I grew up with Israeli heroes. The heroism of Yoni Netanyahu in Entebbe and of daring operations behind enemy lines. I also grew up on the stories of Eli Cohen and Ron Arad. Two of the biggest open wounds in Israeli society. Two Israelis whose fates were never resolved and whose remains were never recovered.
More than anything, I grew up with the understanding that Israel would do anything to get its citizens back. No one would be left behind.
On August 31st, 2024, the bodies of six Israeli hostages were recovered from a Gaza tunnel. Six beautiful Israeli souls were savagely executed by Hamas terrorists. On that day, something changed for me. That feeling of pride I had, that faith in what Israel meant, had vanished.
I write this realizing the complexity of dealing with the most evil terrorists on earth, who ultimately executed our hostages, but I have no expectations from them to be any different. I do have expectations of my own government.
I also write this realizing the complexity of releasing prisoners with blood on their hands, mass murderers, in exchange for hostages. The Gilad Shalit deal released Yahya Sinwar, the mastermind behind October 7. Still, it was the government that failed the hostages, taken from a music festival and from their homes, and I believe it is the duty of that government to pay that price and deal with the consequences.
On that day, August 31, I was not in Israel. I was on a family visit to Vancouver, Canada. The war was still very much on our minds every single day, thinking about the hostages, friends, and family in the IDF.
I had decided to buy tickets for a concert for one of my wife’s favorite bands. They were by chance in Vancouver. We don’t get many big artists in Israel these days.
So I surprised her with two floor seats to Kings of Leon at Rogers Arena. We got off the SkyTrain and were on our way to the entrance when I got a Telegram notification. I stopped in my tracks, and my wife asked what was wrong. I said, “They’re gone.” I had to sit down. We both sat sobbing on a bench as people flocked past us to the concert.
Israel was the only place I wanted to be, and I had never been further from it. Everyone walking by had no idea what was happening. I was in the town I grew up in, but never felt so alone.
I realize there were 1,200 Israelis killed on October 7, and nearly 1,000 Israeli soldiers killed since, but something about these six hostages felt closer. Maybe it was because I grew up following American and Israeli sports, obsessed with geography, and was enamoured by Hersh and by his eloquent parents. Maybe it was because I saw Eden Yerushalmi’s face every time I drove on the Ayalon highway. Maybe it was because I saw Carmel Gat’s tote bag for sale at my favorite restaurant around the corner. Something about them was different. I felt like I knew each of them. They felt like family.
We ended up going to the concert. I sat and cried the entire time. We probably shouldn’t have gone in. It was the most bizarre experience. I was so disoriented I even hugged someone next to me, assuming it was my wife, Tal. It was another man, and he looked at me, frightened. He, of course, had no clue why I was bawling my eyes out at a Kings of Leon concert, let alone hugging him. He said, “What are you doing?!” I was considering explaining myself, but I ignored him and hugged my wife.
What died in Israel was that sense of solidarity that has always defined it. It was the purpose of why Israel was founded. It was when Israel failed.
I know Hersh, Carmel, and Eden were on a list for a hostage deal that should have happened but was blocked by a Netanyahu government held hostage by extremists looking to resettle Gaza at the expense of returning the hostages, but that is for another piece.
This is more a reflection of what was lost, for me at least. Something in Israel died that day. We owe it to Carmel, to Hersh, to Eden, to Ori, to Alex, and to Almog to do everything in our power to make sure that can be reborn and renewed.
Yonit Levy opened this evening’s news with Amit Segal’s report on whether Jewish extremist Moshe Feiglin would link up with Bezalel Smotrich in upcoming elections. Two years on, none of the six made the broadcast. Two extremist politicians, who opposed the deals to bring them back, did.
I posted this earlier today.
I also had a surreal experience of attending a concert and crying here in the states. It was the evening of October 7th. Just crying 😢 as Little Feat played Fool Yourself.
I haven’t been to Israel since the late 70’s but I wept, too, at the news of their murders. I’ve felt incredible solidarity and closeness to Israel every day since October 7, 2023. Thank you for sharing this story.