The Invitation Back to Uman

As thousands of Jews prepare to travel to Uman for Rosh Hashanah, a time traditionally devoted to prayer for life, health and the year ahead, a story circulating among those making the pilgrimage offers a remarkable glimpse into the enduring faith placed in a promise made by Rebbe Nachman of Breslov.

Rebbe Nachman promised to intercede for those who visit his gravesite, give charity and recite the 10 chapters of Psalms known as the Tikkun HaKlali, pledging to “pull them out of Gehennom.”

For Monsey resident Mendy Wurtzberger, Rebbe Nachman’s promise would become part of an unexpected journey that began during one of the most difficult periods of his life. He owned a large plumbing company whose primary client was a Wall Street firm. When the firm collapsed amid the 2008 financial crisis, so did Wurtzberger’s business. With his business in ruins, a journey to Uman was the last thing he had planned. It was then that someone suggested he spend Rosh Hashanah in Uman, seeking a blessing from Rebbe Nachman.

Before leaving, Wurtzberger received a call from a cousin concerned about a young man from a religious family who had become estranged from his Chasidic upbringing. He had been disconnected from Torah observance for over a decade and was married to a non-Jewish woman. Wurtzberger agreed to meet him, and the two hit it off. As Wurtzberger finalized his plans to travel to Uman to seek a blessing for his livelihood, he casually invited the young man to come along, almost as an afterthought. After some hesitation, he agreed.

What Wurtzberger witnessed in Uman surprised him. The young man, who had been estranged from religious life for years, spent much of Rosh Hashanah at Rebbe Nachman’s gravesite, wrapped in his tallis and weeping as he prayed.

After returning to New York, life largely returned to its previous course for both men. The young man resumed his former life, while Wurtzberger continued to grapple with the same financial challenges.

Eight months later, the young man was found dead in a Florida swimming pool.

At the Brooklyn funeral, a confrontation erupted when his wife demanded that he be cremated, while his brothers and other relatives fought to have him buried according to halacha. Cremation is prohibited under Jewish law and is considered incompatible with kavod ha-meis, the dignity owed to the deceased, because it deliberately destroys and mutilates the body rather than allowing it to be returned peacefully to the earth.

The family ultimately prevailed and buried him according to Jewish law. But his wife refused to let the matter end there. The deceased had left a substantial life-insurance policy, and she used the funds to sue the funeral home, the rabbi and members of his family, seeking to have the body exhumed and cremated.

The case continued for an extended period. Her attorney argued that the deceased had been estranged from Jewish religious life for many years, while his family maintained that his lack of religious observance did not alter his Jewish identity or his right to a Jewish burial.

Meanwhile, Wurtzberger had gone on with his own life. About two years after the trip to Uman, and several weeks before another Rosh Hashanah, he encountered Reb Lazer Shiner, who is well known for his hospitality to visitors in Uman. Shiner invited Wurtzberger to return to Uman for Rosh Hashanah as his guest. Wurtzberger declined and told Shiner, “Been there, done that!” According to Wurtzberger, he then added that he would return only if Rebbe Nachman himself personally invited him.

Soon afterward, Wurtzberger said, he walked into Amnon’s Pizza on 13th Avenue in Boro Park and encountered the brothers of the young man he had accompanied to Uman. Their reaction surprised him. They greeted him warmly and treated him with an unusual degree of honor. Wurtzberger did not understand why.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out with your brother,” Wurtzberger said, almost apologetically.

The brothers exchanged surprised looks. Wurtzberger had assumed that, in the end, the Uman experience had made little difference. They quickly assured him that he was mistaken.

Then they began to tell him what had happened after their brother’s death, a story Wurtzberger had never heard. According to their account, the case had taken an unexpected turn. The judge said that although he himself was not Jewish, he understood the significance of Rosh Hashanah for Jews. He asked where the deceased had spent the last Rosh Hashanah of his life.

The answer: Uman.

The brothers said the judge then asked what Uman meant and learned about the thousands who gather there each Rosh Hashanah at Rebbe Nachman’s gravesite, as well as the Breslov tradition surrounding the Tikkun HaKlali. None of this had been raised by the family in court.

Then came the ruling. The brothers told Wurtzberger that the judge concluded, “If this is how he spent his last Rosh Hashanah, he should remain buried according to Jewish law.”

For the brothers, the ruling came as an enormous relief. What had seemed like a fleeting spiritual experience in Uman had ultimately played a crucial role in ensuring that their brother remained buried according to halacha. To them, it was a powerful sign that Rebbe Nachman had kept his promise – from the grave.

Rav Eliezer Kenig, a prominent Breslov rabbi, offered another perspective on the story. He pointed to the intensity and persistence with which the woman fought to have her husband cremated, saying it offered a glimpse into the environment in which the young man had been living, at how distant he was from his Jewish roots. The miracle, he said, was not what happened in court after his death, but what took place at Rebbe Nachman’s gravesite in Uman, where the young man had turned back to his faith.

And for Wurtzberger, the timing was striking. He had just told Lazer Shiner that he would return to Uman only if Rebbe Nachman himself invited him. After feeling he had been put through the wringer despite his first trip to Uman, Wurtzberger saw his encounter with the young man’s brothers and the story they revealed as the personal invitation he had asked for.

Devora Mandell is a New York attorney and writer. She previously served as Washington Bureau Chief for The Jewish Press and has written extensively on Jewish communal, political, and civic affairs. She currently practices law in New York, with a focus on litigation and legal advocacy.