Celebrating Rosh Hashanah with Rebbe Nachman in Ukraine

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Normally, about 50 Jewish families, or about 250 individuals, make their home in the Ukrainian city of Uman. Prior to Rosh Hashanah, however, this number explodes as some 30,000 Jewish men and boys (and a few women and girls, too) make their way to the vicinity of the tziyun hakadosh, the resting place of Rebbe Nachman (1772-1810), founder of Breslov Hasidism. Most of these pilgrims are from Israel, though a large number are from the United States. A good percentage, perhaps as many as half, are Sephardim/Bene Edot Hamizrach.

They are drawn to Uman by Rebbe Nachman’s exhortation to go to him for Rosh Hashanah. In the work “Chayei Moharan,” his leading disciple, Rabbi Natan of Nemirov (Reb Noson, 1780-1844), records some of Rebbe Nachman’s pronouncements on the importance of the New Year pilgrimage: “And he said to us, ‘What can I tell you? There is nothing greater than this: that is, being by me on Rosh Hashanah’… And all this was when he spoke with us in Uman during his last Rosh Hashanah.” Accordingly, his followers understood Rebbe Nachman’s request to journey to him in Uman – where he resided in the final months before his death from tuberculosis at age 38 – as applying even after he passed away.

The shared goal of answering Rebbe Nachman’s call to join him for God’s coronation on Rosh Hashanah creates a quick feeling of brotherhood among the joyous pilgrims. At the same time – for those not used to very large crowds – eating, learning, praying and sleeping (or not sleeping) in close quarters with so many new brothers can require a mental adjustment.

As in the previous year, I was again in Uman this Rosh Hashanah with my friends Daniel and Yaniv, who both traveled from Israel. At the end of Friday evening services, as we planned to leave the packed Ashkenazic synagogue where we had prayed, Yaniv and I found the aisle obstructed by two friends who were embracing each other. Rather than stepping aside when the two friends realized they were blocking our exit, they drew Yaniv and me into their hold. At the end of this group hug, one of the young men said in Hebrew, “Now let us see us do this is in Israel!” Indeed, one of the challenges posed by intense religious or communal experiences is how to carry that energy from a specific time and place into day-to-day living.

While in Uman, it sometimes helps to keep in mind that though the current number of Rosh Hashanah pilgrims far exceeds the several hundred of Rebbe Nachman’s day, some of the basic challenges of space and accommodation have not changed. Rabbi Natan records that when one of Rebbe Nachman’s followers asked if he might instead come to the Rebbe at a different time, when it would be less crowded, it would be possible to get better room and board and there would be fewer distractions, Rebbe Nachman replied: “Whether you eat or do not eat, whether you sleep or do not sleep, whether you pray or do not pray [with intention] – just be by me on Rosh Hashanah, come what may.”

In addition to the easy friendship of Uman, another striking aspect of Rosh Hashanah there is mizug galuyot, the integration of different Jewish communities once separated by the Diaspora. The early Hasidic rabbis of Europe drew on the Sephardic/Edot Hamizrach mystics who preceded them. But in the last 70 years there has been a dramatic exchange of customs and practices among different Jewish ethnic groups. Chabad and Breslov Hasidism, in particular, have strongly resonated with Sephardim/Bene Edot Hamizrach.

I embody this national mizug (integration). My mother’s family came to Rhode Island from the Pale of Settlement, including areas of that are now in Ukraine. My father’s family came to the state of Israel from Kurdistan and Iraq. And I have cousins on both sides of my family who identify with Chabad Hasidism or with Breslov Hasidism.

As so many of the Rosh Hashanah pilgrims are now Sephardim/Bene Edot Hamizrach, it made sense that at midnight on the eve of Rosh Hashanah they took charge of the main hall of the tziyun hakadosh for a special selichot service led by a popular Israeli cantor. Ashkenazic Jews joined hundreds of Jews whose families once dwelt in Ethiopia, Morocco, Yemen or Iraq for an exuberant chanting of Sephardic selichot.

An additional feature of Rosh Hashanah in Uman is the diversity found in the types of Jews who join the pilgrimage. “The gathering at Uman draws everyone from Hasids to hippies – from people who come for a Jewish happening to others seeking spiritual depth. Rebbe Nachman’s appeal today mirrors his efforts 200 years ago – to reach seekers,” according to Rabbi Gil Bashe of the Breslov Research Institute, whom I met and spent time with in Ukraine.

