From Captivity to Continuity- The Heartbeat of a Nation

We’ve all been counting down the hours. For once, the ten-hour time difference works in our favor. It’s 8 p.m. here in LA- Pacific Standard Time, and it’s 6 a.m. Monday morning, Hoshana Raba, in Israel. Right now, they are beginning to return.

There are no images yet, but I am overwhelmed with emotion- just like Jews all around the world. It’s a complicated blend of emotions: joy, relief, a sense of victory, but also profound sadness for those who will not return alive. And through it all, a deep, endless hakarat hatov and sense of awe towards the hundreds of chayalim who gave their lives so we could reach this moment. From above, surely basking in Hashem’s glory, they too must be crying. Their mission has been fulfilled.

Anyone outside of Am Yisrael might ask: Why? Why would we exchange 20 innocent civilians for 2,000 terrorists- some with Jewish blood on their hands? There’s only one answer: Because we love them. We’ve never met them, but they are ours. By now we may know who their parents are, seen their families advocating for their release or maybe we’ve been davening for them. Each one has become our child, our sister, our brother. Their worth isn't calculated in political terms or numbers. Their worth is measured in our unwavering commitment to the value of every single Jewish Neshama, and our sense of responsibility to each member of Klal Yisroel. They are all ours.

“You are living through history,” I tell my daughter in Israel this year. “You are part of the story of our people.” The country will never be the same. Neither will she. One day, she’ll tell her children what it was like to be in Israel at this moment—to feel the energy, the unity, the achdut.

I remember the day Gilad Shalit was returned after seven years in captivity- one Israeli soldier for 1,200 prisoners. The politics didn’t matter. The atmosphere was something hard to put into words. Gilad was coming home. Banners across Jerusalem read "Kama tov shechazarta habayta"—"How good it is that you have returned home." That night at a concert, cheering erupted at the anticipation of him returning home. That energy is something I will never forget.

Now, two years later, yellow has transformed. Once a symbol of sorrow and longing, it is now infused with celebration. Signs pleading “Bring them home” are being taken down. Yellow ribbons are removed from clothing. I even attended a beard-shaving ceremony for someone who vowed not to shave until every living hostage had returned. He shaved and we cried tears of joy.

On Simchat Torah, we are reminded of a powerful lesson- what seems like the end is never really the end. We finish reading the Torah with V’zot HaBracha and immediately begin again with Bereishit. There is no pause. This demonstrates the eternity of our Torah, a Torat Chayim, a living Torah. The last letter of the last parsha is lamed, the first letter of Bereishit is bet, and together they spell lev, heart. The Torah is our beating heart, pulsing through all we live through- sorrow and renewal, never ceasing to beat.

Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch reminds us that even Moshe’s death at the end of V’Zot Habracha wasn’t an end- it was a transition. The mission passed to Yehoshua, who carried it forward. The mantle continued to be passed down and now it is ours- we carry the story onward. We begin anew. 

This message came to life powerfully this Chag. After 163 agonizing days, Rabbi Doron Peretz and his wife were finally able to bury their son, Daniel. For months, they clung to hope that he was alive. Only later did they learn he had been killed on October 7 and his body taken into Gaza. With his remains returned, he received a proper burial.

At his levaya, just two days after being freed, Matan Angrest, who had been in the same tank as Daniel came to honor him. He had fought beside Daniel, and now stood before his mefaked, commander one final time. His voice trembled with emotion as he declared, “Daniel will always be my commander. I will carry him with me for the rest of my life.” My daughter who was in attendance pointed out how the crowd erupted in spontaneous applause. This was a rare, almost unheard-of moment at a funeral. But this message from Matan was different. Amid deep sorrow for losing Daniel and the time Matan suffered in captivity, there was strength. In his words, we witnessed what it means to choose life- to begin again after so much destruction.

Even in the shadows of darkness, we are taught to rise. We don’t forget. We carry every pure

neshamah taken al Kiddush Hashem and live in their honor, stronger and more purposeful.

And that’s exactly what Yosef Chaim Ohana’s father did when he saw his son return. He cried out “Shema Yisrael” and said Shehechiyanu. That blessing wasn’t just for Yosef Chaim’s return- it was for all of us. We made it to this moment. A pure neis that they have returned!

In the wake of Simchat Torah 2023, a large group of women in LA began gathering every

Thursday night for the mitzvah of hafrashat challah. Each session filled with heartfelt tefillot and tehillim for the hostages and chayalim. Week after week, tears were shed and tefillot were said. The crowd thinned over time, but a core group remained steadfast, week after week. Last night, they gathered not in pain- but in gratitude for the miracle of the return of those we had prayed for. This time there were tears of joy, as we said Mizmor L’Todah.

But this, too, isn’t the end. Just like the Torah’s cycle, our mitzvot continue and the circle keeps turning. There is no final chapter in the Jewish story- only a new beginning. We rise and continue forward. We are the lev, the heart. And it keeps on beating.