It’s October 10, 2025, and we’re in the in-between. A clock of 72 hours ticks, for a ceasefire, for the return of all the hostages, after the Israeli cabinet approved the deal negotiated by President Trump.
Yesterday, an unseasonal rain fell on what has been, for the past two years in Israel, Hostage Square. Einav Zangauker, mother of hostage Matan Zangauker and an indefatigable icon of the fight for the hostages, wept tears of happiness as the sky opened. I wept with her, tears of hope the likes of which I haven’t wept in two years.
It makes sense that this war might (pupupu, kinehora) end with 72 hours of uncertainty — in some ways very much the way it began. I remember October 7 and its terrifying, horrific, chasm-creating uncertainty. At first, we thought it was another day of rocket fire like the ones Israelis had unfortunately grown used to, which would end with a few runs to the shelter and hopefully no casualties. But then came the images, the panic of people calling in with horror stories, with pleas for help. Vivian Silver — who three days earlier marched for peace — calling into a radio program from her safe room before she was eventually killed. Ella Ben-Ami calling in to say she had seen a photo of her father in Gaza after losing contact with her parents.
For Israelis, and for Jews in America and beyond, October 7 turned our world upside down. For two years, so many of us wished for this war to end, for the hostages to come back, for the suffering of Israelis and of Palestinians to end. Many of us have marched in the streets, have given money, have worn necklaces, shirts and pins to remind people of the plight of the hostages. There have been many, many moments of helplessness in these two years.
Which is why I think it’s hard to feel euphoria at this moment. When we asked the Kveller audience how they were feeling this week, the most the majority of them could muster is “cautiously optimistic.” Hope is a hard thing to hold firm, and it has become harder to grasp for the past two years as we’ve seen so, so much hate, so, so much despair. Some of us are understandably choosing not to feel excited and joyful until we see all the hostages come home.
But it’s hard not to tear up at the images of hostage families celebrating in anticipation of seeing their loved ones.
I keep gravitating back to a little known song to gently cradle the bittersweetness of this moment: “Anashim Tovim” (Good People) by Aya Zehavi Feiglin.
She sings it on stage in the dark, strumming her guitar, the music of a string quartet gently rising behind her, making the song into the quiet prayer I need in this moment.
“We are good people/There is evil in the world/There is evil in me/But at the end of the day, I know/I know, honey/We are good people.
