It has been 72 hours since the three young Israeli women returned home to Israel, from the horrendous captivity of the Hamas tunnels and hideouts. The excitement still hasn’t subsided for me. I know that in a few days, we’ll move into a different phase, and as time passes, things will only become more complicated. Ninety-four captives were left behind— 4 more women are due to be released Saturday. It is quite clear that of those left behind more or less half are no longer alive- nobody knows for sure.
The excitement knows no bounds. Since October 7, 2023, this country, Israel, has not been the same- the terror and trauma of the events, the long and painful war, all that has transpired... the emotional roller coaster of these last 15-16 months erupted in a few hours in which men, women and children sat with tears flowing down their faces, tears of unbridled emotions, a feeling of supreme joy mixed with sadness and grief—pain for what these young women endured for 471 unimaginable days, and for all the brothers and sisters, sons and daughters of "all of us" who remain behind. I speak of “the people of Israel”, but I speak totally and completely of myself as well. I found myself deeply absorbed in the drama, the anxiety, anticipation and deep gratefulness that these families would have their daughters back. They were innocent victims of violence that was not aimed at them personally, but they have paid the personal price for it. My heart aches for them. Earlier today, Romi, one of the women who was released wrote on social media- “There is life after death.”
This has been human moment of joy, pride, and compassion. It has come too late, but it is still a fulfillment of the fundamental Jewish value of redeeming captives. It embodies the deep values of the Israeli ethos: mutual responsibility and solidarity. We don’t abandon others—but the fact is, they were abandoned, time and again. We sit as we try to navigate between gratitude for what has occurred and anger and disappointment for how long it took and what has still to happen for those left behind. Too late, too little, but it happened. In these moments, one can breathe and feel a small sense of pride. At this moment, I feel proud to be an Israeli, that my country has done what is must do, despite the price it needs to pay.
What moved me no less has nothing to do with Judaism or Israel, but rather the sheer emotion seen and heard from people across the globe. The release of Romi, Emily, and Doron has touched people not only in Israel and amongst Jewish people all over, but it has touched human beings throughout our globe. All over the world, people followed this story with interest and profound anticipation. I wonder: why should people in India, China, or Africa care about this story? This event is not “theirs”, it does not impact them directly and ostensibly it has no direct connection to their lives. Then why do we see tears rolling down the cheek of a woman watching the release on television on the other side of the world—a woman who isn’t Jewish, isn’t Israeli, and barely understands anything about our conflict?
It moves me to see that this universal, emotional story touches people because, as human beings, we likely possess a basic compassion for the suffering of others, even without knowing "the other." There’s something within us that connects to our shared humanity. We hope for compassion, goodness, justice and life, without having to know too much more.
The situation of the kidnapped women evokes universal identification because it speaks to basic fears we all have—losing freedom, security, and dignity. Seeing someone released from such horrifying situations sparks hope and relief, as we imagine ourselves or our loved ones in their place.
There’s no denying that the fact these were young women adds another layer. Young women in captivity often represent innocence violated and unjust suffering caused by conflict. Their release symbolizes not just freedom but also the restoration of humanity and its inherent goodness.
I want to believe that when we witness something like this, something deep within us awakens—the existential feeling that we live in a world beyond our control, but with enough determination, we can still uncover glimpses of goodness in it.
This is a moment of hope amid a harsh reality. Where there is life, there is hope, and where there is hope, there is life. In such moments we share our hearts because that’s what makes us human beings with values—Jewish, Israeli, but let us not forget—human values.
This is a moment of "existential humanity that transcends borders." Let’s not forget that such moments exist. I am proud to be a human being in these moments. Even amidst all the violence, hate, pain and grief, these moments do exist- for us to cherish, thank and hope for more and for all.
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