He doesn’t know any of the hostages personally. He doesn’t have to.
Ever since the nightmare of Oct. 7, 2023, he’s been praying, yearning, protesting, imploring, marching… doing anything that might help draw attention to the plight of his fellow Israelis languishing in Hamas hell.
Now, he says, “I’m breathing again.”
There are so many things to write about since President Trump announced a ceasefire deal that would free the hostages: How it took a power-hungry, bullying dealmaker to make it happen; how Turkey and other countries played a key role; what this deal means for Netanyahu’s political future; the reaction of his extremist coalition partners; whether Hamas will indeed disarm and allow others to take over; the prospect for expansion of the Abraham Accords; how hypocritical Israel-haters who’ve been screaming for a ceasefire are still screaming against Israel; and so on.
My Israeli friend would have none of it.
“For now,” he wrote in an email, “I’m going to put aside all my anxieties about the future,” including how “the hate that’s been unleashed against us around the world is now a permanent part of Jewish life.”
There are other anxieties, I’m sure, that can put a damper on this moment.
But “all of that is on hold,” my friend wrote.
I wouldn’t be surprised if many of us are feeling the same way.
Consider the cause of the hostages.
How many times over the past two years have we seen people wear pins and other mementos in their honor?
How many hostage posters have been put up? How many videos of family members have we seen that pleaded for their release? How many prayers have been made, events, speeches, gatherings, films, exhibits, you name it.
Have we ever seen a cause in our time that has captured more Jewish hearts around the world?
That’s why many of us right now have trouble concentrating on much else. We’ve waited and prayed for too long. Like our brethren in Israel, we’re counting the days, the hours, the minutes until we can see their liberated faces, until we can see the hugs.
The hugs will come. So will the tears.
Everything else can wait.
We’re breathing again.