“Uman has something for everyone and Rebbe Nachman guaranteed that those who come for Rosh Hashanah would experience something unique and personal. That’s why the gathering grows every year, with old-timers and newcomers finding a connection across religious practice and approach,” he explained.

With more and more Jews encountering Hasidic teachings – and with the number of pilgrims increasing from one Rosh Hashanah to the next – new inns, hostels, apartment buildings and synagogues continue to rise in the vicinity of the tziyun hakadosh. Last year, Chabad had a modest-sized prayer tent situated near Chazon Ovadiah, a relatively large Sephardic/Edot Hamizrach synagogue (named for the late Sephardic Chief Rabbi of Israel, Ovadiah Yosef) that was nonetheless too small to accommodate its worshippers. This year, Chabad moved into Chazon Ovadiah’s former space, and the latter relocated to a newly-built and much larger synagogue – though even this new edifice was insufficient. During services, worshippers stood inside Chazon Ovadiah and poured out into the street.

Fortunately, I was able to find a place to stand inside Chazon Ovadiah during the first night of Rosh Hashanah. As one fellow worshipper observed, rather than being a prayer service directed by the cantor, it was spontaneously led by the crowd, which danced and clapped in the aisles. I also attended Chabad services. What Chabad in Uman lacks in air-conditioning (it has none), it makes up for in comfortable chairs (available to those who arrive early enough). For services that can span six hours, a comfortable chair is no small thing.

More importantly, Chabad in Uman also exemplifies mizug galuyot. Its synagogue was full of Jews from many countries and backgrounds, including a large contingent of French Jews of North African origin, with their requisite holiday uniform of skinny jeans and black or white T-shirts. These men had come to Uman with a young French rabbi who read the Torah portion for the congregation with a thick Edot Hamizrach accent, properly pronouncing the Hebrew letters ayin and chet. His reading, preceded and followed in the prayer service by powerful Chabad nigunim (melodies), did not feel out of place.

On Saturday afternoon I went on a walking tour of historic Jewish Uman with Rabbi Bashe, who is a former Israel Defense Forces paratrooper and who fought in the First Lebanon War. He led a group of mostly-American pilgrims on a 2 1/2-hour trek through the roads, hills and valleys of Uman, and even the younger pilgrims found it difficult to keep up with him.

“When Rebbe Nachman came to Uman, most residents were ‘enlightened Jews’ (maskilim) and not Breslov Hasids. They welcomed Rebbe Nachman into their homes, and he welcomed them into his heart. They connected with him and found his ‘rabbi of the soul’ approach spiritually meaningful,” Rabbi Bashe explained. “Uman remains that vestige of welcome to all Jews. Shtreimel-wearing Hasids and baseball cap-seekers eat, pray and dance together. Uman Rosh Hashanah is about inclusion and acceptance. Rebbe Nachman was a great leader – a leader who unified people during his time and across the generations – and his words and approach remain powerful and speak to our needs today.”

Jewish life in Uman, as in the rest of Europe, was punctuated by discrimination, massacres, pillaging, attempts at forced conversion to Christianity and pogroms. Nonetheless, a vibrant Jewish community took hold, and Rebbe Nachman specifically chose to be buried in Uman alongside some of the thousands of Jews martyred there for their faith.

The next day, at 4 a.m., I accompanied Rabbi Bashe on a visit to Breslov, the town from which Breslov Hasids got their name and where Rabbi Natan of Nemirov is buried. From there, after praying shacharit in a small structure near Rabbi Natan’s tomb, we continued to the old and vast Jewish cemetery of Berditchev, burial place of Rabbi Levi Yitzchak, the Hasidic master famous for his vindications of the Jewish nation before God. By the afternoon we reached the capital city, Kiev, and I made my way back to Providence.

SHAI AFSAI’S “Uman: Pilgrimage and Prayer,” an article on his first visit to Ukraine, was published in the Summer 2017 issue of the Reform Jewish Quarterly. He will speak on Jewish pilgrimage to Ukraine at Providence’s Temple Emanu-El on Sunday, Nov. 19, 4-5:30 p.m.