No Access

This generation is the generation of free access to the holy burial sites of the tzaddikim. It’s the era of the charter to Lizhensk, Kerestir in style, the trip to Mezhibuzh without losing Wi-Fi. The really exotic spots, the ones that you can only get to via donkey and seaplane, pop up regularly in advertisements, suddenly mainstream destinations.

I’m not much for travel, and if I feel the need, there’s Tosh, just 20 minutes away.

A few minutes on the highway, turn left through the “shtetl,” with its sweet boys in plaid shirts riding scooters and steady stream of meshulachim from all over and its strange layout — a beis medrash at the tip and then roads going this way and that like afterthoughts — and then there’s a long, unpaved dirt road to the cemetery, where the Rebbe lies.

The previous Tosher Rebbe, Rav Meshulam Feish Lowy, was niftar just short of five years ago. As a tzaddik who danced in different worlds, a poel yeshuos like tzaddikim of old, his burial place draws masses who come hoping that he will continue to intercede for them in Shamayim.