Today, the 21st of Adar, marks the yahrzeit memorial day of Rabbi Elimelech of Leżajsk (Lizhensk). Last night (Thursday), a grand hilula ceremony was held near his grave in the Polish town of Lizhensk.

Rabbi Elimelech passed away 249 years ago at the age of 70. Every year, on his yahrzeit, thousands—sometimes tens of thousands—of Jews from around the world make the pilgrimage to his resting place. Throughout the year, his grave remains a major spiritual destination for the religious community. In the Hasidic world, his yahrzeit is regarded with the utmost reverence, akin to Yom Kippur, and Hasidim refrain from reciting the Tachanun prayer on this day.

Lizhensk, a small town in southeastern Poland with fewer than 15,000 residents. However, on the eve of Rabbi Elimelech's yahrzeit, Lizhensk transforms. More Jewish visitors fill its streets than its actual residents.  The streets, normally quiet, overflow with Hasidim clad in kapotes and shtreimels, their faces alight with anticipation for these sacred moments. It feels as if the very ground trembles beneath their feet, as though it, too, senses the sanctity of the occasion.

The Jewish cemetery, perched on a hillside, is enclosed by a black iron fence stretching between red-brick pillars. The crisp night air carries the scent of damp earth among the ancient gravestones. The heavy black gate swings open, revealing a world of tears, hope, and fervent prayers. Rabbi Elimelech’s grave lies about 70 meters from the entrance, marked by an original concrete matzevah from 1776. At its center, a square indentation painted gold bears an inscription in black: "Here lies our master and teacher, the godly man, Rabbi Elimelech ben Rabbi Elazar Lipman, of blessed memory. Passed away on the 21st of Adar, 1776."

Encircling the grave is an iron fence painted gold, where visitors tuck their kvitlach—handwritten prayer notes filled with supplications.

Above the matzevah, a large Ohel (tomb structure) made of bricks houses three rooms. The central chamber, covering the grave itself, is lined with beige marble. Two adjoining rooms—one for men, one for women—offer space for worshippers. From the outside, the Ohel is stark white, but within, it is a sanctuary of deep emotion. Inside, men and women pray, their eyes shut in concentration, lips murmuring endless prayers. A muffled sob escapes from the corner. Every so often, a raw cry of anguish bursts forth from among the crowd, and deep sighs ripple through the women’s section.

The hilula at Rabbi Elimelech’s grave continues until the early hours of the night. Hasidim believe that prayers at his tomb invoke great salvations. This is a time of divine favor, a moment when the righteous intercede, hands uplifted, blessing those who seek his merit, listening to their supplications, and advocating for them in the heavenly courts. Indeed, his presence is almost tangible. Something indescribable lingers in the air. an aura of sanctity, a warmth that defies the chill of the night.

Poland is bitterly cold at this time of year. At night, temperatures hover around zero degrees Celsius. Most of the snow has already melted, leaving behind a landscape of muddy, uneven ground. Low-hanging clouds drape the sky like a heavy gray scarf. The bare trees, stripped of their leaves, stretch their skeletal branches heavenward, as if silently joining in prayer. Yearning, too, to absorb the atmosphere of holiness.

The Ohel structure standing today is not the original. During World War II, the Germans destroyed the first Ohel and attempted to desecrate Rabbi Elimelech’s grave, but they did not succeed. When they opened the burial site, they discovered his coffin intact. To their astonishment, inside lay his body, preserved as if it had just been placed in the earth. In 1960, the Ohel was rebuilt.

In preparation for the hilula, large white tents with cone-shaped roofs have been set up. Inside, tables are lined with steaming pots of soup to warm frozen hands and weary bodies. A large urn stands ready for hot coffee and tea. Some tents also offer bowls of fresh vegetables, fruits, and light refreshments like cookies. Separate tents for men and women, while another is designated for Cohanim, who are prohibited from approaching graves. A separate tent serves as a storage space for personal belongings.

Walking through the streets of Lizhensk, it is striking to see signs in Hebrew script in this small Polish town. Most are in Yiddish rather than Hebrew, adding to the surreal blend of past and present.

Most of the Hasidim who have come to honor Rabbi Elimelech are clad in long kapotes, with furry shtreimels perched atop their heads. Amid the sea of fur hats I also noticed quite a few knitted kippot. The dancing spills into the streets, an eruption of joy and devotion.

The local police officers, stationed to secure the event, watch in amazement. They observe this lively, otherworldly "carnival" unfolding before their eyes, baffled by the unfamiliar figures who have gathered here to perform such an unusual ritual. To them, these visitors in long coats and fur hats are a mystery. They do not know who "Noam Elimelech" was.

And do you?…

The Personal Story

The story of Rabbi Elimelech began nearly 300 years ago in the town of Lopykhova, in northern Poland. One day, a poor leprous man arrived in town, his body covered in repulsive sores. No one was willing to take him in, except for one righteous woman. Moved by compassion, she welcomed him into her home and tended to his wounds with unwavering kindness.

But this "poor man" was no ordinary beggar. He was none other than the prophet Eliyahu (Elijah). In gratitude for her selfless care, he blessed her with a remarkable promise: she would give birth to four righteous sons. The youngest of them was Rabbi Elimelech. The eldest was Rabbi Zusha, who was 15 years older than him.

