Over a year has passed since the last – and until now, only – hostage deal in which 50 Israeli hostages who were brutally taken on Oct. 7, 2023, were returned to their families' embrace. The ceasefire took effect on the morning of Nov. 24 – my birthday – and my wish and that of the Israeli people came true. I remember the exhilaration, the tears in my eyes, the surreal sight of loved ones reuniting with their families in heart-wrenching cries. Now, after months of grueling rallies at Tel Aviv's Hostages Square and endless waves of pain from the hostages' families, what we had longed for was finally announced. Yet somehow, I found myself unsettled.
I tried to understand why. While countless others shared the deal announcement on social media, jubilant and excited about the first phase that began last Sunday, I was certainly moved, but more subdued than usual. The authorities are preparing to receive the waves of hostage releases, the families of those to be released are within touching distance of breathing again, and I remain emotionally paralyzed.
Touching distance is a phrase that encapsulates the catastrophe of the past 15 months. The touching distance between Gaza and Israel's southern communities and the Nova festival led to the worst tragedy we have known. That same touching distance that separates the hostages from their homes, from their families who tearfully called out their loved ones' names through megaphones at the Gaza border, hoping they could hear. And now that same touching distance is the gray area that terrifies me – it represents everything that could go wrong.
The harsh truth is that the torment continues beyond the deal-signing process – which dragged on endlessly over months and particularly this past month – even after signing the deal. Initially, there were reports of new conditions Hamas imposed regarding Palestinian security prisoners set to be released, which undermined the deal's validity. Subsequently, the deal's phases were revealed, detailing the small numbers of hostages to be released every few days, with no clear report about their condition. It remains uncertain if they will return alive or in coffins.
Later, Hamas failed to provide Israel with the names of the first three female hostages to be released due to "technical difficulties on the ground," and in exceptional torture for the families, remembered to do so only hours before the release, along with threats that the second wave of hostages would be delayed by a day due to the "late release" of the Palestinian terrorists by Israel, according to Hamas.
And if reading these lines fills you with anguish and distress, I cannot begin to fathom what the families are experiencing. Families who for 15 months have been crying for help now have secured the deal that they, and many supporters at the hostage rallies, demanded. A deal that might bring uncontainable joy to some families, while others face the torment of searching the list only to find their loved ones' names absent. And most heartbreaking of all, for some families, this deal arrived a few months too late.
However, each hostage's return represents a ray of hope – every life brought home is a world restored, a family made whole again. Of course, there's no point in debating whether this is a "good deal." How could there be a "good deal" when any of the 250 kidnapped souls remain in captivity? But, as I hope for even the slightest healing for the returning hostages and their families, I cannot help but ask – what comes next?
With grimly familiar timing, just before the ceasefire took effect, a 19-year-old terrorist carried out a stabbing attack in Tel Aviv, targeting an ordinary citizen who was simply trying to enjoy his rest day – an attack that laid bare the raw hatred fueling such acts of terror. Mere days after the ceasefire began, another attack occurred in one of Tel Aviv's busy nightlife areas. This reality confronts us with a brutal truth – the cycle of suffering will not end with this deal. Not in its implementation, nor in what follows. Of course, we cannot contemplate the future, even the immediate future, until the hostages return – but the helplessness that has defined these past 15 months shows no signs of ending – both in our efforts to bring our people home and in our struggle to maintain basic security within our borders.
From that cursed day until now, life as we knew it ceased to exist. Our sense of security – even after years of navigating an unstable reality – shattered completely. The realization that we lack control over our own lives or those of our loved ones has painfully penetrated our consciousness. We are subject to a "Russian roulette" in every aspect, in every second and minute of each day and week, so that any expectation, faith, or hope awakens in me with caution, and it appears many share this sentiment.
The State of Israel breathed a collective sigh of relief these past two weeks upon hearing "the hostages are in Israeli hands," accompanied by floods of tears. "This is the saddest happiness I've ever experienced," Chen Goldstein, a former hostage who endured the horror of watching Hamas terrorists murder her husband and eldest daughter on Oct. 7 before being taken captive herself, said. I told myself how crucial it is that the images of the girls embraced tightly by their families be etched in our memory, because as every news channel reminded us, "difficult days lie ahead."
I desperately want to celebrate these moments of victory. If only the sense of relief and joy at witnessing the hostages' release from hell, and reuniting with their families could feel like sustained euphoria. But tragedy coexists with these moments, just as Agam Berger remains the sole female IDF observer – among the five who were kidnapped – left behind in Hamas captivity; Just as the Bibas family knows only that there is "grave concern" for the lives of their loved ones held in Gaza, as IDF Spokesperson Brigadier General Daniel Hagari stated; Just as this agreement doesn't signify a "done deal" but rather forces us to anxiously watch each phase unfold.
We cannot truly breathe again until every family learns the fate of their loved ones taken hostage. But I question, as has been repeatedly suggested, whether we can focus on "beginning to recover." What and who can guarantee that Oct. 7 won't recur? How can the hostages, their families, and every Israeli citizen restore their faith that they won't be snatched away by bloodthirsty terrorists, leaving their fate unknown? Was the tremendous loss of the past 15 months sacrificed for a transformed reality?
Despite my deep appreciation for the agreement and the role that returning US President Donald Trump played in it, despite his desire to "end the chaos in the Middle East," the ceasefire and hostage release agreement will not miraculously do that. And just as crucially as making sure they're all home, when the moment arrives, we must consider what will.
