A Twitter user reminded us that bereaved families were barred from visiting military cemeteries this past Memorial Day for Fallen Soldiers and Victims of Terrorism because of coronavirus. And now, Israel is working with Ukraine to stop Hassidic Jews flocking to Uman to pray at the grave of Rabbi Nachman of Breslov.
As different as the two cases might be, we can assume that some productive thinking might have made it possible to allow bereaved families to visit their loved ones' graves without worrying about contracting coronavirus. The same goes for arranging visits to Uman – the risk of infection can be reduced, despite the masses who visit the rabbi's burial site.
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The easy way out was chosen, and any thought that might have led to a framework that could have reduced the risk of spreading the virus through gatherings at these sites was canceled. The Israeli mind refused a directive about how to loosen the knot that the pandemic tied. Governments have a long tradition of humanitarian aid, helping victims of natural disasters in far-flung countries. But what about the Hassidim, our own people? Should we ignore them? Should we be indifferent to their longing to visit Uman?
The country is proud of ensuring that members of all faiths who live here can worship freely. Jewish law does not require the faithful to prostrate themselves on Rabbi Nachman's grave; it is a custom, not a commandment. But the Hassidim have a burning desire to fly to Uman. And these Hassidim are deserving of efforts by the government to help them realize that desire.
This issue should be examined, and not only because of the dispute over visits to Uman this year. The government must protect its citizens' lives, and ensure freedom of worship – all kinds – as well as the freedom to protest.
But how much time have TV studios devoted to talking about the pilgrimage to Uman, compared to something similar? News broadcasts have intentionally played down the public health ramifications of thousands of people gathering outside the Prime Minister's Residence to protest. When it comes to the Haredi sector, which includes the Hassidim, less effort, if any, is made. Most people see them as a bizarre, foreign people, and there are reasons for that – that they refuse to serve in the IDF and oppose the core school curriculum are just two. But it should be mentioned that not everyone who makes the pilgrimage to Uman is Haredi.
The Haredi public's choice to shut out the rest of society comes at a price. Both sides have to deal with the result. When do representatives of the Zionist state sit down and talk to the Haredim? When there is a political need to. For example, when the Haredim make demands prior to joining the coalition, some secular representatives call them "extortionists." As if only one side was setting demands that would make it hard to form a government. At other times, we can see violent confrontations between the police and Haredi protesters who are making demands that put a burden on day-to-day life in Israel, especially when it comes to holidays.
But in spite of the well-known difficulties, it would have been better to use the relatively calm days to try and launch a dialogue with the Hassidic leaders. At first glance, it might appear to be something we could only imagine, but has there ever been any real effort to talk about values? David Ben-Gurion might have been the only one, the first and the last, to hold a series of talks with religious scholars about the as-yet unsolved question "Who is a Jew?"
Maybe the Uman crisis will be a catalyst for a healthy dialogue between the Haredi and secular parts of society. Let's try to make it happen!
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