by Rabbi Noam Marans, American Jewish Committee's Director of Interreligious Affairs
Im kol zeh achakeh lo, b’khol yom she’yavo. Though he may tarry, I will wait for her, for as long as it takes.
Our hostages’ arrival, the living for embrace, the dead for proper burial, is a day of joy for which we prayed. It mitigates but does not obviate the two years of pain and a lifetime of challenges ahead, but we will dance with abandon, nonetheless. A catharsis has arrived, a moment of thanksgiving is upon us.
Light that dispelled the darkness, goodness in the face of evil, unity in our diversity, courage, sacrifice, advocacy, accompaniment, and memory – all these and more sustained the families and all of us during the most trying years of our collective lifetimes as Jews, as human beings.
Kol Yisrael areivim. We all felt responsibility for each of our hostages, regardless of their nationality and faith. We did not allow the blindness of hate to dehumanize us.
We held fast to the words of the prophet Jeremiah chanted on Rosh Hashanah, “A cry is heard…wailing, bitter weeping, Rachel weeping for her children. She refuses to be comforted for her children, who are gone.”
“Thus said God: Restrain your voice from weeping, your eyes from shedding tears; for there is a reward for your labor…. They shall return from the enemy’s land. And there is hope for your future…. Your children shall return to their land.”
V’shavu vanim ligvulam.
As we complete the reading of the Torah on Simchat Torah and immediately turn to the beginning and start again, our Black Sabbath will turn white, even as the red stains will remain.
We are, in the words of Zechariah, “prisoners of hope.” Od lo avdah tikvateinu, l’hiyot am chofshi b’artzeinu.
Od yavoh shalom aleinu v’al kulam. We never give up on peace.
