By Ronen Bergman. On Jan 31, one month after Israel declared its third lockdown of the pandemic, Rabbi Meshulam Dovid Soloveitchik succumbed to the coronavirus at Soloveitchik was the head of the Brisk Yeshiva in Jerusalem, an elite school for ultra-Orthodox Jews , and as news of his death spread, thousands of followers prepared to mourn him. A grand funeral was required, and according to tradition, it would need to take place as soon as possible. Since the pandemic began, funerals have become a subject of intense, sometimes even violent controversy in Israel. The nation has kept its people in lockdown longer than nearly any other has, but it nevertheless has struggled with one of the highest rates of coronavirus infection.
Is ultra-Orthodox Bnei Brak Truly the Israeli City That Never Sleeps?
Seeing Inside the Israeli Ultra-Orthodox Community on the Netflix Series “Shtisel” | The New Yorker
Families in Israel have begun burying their loved ones after at least 45 people died in a crush at a crowded Jewish festival overnight. Some people were also injured at the Lag B'Omer festival, near Mount Meron, when people became trapped in an overcrowded passageway. Funerals were allowed to take place for victims who were positively identified. Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu promised that an inquiry would ensure such a tragedy did not happen again. Visiting the scene, he said it was one of the worst peacetime disasters the country had known. One survivor who gave his name as David told Ynet news it had felt like a human wave had broken: "Our bodies were swept along by themselves. People were thrown up in the air - others were crushed on the ground.
Study: Israeli-made anti-COVID nasal spray reduced infection at mass gathering
The bodies of 32 people killed in a stampede at a Jewish pilgrimage site have been identified in Israel. At least 45 people died in the crush at the Lag B'Omer festival, near Mount Meron, when they became trapped in an overcrowded passageway. Some people were injured. The identification process was paused for 24 hours late on Friday to mark the Sabbath, the Jewish day of rest. Work is expected to resume after sunset on Saturday, which ends the Sabbath.
Over the years, that envy morphed into something I can only call pity. I observed not the Haredi children but their older sisters and harried young mothers, often hidden behind a two-seat stroller. Under the unsparing Israeli sun, they wore scrimlike tights, wool sweaters, and heavy-looking wigs. They looked exhausted.