Bringing them home: Closure, chesed shel emes
Last week, Israel received the remains of Ran Gvili, the final hostage whose body had been held in Gaza since October 7.
I watched people celebrating, removing their yellow ribbons, marking the end of what had been a count of 239 hostages. When I saw footage of soldiers singing Ani Maamin after recovering his body, my gut response was raw: a young man was brutally murdered; this was not a moment of triumph.
I shared these conflicted feelings with my dear teacher and colleague Rabbi Freundlich, and his framing helped me see it differently. It was a moment of victory.
There is a world of difference between a victim abandoned in enemy territory and one brought back to rest among his people. That distinction does not eliminate pain, but it provides a form of Nechama, a sense of wholeness that resonates deeply within our tradition.
Many have noted that for the first time since 2014, no one remains in Gaza whose whereabouts are unknown. That fact alone carries the weight of a nation that refused to stop searching.
Last week’s parsha, Beshalach, describes another national exodus, another movement from enslavement toward freedom.
“Moshe took the bones of Yosef with him” (Shemos 13:19).
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While the Jewish people prepared to depart from Egypt, they busied themselves collecting the riches Hashem had instructed them to take. They were fulfilling the divine assurance that they would emerge from slavery with great wealth. Moshe Rabbeinu, however, accepted a different mission entirely. As everyone else accumulated gold and silver, Moshe devoted himself to transporting Yosef’s remains.
The Gemara in Sotah 13a identifies this choice as evidence of Moshe’s profound attachment to Mitzvos. The Pasuk declares, “Chacham lev yikach mitzvos” (Mishlei 10:8), a wise hearted person seizes mitzvos. Our Sages apply this verse to Moshe. Not because the people acted improperly, but because Moshe perceived a deeper calling.
The nation fulfilled their explicit command. Hashem had instructed them to request gold and silver from the Egyptians before leaving, a fulfillment of the promise to Avraham that his descendants would leave Egypt with great wealth. They were engaged in a mitzvah, doing precisely what they had been told.
Moshe, however, embraced an obligation of a different nature. He chose a mitzvah that promised no material benefit. He undertook the transport of bones. He committed himself to honoring a covenant made generations earlier to someone no longer alive to acknowledge him in this world. This is chesed shel emes.
That decision reveals something fundamental about our identity. We are a people who affirm the soul’s immortality and recognize that human dignity extends beyond the grave. We hold life sacred, while also insisting that how we treat the deceased carries immense significance.
Tending to those who can offer no reciprocation exemplifies chesed shel emes, authentic kindness in its purest form. This stands in stark contrast to a world that measures worth by power and productivity, that discards what it can no longer use. We look at a body in the ground and see not an ending, but a person still deserving of honor.
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We refuse to abandon our own. Redemption is incomplete while even one of our people remains behind, both the living and the dead alike. We could not experience Geulah from Mitzrayim until Yosef’s bones were taken out. And we cannot close the chapter of the bitter war of October 7th until every last remain is removed from the hands of our enemies. This is a moment of victory, not because tragedy has disappeared, but because dignity has been restored.
Last week’s development, heartrending as it was, holds genuine significance. Returning someone for proper burial does not reverse tragedy or resurrect the dead. Yet it embodies Kavod, profound respect. It demonstrates our refusal to forget and fulfills our most sacred commitments. It marks the final accounting of 239 precious souls, some returned to us alive and others returned to us only in death.
And so we find ourselves, thousands of years later, living out this same principle. Over the past two years, the nation of Israel has refused to accept that any of our people should remain lost. We have negotiated, we have fought, we have searched, we have waited. Not because it was easy or efficient, but because we are the students of Moshe, and we do not leave our own behind.
With hearts that are simultaneously burdened and complete, we turn to prayer. Rabbi Rimon suggested that when reciting HaTov VeHaMeitiv, the fourth blessing of Birkas HaMazon, we might include intention for the holy martyrs now brought to burial, connecting them to the martyrs of Beitar for whom this Beracha was originally established (Berachos 48b).
May the memory of Ran Gvili and all those taken on October 7 be a blessing. May their return to the soil of Israel bring comfort to their families and a measure of closure to a nation that refused to forget them.
And may we merit to see the day when all forms of captivity end, when no Jewish soul remains unredeemed, and when the promise of “V’Shav Yaakov v’shaket v’shaanan v’ein macharid” (Yirmiyahu 30:10), “Yaakov shall return and be tranquil and secure, with none to frighten him,” is fulfilled in our time.
Write: Columnist@TheJewishStar.com
