‘Finally, finally, finally, you’re free’

Having spent the month writing twenty thousand words of a new book during my mini-Sabbatical, it makes sense that I would be at a loss for more words to share. But it’s not the work on that book that leaves me at a loss for words, rather the loss this week of six precious souls at the hands of barbaric murderers, Hamas. Among the murdered was Hersh Goldberg-Polin z”l, who tragically and senselessly became one of the most known Jewish figures of our era because of the gut wrenching misfortune of being in the wrong place at the right time, and the breathless, valiant, unimaginably difficult advocacy of his parents Rachel and Jon for the freedom of their son and all of the hostages, enveloped by an urgent demand for mercy, humanity, and empathy for all people.

Rachel and Jon’s words across the globe during this awful year model eloquence under duress that cannot be imagined or contained. If other Jewish figures have given more moving, heartrending, and world-shaking public speeches in my lifetime, I have not heard them. They have spoken for millions of broken hearts even as we cannot ever understand what they and the other families of hostages have had to carry. May they be comforted amongst the mourners of Jerusalem and Zion and all of humankind now and forever more.

I’ve known Jon and Rachel for 30 years. You’ve not met kinder, more humble people. The death of their son, of a similar age and set of interests and questions and light and background as my own and so many of my friends’ kids, hits home in ways hard to describe.

Every day, riding my bike to work for more than 335 days, I have passed by banners with Hersh’s face and the face of the other bound and tortured sisters and brothers Hamas holds in hell. I rode those same streets on a different bike that a friend of Rachel and mine gave me after he went off to become a famous writer when the three of us worked at Norman’s on Ma’alot Street in the mid-1990s. Rachel insisted that Norman hire me when I told her that I was short on cash because hesed and thoughtfulness have always been as natural to her as her sense of humor and smile.

Riding my bike in Jerusalem has always meant freedom to me, even in the darkest days here, and in the past 11 months, it has also given me a chance to face the opposite of freedom: the suffering in barbaric captivity Hersh and all of the rest of these righteous ones have had to endure.

Agonizing face-to-face over the pain of so many people who could have just as well been any one of us is a clarion call to #bringthemhomenow, to encounter with our most human face the anguish of our fellows, and to remember not to rest until justice is served for them, for Israel, and for all people who suffer righteously regardless of faith, creed, country, or where they were born.

Rachel ended her eulogy by speaking directly to Hersh, proclaiming, “Finally, finally, finally, you’re free.” After this cry of a mother more powerful than a million shofar blasts, what freedom shall we proclaim? We must demand that any and all shackles held by any parties holding back the freedom of the rest of the hostages must be broken and thrown into the sea immediately. Until this freedom rings, how can anyone look at the faces of the hostages and their families without feeling ashamed? When we and our leaders look ourselves in the mirror, we must remember: if we are not screaming for justice, howling for the hostages’ release, and refusing to stop raising up our words until the captives are free, none of us is free.