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The sun sets over Uman. This town, in the Cherkasy Oblast of Ukraine, is about two hours by bus from Kyiv. On Pushkin Street, the Jewish epicentre of the city, hundreds of Jews have started singing together. Some are dancing, others are pounding their chests. Their raised arms seem to want to touch the sky.
This is the second pilgrimage to Uman since the beginning of Russia's invasion of Ukraine on 24 February 2022.
Every Rosh Hashanah, or Jewish New Year, this small town of around 90,000 inhabitants hosts the largest Jewish pilgrimage outside Israel. Over 35,000 pilgrims – most of them Orthodox Jews – are present, according to the Ukrainian interior minister.
Tens of thousands of Jews from Israel, France, the United States, and elsewhere have made the journey to pay their respects at the tomb of Rabbi Nahman of Breslev. This 18th-century Hasidic saint is celebrated for his teachings on joy, dance, and song, which he held to be central to the Jewish faith.
Since his death, his tomb has become a place of pilgrimage for his followers, known as the Breslev Hasidim, and for any Jew seeking to draw closer to God.
Eastern Europe in general, and Poland and Ukraine in particular, figure in the collective imagination of many Jews as the place where they were annihilated. Many Jews of Eastern European origin have retained a certain bitterness towards this land, which they regard as an open-air graveyard, due to the pogroms during the Cossack hetmanate (1648-1764) and the Holocaust. Today, Ukraine's Jewish community barely numbers 45,000, whereas in 1941 there were more than 2.7 million Jews living in Ukraine.
However, despite Russia's efforts to portray its war of aggression as a denazification operation, Ukraine is currently (according to the Pew Research Center) the least anti-Semitic country in Europe. Other than Israel, it is also the only nation in the world whose head of state is Jewish. Today, Ukraine is making an effort to reconnect with its Jewish past, even though this may conflict with other parts of its history, and is encouraging the restoration of Jewish heritage.
A place for all Jews
"We are all kinds of Jews here in Uman," explains Levi Breslever, an Orthodox Jew from Jerusalem and a disciple of Rabbi Nahman. "There are secular Jews, Sephardic Jews [of North African ancestry], Ashkenazi Jews [of Eastern European ancestry], Hasidic Jews, Breslev Hasidim disciples, traditionalists – but in Uman, we are all united."
Levi, 50, recounts that Rabbi Nahman of Breslev chose to be buried in Uman to accompany the souls of thousands of Jews massacred by Cossack hordes during a pogrom in the 18th century.
During his lifetime, Rabbi Nahman promised that anyone who came to his grave, who gave alms (tzedakah), and who recited ten Psalms would be spared from the fires of hell.
"It is because of their blood that our Rabbi [Nahman] decided to be buried here. Through their martyrdom, Uman is the lowest place on earth, but our master teaches us that through our prayers and dances, we can reverse fate and make this place one where even the angels envy our love for God. So, every year, we come here to intercede."
Levi came with three of his sons and a group of friends.
"We fear the judgement of God more than the Russian army," says Nahman, one of Levi's sons. "Our sages teach us that if we make a pilgrimage to our Rabbi's grave, all our sins will be forgiven for the coming year, and our names will be written in the Book of Life."
Traditionally, the journey was made by plane to Kyiv, where hundreds of shuttles would take the pilgrims to Uman. Lately, the route has been modified. "We go through Moldova or Przemysl in Poland. It takes longer, but we hope that Ukraine can win the war soon, and we can all return by plane."
Back from the front to pray
While the majority of pilgrims come from outside of Ukraine – mostly from Israel – Ukrainian Jews also come to Uman. Since Russia’s full-scale invasion, many are serving in the Ukrainian army.
Daniil, whose nom de guerre is "Rebbe" (“rabbi” in Yiddish), is one of them. He arrived the day before from Klishivka, in the Donetsk Oblast, where Ukrainian forces achieved a breakthrough on September 18.
"My commander gave me permission to come for Rosh Hashanah, but I have to leave tomorrow," says Daniil, 43. He has a tired look, and his uniform betrays the months spent as a paramedic on the front lines.
He wears the emblem of Ukrainian nationalists, red and black – now an unofficial Ukrainian war flag – on which he sewed a Star of David, as many Ukrainian Jewish soldiers do. He also wears a small kippah in the colours of the army, and long tzitzit (ritual fringes) hang down to his knees.
On Pushkin Street, which leads to Rabbi Nahman's tomb, Daniil quickly becomes the centre of attention for the pilgrims. Some come to shake his hand, embrace him, and shout "Slava Ukraini!" (“Glory to Ukraine!”) before going to pray.
But others strike a different tone. A young Israeli shouts in Hebrew, "Why are you fighting with the Nazis? You're a Jewish Nazi, that's what you are!" "Rebbe" doesn't have time to respond before another Orthodox Jew comes to hug him. "Thank you for what you're doing, Slava Ukraini! I pray that this year the Lord our God frees the Ukrainian people from Putin's yoke, but above all, that the Lord protects you from all harm, you, your family, and your comrades."
A young settler, accompanied by a group of friends, takes his hand and asks, "You're Jewish, you wear the kippah, you wear the tzitzit. Why are you fighting in the Ukrainian army? Why don't you go to Israel? That's your country, not Ukraine."
"Rebbe" replies that he is fighting for freedom, for his family, because he is Ukrainian, and for Dina, his 9-year-old daughter.
He manages to break free from the crowd surrounding him and is swept into a dance before going to pray at Rabbi Nahman's tomb.
"I was born into an atheist family," he says. “But I returned to the Torah and have been coming to Uman for years. Every year, I see miracles at the Rabbi's tomb. I feel his presence and it sustains me in the year ahead. But this year, I don't even know what to hope for anymore. I'm too tired."
See Aaron Chamski’s complete photo story on the Uman pilgrimage 2023 here.
This article is published within the Come Together collaborative project
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