. "This game teaches emotional labeling, letting children articulate feelings early. Naturally, my first testers were my own kids. Amazed, I watched even the youngest recognizing emotions and expressing themselves instead of reacting physically. That's the effect I intended to create."

"My aspiration is to aid as many children as possible," she asserts. "I see it as a great privilege, especially through Torah and mitzvot, an incredibly fulfilling pursuit."

To contact Hannah: Hanagefen@gmail.com