Checkpoints call the city. Policemen with Kalashnikovs strapped to their chests block the roads.
Looking for the cars. The documents are carefully checked.
Every year, on Rosh Hashana, the Jewish New Year, thousands of Hasidic Jews gather in the small city of Uman, in central Ukraine, to throw a huge party. The war hasn’t changed that — this Rosh Hashana is expected to be even more crowded than in previous years. And security is tight.
The airspace of Ukraine has become closed to civilian traffic since the start of the war, so in recent days, from Moldova, Poland, Hungary and Romania, crowds of men wearing long black coats and hard black hats have been pouring into the borders of Ukraine, opposing to travel warnings – as they did last year – to stay away.
The draw? Worshiping the tomb of a famous rabbi who was full of life and died in Uman more than 200 years ago.
This rabbi, Nachman of Breslov, a town near Uman, celebrated happiness. He said that expressing joy — lively, joyful joy — is a way to draw closer to God. His followers believe that by praying (and partaking) in the Uman during the Jewish New Year, they will gain blessings for the next 12 months.
So they pump Klezmer music. They held each other and danced in the streets. They drink wine and hang out with their friends — hundreds of friends.
Uman officials said Thursday they were prepared for all of this even as they and other Ukrainian officials tried to warn people of this year’s arrival. More than 30,000 visitors, mostly from Israel and mostly men, are expected.
“It’s hard work,” said Zoya Vovk, a spokeswoman for Uman’s police. “Just look at the crowd. And don’t forget: We are at war.”
He stood at a checkpoint in a freshly pressed uniform and blue baseball cap, his ponytail pulled back, looking at the people passing by. In the past, there have been some conflicts between worshipers and residents. But the event is also a big moneymaker for Uman, bringing in tens of millions of dollars each year, so the city is reluctant to stop it.
The main activities begin on Friday night after sunset, but by Thursday afternoon the party has already begun.
“Hey, wait!” Israel Moyal, a photographer from Jerusalem, shouted to some friends who were missing in the growing crowd.
The sun was shining, the breeze stirred the leaves on the trees and the smell of kosher pizza wafted through the air.
“We pray together, we dance together,” explained Mr. Moyal as he half walked, half jogged to catch up. “This is unity, man. It’s fun.”
