Grief, joy and the agony of absence

The Torah as an eternal treasure and guidebook of the Jewish people has constantly demonstrated its ability to offer new inspiration and wisdom as it is reread in each generation. As we enter a highly-charged period of weeks (and perhaps months) in which our nation will experience a complex cocktail of conflicting emotions – joy, grief, fear and frustration – I sat down to review a particularly poignant passage of the Torah with a new perspective. A perspective from the last 15 months in which hundreds of faces of people who had previously been strangers now plaster public areas and inhabit the deepest recesses of our minds; whose families’ unbearable pain and suffering is never far from our thoughts even when we temporarily turn our minds to other mundane matters.

In the opening weeks of the war I attended a gathering at the Kotel of shell-shocked hostage families where we prayed and cried together and tried to find words of support to somehow strengthen those vacant faces suffering unimaginable pain. Pain, and anguish which many of those who I stood with that day have now been suffering for well over a year.

In recent weeks we read once again the episode of Yosef’s 17-year disappearance, the unending grief of an inconsolable Ya’akov and, finally, the tear-filled reunion in Egypt. Having been informed of his son’s disappearance we are told that Ya’akov refused to be comforted; in Rashi’s telling he had a strong intuition that his son was still alive – somewhere – with no idea how or where he was being held, lacking any notion of how to begin to search for him. Unable to grieve or move on with his life, Ya’akov is stuck in a never-ending hell. Barely believing he would see his beloved son again – as he later tells him: “to see your face I never considered possible” – yet unable to set his mind on anything else.

When Ya’akov was eventually informed that his son is alive and that he will reunite with him, his heart skipped a beat in this moment of overwhelming emotion and his “spirit lived again”. Yet a careful reading of the text reveals that he was forever scarred by the experience.

Pharaoh is clearly impacted by Ya’akov’s age and appearance asking him “how many are the days of the years of your life?”. Ya’akov replies “few and bad have been the days of the years of my dwelling”. This strange combination of words is often taken to show that righteous people utilize each and every day of their life. But I believe there is more going on here. While Pharaoh inquires of the length of Ya’akov’s “life”, Ya’akov responds that his “dwelling” has been bad. Rav S. R. Hirsch interprets this to imply that he has not fully lived for much of this time – just dwelt and existed. I would add that the “days of the years” of his life can be taken to mean that each and every day of the years of his life was a separate source of agony and suffering.

As for the moment of reunion itself, the account is both simple and profound. Reading the verses of the Torah we see Ya’akov and Yosef embracing and crying on each other’s shoulders. The overpowering emotion of the moment transcends speech or attempts to capture their thoughts and feelings in words. Digging below the surface, however, we find Rashi citing a tradition that Ya’akov “recited Keriat Shema”.

Whether or not we understand this to refer to a literal recitation of the words, I believe that it encapsulates the religious response to this overwhelming and sensitive moment. The unfathomable joy mixed with the painful realisation that they have lost so many years together – Ya’akov struggles to recognise and relate to Yosef’s new position and family. How can they even begin to understand the role and possible purpose of God in such difficult and complex times – especially while experiencing such powerful emotions. The midrash appears to be teaching the correct response – Shema represents accepting the yoke of Heaven. Accepting and pronouncing that, whether or not we can understanding why things occur or what God’s plan might be, we can have the humility and clear-headedness to recognise that there is a greater plan and a higher wisdom at play.

With such a response, Ya’akov as our forefather has embodied a fundamental example which has guided his persecuted descendants through to this very day.

This post specifically wants to avoid the complex and ongoing debate over the wisdom of the hostage deal, recognizing the very legitimate concerns over the dangers and threat that it creates – there are plenty of places on Facebook and elsewhere where this has, is and will continue to be debated.

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The excruciating question of hostage negotiation

In dark times such as these, many of us find ourselves looking back to precedents from our tear-stained history for guidance and insight. What we find is not always clear and unambiguous, but even then it can provide a measure of perspective and comfort to know that our desperate struggles and moral quandaries are similar to those which our ancestors have faced over the millennia.

Talmud Reclaimed brings the example of redeeming hostages as one of a series of cases which demonstrate different methodologies through which Rambam and the Tosafists identify rulings from the Talmud. The primary Talmudic passage in (Gittin 45a) presents a clear rabbinic decree prohibiting the redemption of hostages “for more than their value” since this will encourage kidnappers to abduct more Jews and demand ever increasing ransoms. Rambam, in keeping with his usual practice, records this ruling without exception in his legal code (Matnat Aniyim 8:12).

Yet this is far from the end of the story.

The Ba’alei Tosafot (Gittin 58a), consistent with their own Talmudic approach, identified several exceptions to this Talmudic ruling – for example if the hostage’s life is in danger or if a Torah scholar is abducted. Was the Mishnah’s ruling simply too strict and uncompromising to be imposed unconditionally on the nation?

Fascinatingly, when one of the most prominent Tosafists, Maharam MiRottenburg, was kidnapped for a heavy ransom, he refused to allow his community to collect money to redeem him out of fear that this would merely encourage the gentiles to abduct more rabbinic leaders.

This painful moral conundrum has become magnified to an unimaginably horrifying extent in the current nightmare which our nation has been living for the last year.

On the one hand, there is the cold, rational voice of the Mishnah hanging over us. By agreeing to redeem hostages “for any price” we have undoubtedly encouraged our enemies to utilise hostage-taking as a preferred strategy against us. The 1000+ terrorists released as part of the Shalit deal in 2015 have been directly responsible for several Israeli deaths (and arguably indirectly for many more).

Perhaps more significantly, it established the norm that Israel will pay an outsized price to redeem its people (unlike the Ukraine-Russia conflict where prisoner exchanges frequently exchange at a 1-1 rate). When Hamas decided on October 7 to abduct Israelis rather than complete the massacre it was not done for the sake of the Israelis themselves but as a cruel tactic to ensure Hamas’s survival in the inevitable war that would follow. Israel, they predicted, would agree to any price to get its people back – even one that leaves them with a relatively open border to rearm and renew its ability to launch further murderous attacks on Israel.

On the other hand, what are the consequences of not agreeing a deal to bring our tortured brothers and sisters back home? Will seeing our hostages – their devastated families and friends – pleading for their lives yet us turning a blind eye to their pain irreversibly change us as a nation? Is our willingness to do anything to bring our people home, a willingness that our enemies identify as a weak spot, really a source of national strength, pride and unity? Perhaps a refusal to proceed with a deal will bring a pyrrhic victory – militarily degrading Hamas to a point of no return but morally and socially degrading Israel in the process. Will we be the same people afterwards?

It is an impossible question which we are faced with. How can we, as human beings and as Jews, face our hostage families and tell them that their loved ones are not worth the price of military compromise. At the same time how can we ignore that cold rational truth in our heads which predicts the numerous likely Israeli deaths in the years to come from agreeing such a deal – and the knowledge that we are playing along to Hamas’s strategy.

However there is another part of Hamas’s strategy we can and must do more to mitigate. We must keep at the forefront of our minds that our true enemies are not our fellow Jews who balance up these concerns differently to ourselves but the bloodthirsty terrorists who knowingly calculated to put us into this awful moral conundrum in order to tear us apart. None of us are traitors. We all want the hostages home and well as soon as possible and Hamas weakened and degraded to the greatest extent possible. We cannot afford to permit Hamas to turn us against each other with poisonous rhetoric and actions.

May this month, as we prayed this morning, be one of salvation and comforting, life and peace.

Unified we will be victorious. Am Yisrael Chai.

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