January 19, 2025|י"ט טבת ה' אלפים תשפ"ה From Despair to Prayer: Reflections on the Hostage Crisis By Rabbi Jonathan Muskat

We are all anxiously awaiting the release of the first hostages, which, please God, will begin on Sunday. In the coming days, we must prepare ourselves for an overwhelming flood of emotions. Our hearts will rejoice in the freedom of the 33 hostages we have come to know and love over the past fifteen months—Romi Gonen, Arbel Yehud, Shlomo Mantzur, Agam Berger, Ofer Kalderon, Ariel Bibas, Kfir Bibas, Shiri Bibas, at least those who are alive. At the same time, however, we will inevitably feel disgust and anger as we witness photos of released terrorists celebrating, and Hamas members praising the atrocities of October 7th, further emboldened by their apparent victory.

I can’t even begin to imagine the anxiety that our brothers and sisters in Israel must be experiencing. Who is alive, and who is not? Will Kfir and Ariel Bibas return safely with their mother Shiri, or will we learn of a tragic fate? There will be immense sadness for those who will not return alive, and for those who survive but carry the scars of unimaginable trauma and suffering after fifteen months in captivity. And there’s the haunting thought that others, still alive, may have perished because the deal wasn’t struck sooner. The anxiety is compounded by the phased nature of the agreement—what if the remaining hostages are never freed after this first stage?

This leads me to a question I’ve been grappling with all week: Is our heart leading us astray in this deal? In the first phase, Israel is set to release as many as two thousand terrorists from prison—many of whom will undoubtedly return to terror once freed. If Israel withdraws from Gaza as part of the deal, won’t this empower Hamas to rebuild and rearm, ultimately leading to more attacks on Israel? It’s very likely that, in the long term, more lives will be lost than saved by this agreement. Take, for example, Yahya Sinwar, one of the 1,027 terrorists released for Gilad Shalit. Was that a wise decision?

How should we, as Torah Jews, view this deal? Honestly, I don’t have a definitive answer. There are so many layers to this painful dilemma. But let me share a perspective I’ve been wrestling with, while acknowledging my own limitations as a rabbi living outside of Israel, and not being a military or political expert.

Many of us are familiar with the Mishnah in Masechet Gittin (45a), which says we should not overpay to redeem captives, because doing so would encourage more kidnappings. This, however, was not in a wartime context—it referred to kidnappings for ransom. But what about wartime kidnappings? Is the situation different?

What does it mean to "overpay" in this context? Suppose the experts agree that this deal, by releasing so many terrorists, will likely lead to more Israeli deaths than it saves lives. Does that mean we are overpaying? Is this a deal that, in the long run, makes us more vulnerable? These are difficult questions we must wrestle with.

In 1976, following the hijacking of Air France Flight 139, the families of the hostages asked Rabbi Ovadia Yosef whether Israel should negotiate with terrorists in exchange for the hostages' release. Rabbi Ovadia Yosef ruled that Israel should, as the immediate danger to the hostages outweighed the long-term risks posed by releasing terrorists. His position was based on Tosafot, who permit "overpaying" for captives if their lives are in imminent danger. His logic was that the need to save lives now trumps future concerns.

However, such a policy isn’t always clear-cut. How far do we go in making these calculations? Should we risk thousands of lives in the future to save just one life now? These are profoundly difficult questions.

Maybe, in the end, this is the only way forward for Israel. Since October 7th, Israel has been in a state of va’ye’ma’en Yaakov le’hitnachem, where Yaakov refused to be comforted over Yosef’s disappearance. Rashi explains that Yaakov couldn’t be comforted because Yosef was still alive. There was no closure. The State of Israel, too, cannot move forward until there is closure. Although Israel is probably in a stronger military position now, relative to its neighbors in the Middle East, than at any time in its history—perhaps even stronger than immediately after the Six-Day War—there is a sense of paralysis. Could the massive protests to bring back the hostages at any cost have weakened Israel’s negotiating stance, forcing it to pay a higher price? Probably. Could a strong leader tell the Israeli public that saving the hostages isn’t worth the price and that it’s better for the country to sacrifice them for the greater good? Perhaps, but that mindset doesn’t exist in Israel right now. Would we like the reality about how most Israelis feel about a hostage release to be different? Maybe. But it’s not. The overwhelming connection to the hostages is too personal. People cannot move on without knowing their loved ones are freed.

