If there was one theme that ran through the life of Rabbi Yona Poltaver, it would be complete and utter sacrifice. Perhaps it was this very value that drew him to become a Chabad chassid and the eventual leader of a vast underground network of Jewish schools in the USSR. For a decade, he devoted himself to this clandestine cause, including the effort to spirit hundreds of people out of the USSR, which led to his arrest and subsequent death in Soviet prison.1

The Shabbat Test

Born to a non-Chasidic family just before the 20th century in Poltava, Ukraine, Yona Kahan (Russified as “Kagan”) came to be known as Yona Poltaver after his hometown. He grew up to become a bright and ambitious young man, filled with the desire to learn. His parents, envisioning a successful future, hoped he would enter university to become a doctor, judge, or prominent figure in society. Yona, too, was eager to fulfill these dreams, but fate had a different plan.

The final university entrance exam was scheduled for Shabbat. His parents pulled every string they could to try and reschedule the test, but nothing worked. Friends urged him to make an exception—just this once—arguing that desecrating Shabbat for such a crucial occasion would be justified for the greater good.

Conflicted, Yona turned to Rabbi Yisrael Pinchas Schreiber, a local Chabad chassid and mentor. After their conversation, Yona made a firm decision: he would not desecrate Shabbat, even if it meant abandoning his dreams of higher secular education. Instead, he chose a different path and set off to join the central Chabad Yeshivah, Tomchei Temimim, in Lubavitch, Russia. He was only 15 years old.

In 1918, a few years after his arrival, the Bolshevik Revolution forced the yeshivah to relocate multiple times, from Kremenchuk to Kharkiv, then Nevel. Through all the upheavals, Yona remained steadfast in his commitment, his rigorous studies undisturbed.

Underground Education

Years passed, and the Soviet regime clamped down on Jewish institutions. Yeshivahs were shuttered, teachers imprisoned, and communities infiltrated by spies. Jewish education was forced underground, a secret network operating out of sight of the Soviet authorities.

In the summer of 1936, the Sixth Chabad Rebbe, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn, of righteous memory, entrusted the leadership of this underground school network to Reb Yona Kahan. Those who had held the position had all been either imprisoned or forced to flee.

With the secret schools constantly being shut down, Reb Yona was responsible for finding communities willing to provide new locations in synagogues or basements across the USSR, and teachers who were willing to risk their lives for this sacred cause.

Reb Yona convened a secret meeting in Moscow with a group of young, unmarried men. He couldn’t risk involving those with families, so he turned to this fearless group who had “nothing to lose”—no wives or children who would be put in danger. These devoted young men became the teachers, administrators, and organizers of a new era of secret education.

Reb Yona agonized over every detail—teachers, students, curriculum, locations—pouring his heart into every decision. The students were like his own children, perhaps because he and his wife, Sara, were childless.

Keeping students enrolled despite the constant danger was a struggle. “The children are not to blame,” he famously stated. “Their fears are very well understood. We must say Tehillim from the depths of our hearts, crying and beseeching G‑d to plant the desire to learn Torah in their hearts.”

A friend recalled that he once arrived at Reb Yona’s home to consult with him, and found him sitting and reciting chapters of Psalms with tears streaming down his face. “I just received a letter from a school saying that the children have stopped coming to study and possibly will not continue,” he explained.

In addition to the danger involved in every aspect of the operation, the financial burden of running these secret schools was immense. It was difficult to collect money because most Jews who were interested in supporting the cause were themselves living in poverty. Moreover, transferring money under Soviet scrutiny was a high-stakes game. Anyone caught with significant funds faced interrogation and imprisonment. To protect the network, everyone involved knew as little as possible about the operations. The person transporting the money didn’t know who it was going to, and the person receiving the money had no idea where it came from. Secret codes were used and no one dared ask questions.

Personal Sacrifice

Reb Yona’s personal life was full of sacrifice as well. He fasted every Monday and Thursday and subsisted on bread baked by a Jew—a rarity at the time. His wife would bake him a small cake each morning, which he brought to synagogue, leaving it on the side as he prayed. Often, the cake would mysteriously vanish during his prayers, but he didn’t bat an eye. Although his stomach may have been empty, someone was obviously in more dire need than he.

Each Shabbat morning, he walked two hours to the only mikvah in Moscow, then another hour and a half to his synagogue, all without carrying any form of identification (due to the halachic prohibition of carrying items in public areas on Shabbat), risking arrest with every step. The congregation respected his dedication, delaying the Torah reading until he arrived.

