Gevalt… Baruch Hashem I was zoche to be one of the 60,000 Yidden who made the trip to Uman this year. I’ve been trying to process Uman and figure out what I’m bringing with me into the year from it, and I don’t think I fully know yet. I think it’s something I’ll be processing throughout the whole year. But there are a few things I keep coming back to.
Hope. Geulah. Authenticity. There’s something so special about Uman where you can just be exactly who you are. There are no fake walls up. No pretending. No caring what others think. It’s just straight love, warmth, and acceptance. Everyone is doing their own avodah, yet everyone is so connected, and somehow that’s not a contradiction at all.
In Uman you can daven. Cry. Sing. Dance. Learn. Scream out to Hashem. Be vulnerable. Be brokenhearted. Be happy. Be confused. It doesn’t matter what it is — you can just be exactly where you’re at. And wherever that is for you, there is space for it and you mamish feel like you belong.
A big inyan Rebbe Nachman taught was starting anew constantly, and being in Uman made it so easy to do so at any moment. My Rebbe teaches that the medicine to start anew is LSD: laughing, singing, dancing. And you can do that at any time, any place, at any point in Uman without feeling judged.
And all of this is mamish a taste of Geulah. It’s a Yiddishkeit of Warmth. Joy. Truth. Simplicity. Compassion. Encouragement. Yearning. Authenticity. Vulnerability. Humility. Unconditional love. Real achdus. Mamish a breath of fresh air.
On the first day, when I was davening Mussaf, I got to:
והיה ביום ההוא יתקע בשופר גדול ובאו האבדים בארץ אשור והנדחים בארץ מצרים והשתחוו לה׳ בהר הקדש בירושלם
On that day, a great shofar will be blown, and those who were lost in the land of Ashur and those who were cast away in the land of Mitzrayim will come and bow down to Hashem on the holy mountain in Yerushalayim. (Yeshayahu 27:13)
And I just broke down and lost it. I couldn’t move past those words for like 10–15 minutes.
Abba, bring us back home. We’re so scattered. We’re in so much pain. We’re in galus as a nation, and each of us is aching to come home from a galus of our own.
Bring back every single one of Your children. Bring back every single lost part of ourselves. Bring back every part of ourselves that has fallen for the shtus and mistaken it for a way to feel loved or to connect to You. Bring back every part of ourselves that has forgotten our worth. Bring back every part of us that has forgotten the depth of Your love. Bring back every part of us that feels too far to return.
Abba, bring us home. Every single one of us and every single part of us.
We mamish need Mashiach. And we need it right now. And I really believe we’re so, so close. A Father takes care of His children, and I believe Hashem is going to take care of us and bring us home.
And I also feel like I’m not just walking away with hope for the Geulah of Klal Yisrael. I’m walking away with so much hope for myself.
There were things in my life last year that felt so heavy and so stuck. Things that, at the time, I really couldn’t see how they could change. But they did, because Hashem can flip the script in an instant. I lived and experienced what Yeshuas Hashem k’heref ayin means.
And to come back one year later to the same place where I once prayed with such a broken heart, and to realize that I’m now living the yeshuah I was davening for then, was such a surreal hopeful experience.
So much can change in a year. So much can change in a moment! We literally have no idea what Hashem has waiting for us on the other side of something that right now feels impossible. I don’t need to know how, I just need to remember Who is writing the story.
Just hold on one moment at a time. That’s all we can do. Rebbe Nachman doesn’t give up on anyone. No matter how far you feel, he shows you your light. He shows you that your struggles and your falls aren’t you. And if the Tzaddik can see deeper than all of the sheker, of course Hashem does.
Hashem chose us. Hashem desires us. Hashem made us holy. And He is continuously rechoosing us with all the things we carry.
Ashreinu! Ashreinu! Ashreinu!
And something I’m realizing is that I don’t think bringing Uman home means making crazy big changes in my life. I think it’s creating little pockets of Uman air throughout the year and remembering the light when you need it.
Dance throughout the day. Don’t take things so seriously all the time. Laugh a little more. Remember that there is no meniyah (spiritual obstacle) you cannot overcome. Remember that you are loved and chosen by Hashem. And just as you are, so is every other Yid. We are all in this together.
I was also zoche to stay at Rabbi Yaakov Klein’s Uman B’Chabura program, which was an incredible, more intimate experience of Uman Rosh Hashanah. I was speaking with him about the achdus and vulnerability in Uman, and he was saying that he believes the vulnerability is what leads to the achdus.
Everyone is carrying a world inside them. And when you can see inside someone, all the klipos melt away and it’s impossible not to love them and just want to give them a hug.
And this is something I hope to take with me throughout the whole year. I pray I can look at people with that same achdus and ahavas Yisrael even when they don’t feel safe enough to share what they’re carrying. Because whether they share or they don’t, they deserve to be held with unconditional love.
And when I can’t tap into any of this, I pray I can come back to the thing that I feel Uman was really screaming out to me this year:
There is hope. For me. For every Yid. For the broken parts. For Klal Yisrael. For the entire world.
Geulah is real. And the process of Geulah is nearing its completion. May we all be zoche to witness it במהרה בימינו.
This article was found in Nekuda Tova Issue 103.