As they grew older, Zusha went to study under the Maggid of Mezritch, the great disciple of the Baal Shem Tov, founder of Hasidism. He later brought his younger brother Elimelech to learn there as well. At that time, it was widely believed that suffering atoned for sins. Embracing this belief, the "Holy Brothers"—Zusha and Elimelech—chose a life of asceticism and self-imposed exile, wandering for eight years from town to town.

Everywhere they went, they uplifted the Jewish people, bringing them closer to our Father in Heaven. They strengthened faith, inspired hope, and gave encouragement to the downtrodden, those whom the great rabbis of the time often overlooked. They never spent two consecutive nights in the same place, relying solely on divine providence for sustenance. Each night, they would rise for Tikkun Chatzot, the midnight lamentation over the destruction of the Temple. At dawn, they would resume their journey, taking no provisions with them.

Through these years of wandering, they became intimately familiar with the struggles and spiritual needs of the simple Jewish people. This deep understanding would later shape Rabbi Elimelech’s leadership and the Hasidic movement as a whole.

Wherever they traveled, the brothers concealed their true identities. But eventually, Rabbi Elimelech decided the time had come to step forward and guide the Jewish people in their service of God through the Hasidic path, as he had learned from the Maggid of Mezritch.

It is well known that the Baal Shem Tov founded Hasidism, and his successor was the Maggid of Mezritch. After the Maggid’s passing, Rabbi Elimelech was recognized as the leader of the Hasidic world. His brother, Rabbi Zusha, settled in Anipoli, while Rabbi Elimelech made his home in Lizhensk, a town that thanks to his presence, became the spiritual heart of Polish Hasidism.

The Book 'Noam Elimelech'

Noam Elimelech is widely regarded as one of the most significant works in Hasidic thought. Even today, it remains a cornerstone of study in Hasidic yeshivot, as well as in some Zionist yeshivot. Many Jews around the world follow the custom of studying this book every Shabbat.

It is generally accepted that Rabbi Elimelech Weisblum authored Noam Elimelech, but this isn’t entirely accurate. Rabbi Elimelech did not write the book himself; instead, he spoke the teachings within it. Every Shabbat, he would deliver a sermon on the weekly Torah portion. After Shabbat, on Saturday nights, his son, Rabbi Eliezer, would then write down what he remembered from the sermon and bring the text to his father for approval. For instance, what we read in Noam Elimelech on this week's Torah portion, Vayakhel, is not a single coherent passage, but rather a collection of teachings delivered by Rabbi Elimelech over many Shabbatot spanning two decades. This format is true for many other Torah portions in the book as well.

Today, Noam Elimelech is also regarded as a spiritual remedy, or "Segulah," for healing. Some have the custom of placing the book under the pillow of a sick person or a woman in labor, believing it helps ease the pain of childbirth.

Rabbi Elimelech was a humble man and did not allow his teachings to be printed during his lifetime. As a result, the first edition of Noam Elimelech was published posthumously a year after his passing. However, during his life, Rabbi Elimelech did publish a small booklet titled Tzetel Katan ("A Small Note"), which contains ethical guidelines and halachic advice.

Lizhensk and Its Surroundings

In the summer, Lizhensk comes alive with vibrant energy, almost as if celebrating life itself. The trees bloom in full splendor, their lush green leaves swaying in the gentle breeze. The air is rich with the scent of damp earth and the sweet fragrance of flowers, which paint the pathways in a myriad of colors. Green shrubs stretch out in all directions, while colorful flowers add beauty to the streets. The clear waters of the San River flow quietly through the town, its surface reflecting the sky like a glass mirror.

Yet, despite all this natural beauty, Lizhensk remains serene and somewhat drowsy. It is a small town with little to offer Jewish tourists, beside the sacred Ohel of Noam Elimelech, which provides livelihood for some local residents. The only other notable tourist attraction is the ancient Bernardine Basilica, which draws both locals and non-Jewish visitors. The basilica’s basement houses a small museum, home to rows of old icons and ancient engravings, silent witnesses to the passage of time.

Near Lizhensk lies the city of Rzeszów, once known as the "City of Moses" for its rich Jewish heritage. Today, Rzeszów is home to restored synagogues and other Jewish heritage sites. The city also boasts an airport that previously hosted direct flights from Israel. The local tourism office has created a "Jewish Heritage Route", which I highly recommend exploring.

Another must-visit site is the synagogue in nearby Łańcut, where Rabbi Yaakov Yitzchak HaLevi Horowitz, a disciple of Rabbi Elimelech, once served as rabbi. The synagogue where he prayed and taught remains preserved today. Rabbi Horowitz later moved to Lublin, where he became known as "The Seer of Lublin" due to his extraordinary ability to perceive the past of those who came seeking his blessing.

Pilgrimage to Lizhensk

Before the COVID-19 pandemic, the anniversary of Rabbi Elimelech’s passing was marked by an “airlift” of dozens of charter flights from Ben Gurion Airport to Rzeszów, which is only a 45-minute drive from Lizhensk. Many Israelis also flew via Kraków, about a two-hour drive away, or Warsaw, which is nearly five hours away. Some flights would even wait at the airport until passengers finished praying and visiting the gravesite, almost like Uman on Rosh Hashanah.

May the merit of the righteous Rabbi Elimelech protect us and our descendants, and may he advocate for the well-being of all of Israel, today and always.

Photos credit: Polish Tourism תOrganisation, Jakub Ochnio, and Jacob Maor