October 12, 2025

Tel Aviv: Standing at Hostage Square (Kikar Ha’Chatufim) with hundreds of thousands of people last night, the hope was palpable that soon, soon all the hostages will be freed. Yet beneath that hope was worry: that some – living or dead – might still be left behind. Several speakers urged the crowd to promise that if that happens, they will return to protest. Relative to the monsters of Hamas, Yogi Berra’s quip rings truer than ever: “It ain’t over till it’s over.” In fact, I’d add – even when it’s over, it’s still not over.

As someone in the crowd called out: “Let’s remember, even if the hostages come out, we’re releasing 250 Sinwars.” He was referring to the more than 1,000 terrorists captured and incarcerated by Israel after the October 7 attacks masterminded by Yahya Sinwar. With their release, new Sinwars will soon be plotting the next assault, fulfilling Hamas’ vow to do it again and again.

The head says this is a terrible deal. But Israel is a country of the heart – and the heart beats with the Talmudic teaching that saving one life is like saving an entire world.

The head says this is a terrible deal. But Israel is a country of the heart – and the heart beats with the Talmudic teaching that saving one life is like saving an entire world.

That was what I felt standing not far from Jared and Ivanka Kushner as they addressed the throngs at Hostage Square in Tel Aviv. Their eyes welled with soft tears, as did those of Steve Witkoff, President Trump’s envoy in the negotiations. So did mine, and the eyes of the countless others gathered there.

Over the past two years, Hostage Square has become a sacred place – a site of demonstrations, prayer vigils, and solidarity fasts. Makeshift tents ring the plaza, where families and friends of the captives welcome visitors and share their stories. Nearby stands a large tunnel replica, meant to simulate the Gaza dungeons where the hostages are held. Passersby walk through it to glimpse, however faintly, what it means to live underground. In another corner, musicians play slow, spiritual melodies. The whole setting is haunting.

Today this haunting, hopeful square has become the symbol of Israeli resilience, resolve and love. Amid Israel’s many divisions, here the words of the Psalmist ring true: “How good and how pleasant it is when brothers and sisters dwell together.” Even when Jared mentioned the suffering of innocents in Gaza, the crowd stood respectfully – feeling their pain too.

This haunting, hopeful square has become the symbol of Israeli resilience, resolve and love. Amid Israel’s many divisions, here the words of the Psalmist ring true: “How good and how pleasant it is when brothers and sisters dwell together.”

In stark contrast stand the rallies around the world that celebrate Hamas. Even October 7 is glorified, with protesters chanting the false, sick, perverted claim that Israel is committing genocide. Sometimes I wonder if they mean to say that just as Nazi genocide gave Israel to the Jews, their fake claim – the false genocide in Gaza – will somehow win it back. The difference, of course, is glaring: it is Hamas – using civilians as human shields, fighting from hospitals and schools – who are inflicting horrors upon its own people, while the Jews suffered a real genocide at the hands of the Nazis.

As I write these words, Israelis wait – excited but apprehensive, poised between joy and mourning. The father of one hostage killed in captivity was the last to speak at the massive rally. “As the hostages return,” he said, “I will celebrate with you as your loved ones come home. But then, eilech la’avel sheli – I will go to my mourning, escorting my son on his final journey, to bury him with love.”

For all the pain of these past two years – the loss of two thousand lives, including hundreds of soldiers who died and were wounded to save the hostages – last night at Hostage Square felt like one of the most hopeful moments in Israel’s history.

May it be, may it be, for the good.

Hope abounds in Israel that in the next 24 hours the hostages will be released and a greater peace will finally come to the region. Political pundits agree that it was Arab countries who made the difference — pressuring Hamas to sign on.

This analysis brought to mind a comment made to me by my cab driver Effie, as we rode from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem. Responding to my confession that even as a staunch supporter of Israel, I was exhausted seeing the world increasingly treat Israel as a pariah state,  he said that often what seems to be is not the reality.

Half-jokingly, but with absolute candor, he went on, “Israel today is the pilegesh [the biblical mistress] of Arab states. That’s how the Arab governments see us. They rely on us — even admire us — but don’t want anyone to know about the relationship. You’ll see — in sync with Israel, many Arab countries will turn on Hamas, preferring it be utterly degraded.”

