We’ve all watched the videos and have been deeply moved by the sight of newly released Israeli hostages rushing into the arms of their mothers, fathers, wives, siblings. Our hearts and tears overflow seeing these reunions. We are profoundly grateful they are finally safe, prisoners no more. We pray they will heal physically and psychologically from their captivity in hell.
On Jan. 19 of this year, Romi Gonen, Emily Damari and Doron Steinbrecher were reunited with their mothers before meeting up with the rest of their families. Crying so hard she could barely get the words out, a severely injured Romi spoke to her father via FaceTime, saying, “Abba, I returned alive!”
On one hand, these incredibly emotional reunions are intimate private moments, yet they have been shared with the entire world. I can’t be the only one who is simultaneously moved by them while also feeling a bit like a voyeur. Shouldn’t these men and women have the right to a little privacy during these life-changing moments? When they hug and kiss their closest loved ones for the first time in months, or well over a year? These are nothing less than scenes of rebirth, a fervently prayed-for second chance at life.
Judaism puts a premium on privacy, of keeping a separation between public and private spheres. When we uncover what is meant to be private, we dilute its power. This is one reason for the laws of tzniut, awkwardly translated as modesty but more accurately meaning discretion. It’s connected most often with women’s clothing, but tzniut applies to men and women, not only regarding how we dress, but how we speak and behave.
While our ancestors traveled in the desert after leaving Egypt, their tents were organized to ensure a maximum of family privacy: no one’s tent entrance directly faced another person’s tent entrance. In today’s video-centric, oversharing society, it’s easy to lose sight of the value in keeping private moments private. That’s why I felt conflicted about watching these hostage reunion videos. These moments don’t belong to me.
Or do they? For a year and a half, we have felt anguish for our brothers and sisters killed or taken hostage by terrorists. We have experienced déjà vu that we were again victims of Holocaust-era atrocities, including seeing gaunt and half-starved survivors rising from their shackles in dark tunnels. Never again was happening again. Can any of us ever forget the look of shock and horror on the face of Shiri Bibas, holding onto her two babies, Ariel and Kfir, as they were dragged away by murderous thugs? We will carry these images forever.
On Oct. 7, 2023, we became one people as never before. At unimaginable cost, we became one family, political and religious divisions cast aside. With our hearts broken yet determined to continue to choose life, every family of every hostage became our family. Every family of a fallen or injured IDF soldier became our family. We cried for them, prayed for them, campaigned for them, posted their photos on our social media feeds, reminded the world about them, wore their names on our necklaces, named children after the fallen. Personally, I wrote articles about inspiring people such as war widow Hadas Lowenstern, organizations offering social, logistical, financial and emotional support to displaced Israelis and others in need, about learning to tie tzitzit (very inexpertly) for the IDF, and more. Nothing felt like enough, but each action made me feel like I was taking some responsibility, as family members need to do.
Seeing these precious, and yes, intimate moments is a balm to our bruised souls. It is a way for us to share in these agonizingly long overdue moments of victory while giving us more strength for the fight still ahead.
I still like I’m a bit of a snoop while I watch these reunion videos, but I decided it’s okay to watch them, because I’m part of the family, too. Seeing these precious, and yes, intimate moments is a balm to our bruised souls. It is a way for us to share in these agonizingly long overdue moments of victory while giving us more strength for the fight still ahead.
May all remaining hostages be released immediately and may God protect our people and our land.
Judy Gruen is the author of “Bylines and Blessings,” “The Skeptic and the Rabbi,” and other books. She is also a book editor and writing coach.
