Fear after deliverance — PTSD, and the Return of Ron Givili, Beshalach

“Now yellow can be yellow again … but it won’t be.” But not really.

Yesterday, a striking image circulated on social media that encapsulates the emotional paradox facing Israeli society today. In an official video, President Isaac Herzog slowly unclipped the yellow hostage pin from his suit jacket — the symbol worn by leaders, families, and communities for more than 840 days. The moment was solemn, understated. A nation collectively exhaled. By doing so, Herzog signaled what everyone now knows: for the first time since 2014, there are no longer any Israeli hostages held in Gaza.

A Facebook post commented simply: “Now yellow can be yellow again.” But then added what so many Israelis feel: “but it won’t.” Indeed, while the symbolic drivers of the crisis — the pins, the ribbons, the protests — may be taken down, the psychological and spiritual residue will not disappear with them.

This is the moment of removal — yet also of lingering terror. To give this feeling theological and emotional depth, it helps to return to Parashat Beshalach, where the Torah presents a moment uncannily similar in its emotional complexity: the Israelites’ fear at the edge of the Sea of Reeds, despite all the deliverance they had already witnessed.

“Pharaoh drew near… and they were very afraid”

The key verse that anchors this reflection is:

“כַּאֲשֶׁר פַּרְעֹה הִקְרִיב … וַיִּירְאוּ מְאֹד”
“As Pharaoh drew near… the Israelites were very afraid.”
— Exodus 14:10 / שמות י״ד:י׳

Here is a people who had just seen the ten plagues, had just walked out of Egypt with signs and wonders, and yet their first instinct — when threatened again — was panic, paralysis, and despair. Even after salvation, fear remained. This moment, the classic commentators teach, is not a failure of logic but an honest portrayal of the emotional experience of trauma and hope.

Rashi and the ambivalence of redemption

Rashi and other Jewish commentators note that the people’s response to danger despite divine intervention shows how deep their conditioning to fear had been. Their minds were still caught in the logic of slavery and survival — better the known horrors of the past than the uncertain promise of liberation — even as God stood before them to save them.

Ramban: two groups, two realities

Ramban (Nachmanides) suggests that there were essentially two psychological currents in the camp: some revered God’s presence, and others rejected what God had already done. The terror of the Egyptians behind them dredged up the trauma of generations under oppression, making it hard to fully trust in freedom.

Modern Torah reflection: fear and faith together

Rabbinic teachers, including those writing in modern yeshivot and theological schools, emphasize what this moment reveals about human nature: fear and faith are not opposites so much as co-inhabitants of the soul. One can have witnessed miracles and still be overwhelmed by memory and instinct.

This tension — fear in the presence of salvation — feels eerily familiar to many Israelis today.

The hostages are home, but we still tremble

With the return of the body of Ran Gvili, the last Israeli hostage from the October 7 attacks, the formal chapter of captive souls has closed. Leaders across the political spectrum marked the day by removing yellow ribbons and pins that had become a national symbol of hope and solidarity.

But as the pins come off, fear does not evaporate. A host of former hostages, families, soldiers, and civilians have spoken publicly — and privately — about the enduring pain that remains long after the physical dangers have ended.

PTSD and the survivors’ voices

Already in autumn 2025, medical authorities in Israel were warning of long-term psychological fallout among freed hostages, including recurring nightmares, anxiety, flashbacks, and profound psychological scars requiring long-term care.

Former captives have shared harrowing accounts:

• being confined in darkness, deprived of food, constantly under threat;

• enduring psychological manipulation and physical abuse;

• not knowing if anyone was still fighting for their release.

One hostage described the fear as something that never left him — “absolute fear, every moment of every day.”

And even for those not captured, psychologists note a broader pattern of trauma-related symptoms in military families, kibbutz communities near Gaza, and among citizens exposed to nonstop alerts and bombardments. The crisis has left deep emotional fissures in the society at large — fear that seems disproportionate to the present threat, rooted in memories of events that will not easily fade.

This pervasive psychological effect echoes precisely what the Torah described: fear doesn’t dissipate immediately upon deliverance.

The paradox of liberation

In Beshalach, the Israelites had seen evidence of God’s power: the plagues, the Passover redemption, miraculous provision for their journey. Yet the moment they perceived danger again, their terror eclipsed their memory of salvation. This tension is not just ancient history — it is a narrative that speaks to modern trauma.

Like the Israelites:

• Israelis today have witnessed collective rescue — the return of hostages, the ceasefire agreements, and a resolute national solidarity.

• Yet the trauma remains real and present, even after the formal threat has abated.

This aligns with what mental health professionals know about Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD): exposure to life-threatening situations doesn’t end with safety. The nervous system remembers long after the danger has passed, and the memory of terror can return with a trigger — a sound, a photo, a phrase, or simply a sense of vulnerability.

Lessons from Beshalach for today

1. Memory must be retrained

The Israelites forgot the ten plagues as soon as they felt cornered. Healing begins with reintegration of memory — remembering not just trauma but deliverance, support, and resilience. For Israelis, this means recognizing both the horror of captivity and the courage that brought people home.

2. Fear is not indictment

The Torah does not mock the Israelites for being afraid — it presents them honestly. Recognizing fear is part of the healing process. Saying “we are afraid again” does not negate the significance of rescue.

3. Transition takes time

In the Torah, the crossing of the sea ends with song — the Song of the Sea (shir ha-yam). But that song comes after the panic — and after the miracle. Likewise, societal healing will take time, and insisting on “closure” today risks repressing necessary emotional work.

4. Community support is essential

Just as Moses spoke words of reassurance — “Do not fear; stand firm…” (Exodus 14:13) — so too Israelis need communal narratives that combine realism about lingering trauma with hope rooted in shared experience.

A final thought

President Herzog’s gesture in removing the yellow pin is powerful. It marks a transition — from crisis to remembrance, from waiting to mourning, from the gaze fixed on captivity to the long process of healing. But like the Israelites at the Reed Sea, Israel today faces the paradox of new freedom shadowed by old fear.

The Torah reminds us that fear in the wake of salvation is not a weakness; it’s part of the human condition. What matters is how we acknowledge that fear, sit with it, and narrate it into a story of resilience rather than avoidance.

Herzog removed the pin, but a nation’s heart still bears the imprint of what was endured and what must yet be healed.