Sara and Benjamin Netanyahu's note to the returning hostages: "In the name of all the People of Israel, welcome back home! We awaited you. We embrace you."
Recently, I wrote about what this deal truly represented, not diplomacy, but Hamas' defeat. I said Hamas didn’t agree because it wanted peace, but because it ran out of choices. And I still believe that. Every word of it. This wasn’t the result of compromise or negotiation; it was the consequence of strength, clarity, and faith.
But belief doesn’t cancel pain, and victory doesn’t erase fear. Because while Israel celebrates the return of our hostages - our brothers and sisters who have endured unthinkable darkness - we’re also watching convicted murderers walk free. That’s the part the world doesn’t understand, or doesn’t want to see. The same deal that reunites families also reopens wounds that never healed.
Among those being released is the terrorist who murdered Dalia Lemkus - someone I knew. Someone from my community. Someone whose laughter, kindness, and light were stolen in an act of pure evil. Dalia was murdered because she was Jewish. Because she stood on her own land, in her own country, living the simple, beautiful life our enemies can’t stand to see. And now, the man who took her life, who left her family shattered and an entire community in mourning will walk free.
Try explaining that to her parents. Try explaining that to a nation that’s already buried too many of its children. That’s the paradox of this moment; joy and heartbreak, side by side. We cry tears of relief as we watch our hostages come home, and tears of anguish knowing that their freedom came at a price that truth can’t ignore.
Because for every hostage who steps into the light, a terrorist steps out of the darkness. And as much as we celebrate this moment, we can’t pretend it comes without consequence. The return of life is always sacred but the release of evil is never without cost.
I still believe Israel won. Not through politics, but through truth, strength, and faith. But victory doesn’t give us tomorrow. It only promises us today. Evil doesn’t disappear when it loses, it regroups. It adapts. It waits. And if we’ve learned anything from our history, it’s that every time Israel shows compassion, someone else mistakes it for weakness.
So as we welcome our people home, we need to do it with eyes wide open. We can celebrate the miracle and still mourn the cost. We can thank God for the mercy of this day, and still pray for the wisdom to face what comes next. Because faith doesn’t mean blindness. It means standing firm in the light even when surrounded by shadows.
The world calls this peace. But peace that rewards evil isn’t peace.
We’ve seen this pattern before. We give, they take. We hope, they hate. And somehow, the world keeps asking us to do it again.
So yes, we’ll rejoice. We’ll embrace our returning brothers and sisters. And we’ll thank God for the miracle of life reclaimed. But we’ll also remember Dalia and all the others whose blood still cries out from the ground. Because true peace will only come when the innocent are free, the guilty are held accountable, and the world finally learns the difference between mercy and madness.
And until that day comes, may we remain united as one people. Bound by faith, not fear; by purpose, not politics. May our tears of pain turn into tears of redemption. May the light of our unity pierce the darkness of this exile. And may we merit to see the coming of Moshiach, speedily, in our days.
Amen.