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Harriet Gimpel

Resolutions of Concentric Circles

Keith Siegel was released this morning, Saturday. My emotional pencil drew 180° from where I was on Thursday, and merged into the previous circle, initiating the next. Credible, yet unauthorized international sources circulated his name among names of three Israeli hostages and five Thai hostages to be released last Thursday. But Wednesday when Israel released names provided by Hamas, Keith was not among them. My thoughts were with his wife and children. Keith, my age, though I have never met him. An American citizen, like me. An Israeli citizen, like me. Yet, joy over the names on the list. Relieved when Keith was on yesterday’s list for release today. Keith is home, in Israel.

Ofer Kalderon and Yarden Bibas released were released today, too. They each have stories. The world knows Yarden, father of the red-headed babies. On Friday, before and after our family Shabbat dinner, my imagination was stifled. Television commentators filled the speculation space with scenarios about Yarden and what he will ask. Israeli media repeatedly qualifies: We have no proof, despite grave concerns, about the Bibas children, Kfir and Ariel, and their mother, Shiri. Yarden, 35, went out of his home on the morning of October 7, 2023, hearing terrorists, prepared to sacrifice himself to save his wife and children. They were taken later.

Media mirroring reality reminds Israelis of October 7. Media mirroring reality reminds Israelis of forgotten – or suppressed – trauma. Suddenly, one evening Haim describes his helicopter dodging an attack, that had every chance of being fatal, as he flew to Lebanon for a medical rescue mission in 1973, the Yom Kippur War.

Imagining the Siegel family on Wednesday hearing Keith was not returning home the next day, until Friday, when it was announced he would return today. Emotions belong to the family, personally. And emotions belong to society. Families of returning hostages and mental health professionals decree, repeatedly: Freed hostages, and society, cannot heal until all hostages return home. Statements belonging to them, personally. And to society, personally.

Angst on Wednesday, on some surface, marginalized in the shuffle with joy: unexpectedly, it was announced that Gadi Mozes (80) would return on Thursday. My friend Efrat’s uncle, Uncle Gadi! Personally, my tears went unchecked. The next day, a lynch appeared imminent when he was released to the Red Cross vehicle in Gaza that transferred him to Israeli hands. A media release: Gadi said he will do everything in his power to rebuild Nir Oz. Nir Oz, his kibbutz. Netanyahu hasn’t been to Nir Oz since October 7.

Shifting thoughts, to another issue, a disturbing headline last week: Alon Davidi, Mayor of Sderot, a city victimized by rocket attacks from Gaza for over 20 years, a symbol of resilience.  The mind scrolls the album of October 7, Sderot is there. Davidi’s politics differ from mine, but my belief in the need to defend, protect, and contribute to the resilience of Sderot is unequivocal. I recall a meeting with Davidi in November 2022. He mentioned the children of Gaza, and under my breath, I said, “They are victims too.” He heard, and responded, “They are not victims.” Hoping the circumstances of our meeting would help him raise a little money for post-trauma treatments or resiliency programs in the city. Not the time for disagreeing.

In November, Israel demolished a previously unrecognized Bedouin village, Umm al-Hiran, designating the land for residential purposes for Jewish citizens of Israel. Democracy? Zionism? Perhaps that Zionism I reject. Land confiscated from other citizens of Israel. Headlines this week announce the son of Minister of Finance Smotrich and Mayor Alon Davidi were awarded special prices for lots in the new town. My levels of infuriation and shame peak, again.

With an internal pendulum swing I return to media discussing the people of Gaza. A panelist believes all residents of Gaza identify with Hamas and its methods. Who needs evidence, it’s his given. My views to the contrary do not contradict my zero tolerance for Hamas. Its barbaric, organizational practices exceed the worst of Israeli policies and practices, and I recognize the latter.  Discussion reinforces my commitment to the idea that Israel must be the best it can be, not the worst. I place hope in Israeli youth for Israel’s future. Some will have to overcome the worst of their education. Most will have to overcome the trauma of this war – whether and wherever affected as civilians, soldiers, hostages.

A social gathering distracts us. One friend tells us that grandparents of Naama Levi, released from Gaza last week, are very close friends. Another friend his 26-year-old son, injured during reserve duty in Gaza and an emotional mess, is in therapy.

Uncle Gadi on my mind. Thursday afternoon, I told Haim’s daughter that Gadi’s niece is my friend.  Her first-grader overheard. The questions began: “Your friend’s uncle is a hostage?” “Not anymore,” I told her.  I explained that before he goes home, he has to go to the hospital. I didn’t mention the state of his kibbutz and where “home” might be for now. “Hospital?” she asked with concern. I told her, “He gets a room like a hotel room even though it’s at the hospital. His family can visit.” If his family can visit, she said, she would like to visit too. I hugged her, my eyes moist, and told her how kind she is, but that in the beginning only his family can visit.

Last Monday, this same first-grader, caught on video by her mom in the park, released a fist full of strings attached to balloons making a wish: “For all the hostages to come home.” When we talked on Thursday, I asked what made her think to make that wish. She told me that’s what all the kids in her class want. They all want the war to end, because they’re all afraid of air raid sirens. My wish too, for society, for first-graders, for those not yet first-graders, and those who were.

Harriet Gimpel, February 1, 2025

About the Author
Born and raised in Philadelphia, earned a B.A. in Near Eastern and Judaic Studies from Brandeis University in 1980, followed by an M.A. in Political Science from The Hebrew University of Jerusalem, Harriet has worked in the non-profit world throughout her career. She is a freelance translator and editor, writes poetry in Hebrew and essays in English, and continues to work for NGOs committed to human rights and democracy.