In Ukraine, Celebrating a New Year During an Old War

by Chaya Ohana – chabad.org

As the High Holy Days approach, Jews across the globe are busy preparing for a season of introspection, renewal and prayer. But in Ukraine, those preparations are shaped by more than just liturgy and logistics—they’re happening amid war, displacement and unshakable commitment to the Jewish people.

In the war-torn city of Sumy, just 20 kilometers (about 12.5 miles) from the front lines, Rabbi Yechiel Levitansky is balancing the physical demands of a humanitarian crisis with the spiritual needs of his community. Surrounded by the sounds of nearby explosions, he is organizing Rosh Hashanah services, shofar-blowing routes, holiday meals and the distribution of food packages—often without electricity or running water.

“We are constantly under fire. Explosions are a regular part of life here,” says Levitansky, director of Chabad-Lubavitch of Sumy and the region’s only rabbi. During a phone interview, the electricity in his home cut out mid-sentence.

Levitansky and his wife, Rochi, moved to Sumy in 2004 to serve the small but vibrant Jewish community. Over the years, they built a flourishing center of Jewish life: a kindergarten, a synagogue with daily services, Torah classes for men and women, and a mikvah.

“But since the war broke out in 2022, our lives have drastically changed,” he shares. “We were under siege during the early weeks, and many families fled. Our kindergarten had to close. We turned it into a humanitarian aid hub—distributing food, batteries, clothing and medicine.”

Now, as Rosh Hashanah approaches, their focus shifts once again: hosting holiday meals, preparing care packages and inviting community members to join High Holiday services, despite the ever-present danger.

“With inadequate bomb shelters and the front line so close, the circumstances are challenging,” says Levitansky. “But nothing is stopping Rosh Hashanah in Sumy.”

One local resident, Aleksander Yakovlevich, explains how vital the Chabad center has become: “We always have Chabad to turn to, no matter what’s happening. We receive daily hot kosher meals, warm clothing and blankets, and when the city had no power for 30 hours last week, we were comforted by the emergency lights and battery packs that Rabbi Levitansky handed out.”

According to the Levitanskys, the war has awakened a spiritual awareness in many. “People who were previously disengaged are now showing deep interest in their Jewish identity,” the rabbi explains. “They feel the need for connection—to each other, and to something higher. As the saying goes, there are no atheists in foxholes. We’ve seen people run for shelter with a Tehillim (Psalms) in hand.”

Chabad’s connection to Ukraine runs deep: The founder of the movement, Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi, is buried in the town of Haditch—about two hours southwest of Sumy—as is his son and successor, Rabbi Dovber, known as the Mitteler Rebbe, whose resting place in the town of Niezhin (Nizhyn), two hours northeast of Kyiv, the capital. The Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, of righteous memory, was born in Nikolayev (Mykolayev), Ukraine, and grew up in the city today known as Dnipro, where his father served as the longtime chief rabbi

Even before the Soviet Union fell in 1991, the Rebbe began sending shluchim to Ukraine to rekindle Jewish life. Today, despite the war, more than 30 cities across the country have active Chabad centers, with cities like Kyiv, Dnipro, Kharkiv and Odessa remaining home to major Jewish communities. These emissaries, like the Levitanskys, continue to exemplify strength, care and unwavering faith.

“We came here with a mission, and we are here to stay,” says Rabbi Levitansky. “This is what it means to be a shliach: to serve your community in times of peace and crisis alike. Whatever the need, we are here to help.”

Blowing the Shofar Through the Noise of War

In Kropyvnytskyi (formerly Kirovograd), a central Ukrainian city now home to many refugees, Rabbi Dan Zakuta is also preparing for the High Holy Days.

“Though we’re not directly in the war zone, our city has been filled with families who fled harder-hit areas,” he says. “Some came with nothing but the clothes on their backs. Now they need both physical help and spiritual support.”

Home to about 2,000 Jews, the community has changed dramatically since the war began. “Many left, but some have returned—finding life as a refugee even more difficult. Now, we’re helping people from all over Ukraine who have moved here.”

Despite the pressure, Zakuta and family are going full steam ahead with Rosh Hashanah preparations: distributing food, planning prayer services, arranging shofar-blowing and organizing festive meals.

“Jewish life continues,” he affirms. “It’s our duty as Chabad emissaries to be a source of strength. When you trust in G‑d, it makes the burden lighter.”

‘They Haven’t Left Us’

Local community member Dima Zhdanov agrees: “There’s a lot of pressure, but we know that Chabad is here for us. They’ve never stopped. That gives us strength.”

Rabbi Shlomo Salamon is preparing for his fourth Rosh Hashanah since the war began in Kremenchuk (or Keremchug)—and the danger is only growing.

“Just a few days ago, we heard 25 explosions nearby,” he shares. “A bridge in our city was blown up. Travel has become nearly impossible. Our Hebrew-school teachers are stuck on the other side with no safe route to reach us, but we’re trying everything to reopen.”

Despite the obstacles, the Salamons continue to serve a community of around 1,000 Jews. “We’re preparing honey cakes, food packages and shofar-blowing for everyone we can reach,” he says. “When you see how much people rely on you, you find the strength to keep going.”

For Yuri Sovolyv, a longtime Jewish resident of the city, the Salamons are a lifeline: “They haven’t left us. Their dedication has only grown. I personally feel more connected to my Jewish identity now than ever before. The Salamons are a guiding light—nothing is too difficult for them.”

With limited resources, constant threats and dwindling international attention, Ukraine’s Chabad emissaries continue to serve with courage and conviction, ensuring that they are there for their communities as a source of comfort for both physical and spiritual needs.

“If Chabad wasn’t here, there would be no Jewish life—no shofar, no prayers, no meals,” says Levitansky. “We’re doing what the Rebbe taught us to do: to make sure that no Jew is ever left behind.”