Cabbies in Israel are famous as political sages, and Effie’s analogy is hard to shake. As a rabbi for more than 50 years, I’ve done my share of pastoral counseling. One guiding principle I carry into those conversations is the word WAIT —- Why Am I Talking? The key is to listen, because the deeper, unspoken message is often the opposite of what’s being said aloud.

By that measure, the Arab world’s rhetoric is easy to decode. On the surface, Arab capitals rail against Israel. Scratch that surface, and the truth emerges.

The Arab world’s rhetoric is easy to decode. On the surface, Arab capitals rail against Israel. Scratch that surface, and the truth emerges.

Saudi Arabia offers the clearest example of this phenomenon. As a key adversary of Iran and its proxies, including Hamas, the kingdom welcomes any blow to Tehran’s power. Its official condemnations of Israel’s strikes on Iranian assets are ritual performances; privately, Riyadh breathes a sigh of relief. The Saudis dread Iran’s Shiite extremism but lack the capacity – or the courage – to confront it directly. Israel, their discreet “mistress,” carries out the work they dare not do.

The same is true in Cairo. President Sisi came to power by overthrowing the Muslim Brotherhood; Hamas is its Palestinian branch. Publicly, Egypt denounces Israel’s war. Privately, it is grateful.

Jordan’s king follows the same script. He knows Hamas threatens his Hashemite throne – just as Palestinian militants of the Black September era nearly toppled his father in the 1970s, until Israel intervened to save him.

Lebanon, too, for all its criticism, understands that no country can survive with two competing armies. Israel’s blows against Hezbollah have, for the first time, raised the possibility that Lebanon’s own military might finally stand as the nation’s sole armed force.

The Trump Gaza peace plan made the subtext explicit: many Arab states endorsed a framework that would defeat Hamas, demilitarize Gaza, humiliate its cowardly leaders, and free the hostages. Their normative outrage against Israel is theater. Their true interest is stability.

Effie’s metaphor rings true. Hidden affairs rarely stay hidden. A significant portion of the Arab world knows its wellbeing depends on the downfall of Iran and its proxies, Hamas and Hezbollah foremost among them.

And that victory is possible only through alliance with Israel: the pilegesh they once tried to keep secret, but can no longer deny.

Between Sukkot and Simchat Torah, the Jewish people live in a rhythm of fragility and faith. We dwell in temporary shelters, then step into eternal covenant, dancing with the Torah as though nothing could ever shake us. Yet this year, that dance feels suspended — a breath held since October 7.

On the day meant for joy, music turned to sirens. At the Nova music festival, young Jews came together to dance and were murdered for being alive, for being Jewish. Almost two years later, as the world speaks of cease-fires and negotiations, we are still waiting to bring home our sons and daughters — to dance again, not at a concert, but in a circle of life.

Israel stands once more at an excruciating crossroads. Hamas demands new concessions, new releases of the very terrorists whose hands are stained with the blood of innocents. The world debates with distance, but Israel bears the unbearable choice — to release killers in order to save even one captive. Yet our Torah does not hesitate: “Whoever saves one life, it is as if they have saved an entire world.”

Our enemies interpret compassion as weakness. But to choose life — pikuach nefesh — is our strength, the moral heartbeat of Am Yisrael. We do not worship death; we sanctify life, even when it breaks us.

There is a story told from the Holocaust: Jews in hiding on Simchat Torah, bereft of a Sefer Torah, lifted their children and declared, “Our children are our Torah.” They danced with them in the darkness. Today that image returns — not as metaphor, but as memory and mission. We pray to lift our children again, whole and free, not as symbols of survival but as the living scrolls of our people.

This Simchat Torah, Israel may still be negotiating in the shadow of evil. Yet the sukkah remains standing — fragile walls, open roof, infinite faith. We decorate in blue and white, because we are one people with one beating heart. And we whisper the promise that has carried us through exile, persecution, and war: Am Yisrael Chai.

We will dance again — not blindly, not forgetting, but because joy is our defiance and life itself is our victory.