Waiting for Trump Won’t Bring Them Home

Yesterday was a day to celebrate. Edan Alexander – home. Alive. Freed from Hamas captivity. For a moment, there was something to exhale about, something to cling to amid the uncertainty. A sliver of light in a tunnel we’ve grown far too used to stumbling through.

But as with all things here, the joy was layered. Complicated. Fragile.

Because for every cheer there was a question. Why only Edan? Why just the American? What about the Israelis still buried in tunnels, their names whispered at Shabbat tables, their faces taped to every street corner? Why does Hamas get to claim this was a goodwill gesture to President Trump, while continuing to hold our own citizens like bargaining chips in a rigged game?

And maybe more unsettling: why is Trump, of all people, accepting a $400 million plane from Qatar – the very same Qatar that gives sanctuary and salaries to Hamas leadership? Israelis are watching this unfold, trying to make sense of it, and feeling the growing pit in their stomachs: are we losing Trump? The Trump we thought had our back?

Especially now, as whispers of new negotiations with Iran float through the headlines.

But maybe this is where we’ve lost sight of something essential.

Donald Trump is the President of the United States. He is not the Prime Minister of Israel. His job, his responsibility, is to serve the American people, not to save us. Not to rescue our hostages. Not to destroy our enemies. Not to carry our grief and fight our war.

We forget that while we are consumed, rightfully and painfully, by our own trauma, by funerals and hostage vigils and soldiers we grew up with, the world doesn’t stop spinning. Russia is still pummeling Ukraine. Pakistan and India are inches from another flashpoint. There’s a tariff war with China. And that’s just the international side of his desk. America has its own chaos to juggle.

There’s a scene in Operation Thunderbolt where they ask Yoni Netanyahu why they’re risking everything to save the hostages in Entebbe. He answers simply: “Because if we don’t, who will?”

It’s a line that echoes louder now than ever before.

Why are we sitting and waiting for America to bring our children home? Why are we hoping Trump, Witkoff, or anyone else will deliver us peace while we argue among ourselves, paralyzed by indecision and politics and blame?

We can’t afford to wait anymore. The rockets don’t wait. The tunnels don’t wait. The mothers with empty beds in their homes don’t wait.

When Iran unleashed hundreds of missiles and drones, the world came to help. We’re grateful. But we must remember, those missiles weren’t aimed at America. They were aimed at us. And we cannot expect other nations to feel that threat in their bones the way we do.

Yes, international partnerships matter. But survival? That’s on us.

It’s time to build a government we can stand behind, not just one we have to endure. One with a backbone, with vision, with urgency. A government that knows its most sacred task is not winning a coalition, but bringing our people home.

We must stop looking outward and start acting inward. The world isn’t going to save us.

So the next time we wonder why Trump isn’t doing more, maybe we should turn that question back on ourselves. And ask: why aren’t we?