Monday, January 26

We started saying The Prayer for the Hostages on October 7th, 2023. We started wearing yellow ribbon lapel pins and “Bring Them Home” and “My Heart Is In Gaza” dog tag necklaces shortly thereafter. We put up “Kidnapped” posters, and then, when our enemies tore them down, we protested and re-posted them. Names like Be’eri, Nir Oz and Kfar Aza became as familiar to us as Jerusalem and Tel Aviv. We cried, we mourned. We died just a bit with every discovery of another October 7th Massacre victim. Our hearts broke with every announcement of a fallen soldier.

We rallied, we sent money, we sang songs, we offered heartfelt prayers, we wrote Op-Eds, we signed petitions, we screamed at the biased news reports. We penned letters to politicians. We loved the police, we hated the police, depending on the latest demonstration. We felt scared, and we felt empowered, also depending on the latest demonstration. We celebrated the release of each living hostage. We shared outrage at the condition of some former hostages, disbelief at the stories of others. We felt pride in the brave IDF accomplishments and ingenious Mossad operations, felt sick at the number of Palestinian criminals set free.

We lost friends who remained silent or who believed the ridiculous Hamas propaganda. We became news junkies because we knew that Israel would always be mentioned. We became social media addicts because we knew we could find support there from each other. We developed new antennae for sensing antisemitism around us, and occasionally wondered if we were simply paranoid and imagining it. We felt helpless when our Toronto shuls and schools were targeted, when mezuzahs were torn off of doorposts, and when our enemies freely roamed our neighbourhoods spewing hate through megaphones. We supported Israel, phoned Israel, emailed Israel, volunteered in Israel. Our Jewish identities were strengthened.

All that since October 7th. When the last living hostages were released on October 13th, 2025, we partially exhaled, sorta kinda thinking that it might be, maybe, possibly, a bit over. Some stopped wearing their yellow pins and dog tags then. Others waited. As long as there were hostages, even those no longer living, being held in Gaza, we weren’t finished. We continued saying The Prayer for the Hostages whenever we gathered to pray.

And now. Today. The remains of 24-year old Ran Gvili, the last Israeli hostage, were located through the painstaking and meticulous efforts of the IDF in a Muslim cemetery in eastern Gaza City. They have been returned to his family, as Jews across the globe are both weeping and collectively exhaling. The funeral is planned for Wednesday, and the final Ran Gvili posters have now been removed.

So is it over? Well, for starters, it’s an overwhelming – and surreal – feeling to not have any Israelis held in Gaza. I’m pretty sure that yellow ribbon lapel pins and dog tag necklaces will most likely next appear in museum exhibits, history book photos, time capsules, and maybe even some flea markets for “collectors”. The effects of October 7th will surely be felt well into the next generation and beyond. What one of us feels, we all feel. But you know what? Right now, today, I am uplifted. I am hopeful. I am optimistic. You know why? Because for 843 days, we have been reciting the Prayer for the Hostages, and that prayer was just answered. We have been reciting the Prayer for Peace for thousands of years, so maybe, just maybe, now is the time that that Prayer will finally be answered, too. Let us have peace.

Am Yisrael Chai!