Early this morning, 469 days after the horrific events of October 7, 2023, Israel signed a hostage release and ceasefire agreement, scheduled to take effect on Sunday. It’s impossible to adequately convey the collective sense of hope and agony many are experiencing all at once.
After 15 months, we’ve come to know many of the remaining 98 hostages and their families — some names almost as familiar as our own. For them, and for all who stand with them, the uncertainty is torturous.
We don’t know which families will be reunited and which will be grieving. We don’t know the condition of the hostages, physically or psychologically. We don't know if the proposed second and third phases of the current deal will ever come to pass. We don’t know if all the remaining hostages will ever return home.
When words fail, we find comfort and guidance in our tradition. This week’s Torah reading, Shemot (known as Exodus, although the literal translation is “Names”), is ingrained in my memory. I recited it 52 years ago at my bar mitzvah, and numerous times since.
Many have wondered why this parsha, which tells the foundational story of our redemption from slavery and the emergence of our national identity, begins with something as seemingly insignificant as a list of names:
“And these are the names of the sons of Israel who came to Egypt; with Jacob, each man and his household came:
Reuben, Simeon, Levi, and Judah.
Issachar, Zebulun, and Benjamin.
Dan and Naphtali, Gad and Asher.
Now all those descended from Jacob were seventy souls, and Joseph, [who] was in Egypt."
This week, we understand why.
For these are some of the names of the sons and daughters of Israel who were taken hostage into Gaza on October 7, women, men, and children, some entire households, others alone:
Ariel, Kfir, Shiri, and Yarden.
Sagui, Keith, and Shlomo.
Naama and Daniella, Agam and Doron.
Now all those that remain in captivity total ninety-eight souls.
There’s no more powerful a reminder that, from our earliest beginnings to the present, we are first and foremost a family of sons and daughters, fathers and mothers. Each an individual soul of infinite value created in the image of God.
A nation is its people.
We pray, please God, that this deal marks the beginning of the end of an unimaginable ordeal, with all 98 remaining hostages returned home, and the start of an era of security and rebuilding for Israel and the entire region.
Yet amid all the monumental uncertainty, one thing is abundantly clear: Our work is far from over.
Last week, I traveled to Israel with a small group of senior UJA planners to determine the next phase of our work. We thought then, even before this latest news, that with the northern ceasefire holding and military action in the south quieting, Israel was inching closer to the “day after.”
But the reality on the ground as we visited both the north and south quickly unraveled our initial premise, revealing a far more complex story.
Very few members of evacuated communities in the north have yet to return home — and it’s not clear how many ever will. In addition, a community’s proximity to the Lebanon and Gaza borders determines whether or not it receives government funding, posing a major hindrance to regional cooperation and planning. That’s where our philanthropic support has played a vital role and will continue to do so.
Well beyond these dramatic challenges, the trauma runs deep across the entire country. Everywhere we went, people talked of lost loved ones. Killed by rocket fire. Fallen in battle. Murdered on October 7. Hardened soldiers breaking down in tears. The pain still very raw.
The coming days, weeks, and months will be difficult. And even when we truly reach the “day after,” enormous effort will be required to help Israel heal, rebuild, and — as much as one can — move past the trauma.
In the immediate, watching and waiting for the release of each hostage will be excruciating for their loved ones and for the entirety of the Jewish people, who began — as Shemot reminds us — a single family, the children of Jacob.
Each name, a precious soul.
Shabbat shalom