I might argue that this is not simply a halachic question of saving people now versus the possibility of casualties in the future. Maybe a hostage deal is actually saving more lives because it may be the only way that the country can move forward as a unified whole.

There’s another perspective to consider. In 1984, the Jibril Agreement saw Israel release 1,150 terrorists in exchange for three soldiers captured in Lebanon. Rabbi Shlomo Goren opposed the deal, fearing it would embolden terrorists and encourage more kidnappings. But Rabbi Hayyim David Halevi, then Chief Rabbi of Tel Aviv, defended the deal. He argued that the terrorists would continue to kidnap Jews regardless of Israel’s actions. His main argument, however, was that the very fact that Israel would go to any length to free a soldier provides morale to the army. Soldiers will fight with greater resolve, knowing they will not be abandoned. The long-term impact of such a prisoner exchange may result in more Israeli deaths, but the long-term benefit is a stronger, more committed fighting force that will defend Israel with greater courage and resolve—ultimately saving more lives.

I believe that this perspective is reflected in a comment by Nadav Eyal, an award-winning journalist for Yediot Ahronot, who said that Israel’s willingness to make such painful concessions to bring its people home is not a weakness, but a source of strength. In a volatile region like the Middle East, this solidarity is crucial for Israel’s survival. The very fact that Israel is willing to make these sacrifices— even if it might lead to more deaths or strengthen Hamas—signals to every Israeli citizen: "Israel has my back." Whether you fight in the army or live on the Gaza border in the south, or the Lebanese border in the north, Israel has your back. This commitment to kol Yisrael arevim zeh la-zeh—that each one of us is responsible for everyone else—creates unity in a country that is deeply divided politically and religiously. And in the long run, that unity is what will ultimately sustain Israel.

"וַיֵּאָנְחוּ בְּנֵי-יִשְׂרָאֵל מִן-הָעֲבֹדָה וַיִּזְעָקוּ וַתַּ֧עַל שַׁוְעָתָ֛ם אֶל-הָאֱ-לֹהִ֖ים מִן-הָעֲבֹדָֽה"
"The Bnei Yisrael groaned under the bondage and cried out; and their cry for help from the bondage rose up to God."

In Parshat Ki Tavo, the same cry is retold:

"וַנִּצְעַ֕ק אֶל-יְקֹוָ֖ק אֱ-לֹהֵ֣י אֲבֹתֵ֑ינוּ וַיִּשְׁמַ֤ע יְקֹוָ֙ק֙ אֶת-קֹלֵ֔נוּ וַיַּ֧רְא אֶת-עָנְיֵ֛נוּ"
"We cried to Hashem, the God of our ancestors, and Hashem heard our plea."

In the original story, the Bnei Yisrael didn’t consciously pray—they cried out in despair. But Parshat Ki Tavo is telling us that subconsciously, their cries were a prayer. Perhaps, in these difficult times, our cries too are prayers in disguise. And trust me, there will be a lot of crying. Crying over a potential devastating mistake by Israel in making this deal. Crying at the realization that some of the hostages are, in fact, dead. Crying over the fact that many hostages will still remain in Gaza after phase one of the deal, without assurance that we will even get to phase two. Crying when we see celebrations in Gaza of victory and the return of murderous terrorists who will promise more October 7ths in the future. There will be a lot of crying. Hopefully, there will be joy, too. But there will also be a lot of crying.

Whether or not we agree with the deal, let us take this moment to turn our z’akah—our cries—into tefillah. May Hashem answer our tefillot and grant us a complete yeshua, a complete victory, over our enemies and facilitate the return of all of our shevuyim, all of our hostages, מאפילה לאורה, from darkness to light.