With the German invasion of Russia in June 1941, Reb Yona, along with many of his fellow chassidim, relocated to Tashkent, Uzbekistan. A Soviet Republic far from the war, Uzbekistan was the perfect setting for chassidim seeking respite, especially the cities of Samarkand and Tashkent. Soon after settling, they decided to build a men’s mikvah, but without funds and aiming to avoid unwanted attention, they couldn’t hire workers. Undeterred, Reb Yona, with the help of a few others, personally dug and constructed the mikvah, joyfully pouring his heart and soul into the effort.

The Captain Goes Down With the Ship

Following the war, when Russia expelled Poles living in newly annexed land, sending them back to Polish-controlled territory, many chassidim seized the chance to escape Russia using forged Polish documents. Reb Yona traveled to the Russian-controlled city of Lviv to assist his fellow chassidim in this escape.

Together with Reb Mendel Futerfas, Reb Yona took care of the educational needs of the chassidim in Lviv, whether it meant fundraising or setting up schools.

Chassidim from all over the Soviet Union flocked to Lviv, hoping to secure documents and their freedom. Although over 500 people managed to escape, as time went on, it became a much more difficult feat. The government, knowing that most Poles had left already, became increasingly suspicious.

Toward the end of the summer of 1946, over 300 people purchased documents and tickets to leave on a scheduled train when word spread: the Russians had caught wind of the operation—anyone who tried to escape would be arrested! For a few weeks, everyone hid in their homes, but the situation was grim. They had spent all their money on the means to escape; they couldn't continue on in hiding, penniless. Finally, a group of people, realizing there was nothing to lose, decided to take the train regardless. Miraculously, they crossed the border to safety.

Slowly but surely, more and more people managed to leave, but it wasn't enough. Hundreds remained in Lviv, trying to purchase documents and train tickets. Finally, as the winter arrived, around 240 chassidim managed to get tickets for a train leaving on December 2nd. The chassidim, none of whom spoke Polish, made sure to stay quiet and avoid suspicion. If caught, the punishment would be severe. Remarkably, the train crossed the border to safety after only a few hefty bribes and one arrest. The largest group of chassidim to ever have crossed the border was safe.

Two more groups of chassidim managed to escape during that winter, but Reb Yona wasn’t among them. Although he had managed to secure forged documents for himself and was prepared to cross the border to freedom, many Chabad students remained trapped, without papers or a way to escape. Remembering the mission entrusted to him by the Rebbe—that the students were his responsibility—Reb Yona made yet another sacrifice, deciding he would not leave the USSR as long as even one student remained behind.

Reb Mendel Futerfas, another organizer of the escape, contemplated fleeing with his family. He shared his struggle with Reb Yona, who scolded him: “Does sacrifice also have a limit?” The words struck a deep chord. Reb Mendel sent his family to safety but chose to remain behind, ultimately facing years of suffering in Soviet prison and the Siberian gulag.2

About a month after the last transport left, Reb Yona was getting ready for his morning prayers at home when he was notified that the KGB had raided and arrested several chassidim overnight. He announced that he wouldn’t be leaving until he finished his prayers and daily Torah study. When he was ready, he walked out calmly, just minutes before the KGB showed up at his door.

Reb Yona managed to flee to Moscow, then Leningrad, where he found refuge in the home of a Chabad family in Pavlovsk, a suburb of the city.

Not long after, during a Chassidic gathering on the 19th of Kislev, a knock came at the door of the home he was staying in. Although he usually remained in hiding behind closed doors, this gathering was all familiar faces and Reb Yona felt safe. The door opened; it was a Jew who happened to be a known government informant. Tension in the room rose. Although the man sat down as if nothing was amiss, everyone there knew what was coming.

Reb Yona, glancing at his host, realized there was nothing to be done. It was the end.

Sure enough, the door soon opened again, this time with force, as KGB officers stormed in, arresting both the informant and Reb Yona. The informant, arrested only for appearances, was released soon thereafter.

Even in the harsh Soviet prison, Reb Yona maintained his spiritual routines, fasting and praying as much as his weakened body would allow. The brutal conditions, however, took their toll, and he passed away on 22 Shevat, 1949.

His wife, Sara, was arrested later and eventually released. She made her way to Israel, living out her days with a niece.

A Legacy of Sacrifice

Reb Yona Poltaver’s life was defined by sacrifice, from the moment he refused to take an exam on Shabbat to his final days in a Soviet prison. He cared for thousands of students as if they were his own children and ensured that no one was left behind, ultimately sacrificing his life—his body never to receive a proper Jewish burial. His legacy endures in the countless lives he touched, a living testament to his profound sense of responsibility and love for his fellow Jews.