I was sitting at the market, amidst the simple Israeli everyday life—the scents of spices, the calls of vendors, snippets of conversations from people not yet daring to truly hope—and suddenly, it happened. We heard on the news: “The hostages are in the hands of the IDF.”

One voice cried out, then two—and suddenly an overwhelming outburst of voices: shouts of joy, cries of relief, the first breath after months of not daring to breathe.

Two years ago, words fell silent. The heart fell silent. There was nothing left to say in the face of pain, grief, and powerlessness.

And today—words fail again. But this time, the silence is full of light, full of liberation, full of life returning. It is a double, manifold joy. An immeasurable happiness one can hardly grasp. The heart is overflowing, bursting with emotions—joy and tears, gratitude and fear, longing and faith. Everything merges together, like the entire People of Israel—one yet torn, broken yet connected, but in such a moment: a single heart.

At Hostage Square, a miracle unfolds. Wonderful young people, sons and daughters who have grown up in an incomprehensible reality, stand there with waving flags, jumping, singing, crying, and laughing all at once. Songs ring out, light flickers on their young faces, and hearts open up.

And a giant, Donald Trump, lands in the midst of it all—as if even the heavens are joining this celebration, as if the world pauses for a moment to witness the small and great miracle of the People of Israel.

And we saw them. We saw them—on their own two feet, alive. And the heart melted. A feeling of relief. A feeling of gratitude. A clear knowledge of whom we owe thanks to—and to whom we send a quiet glance of gratitude. For there are moments when words are too small, and gratitude itself becomes a prayer.

We celebrate—with tears in our eyes, with an embrace in our hearts for every mother and father, for every brother and sister, for every family still waiting. And this expectation—for the physical reunion, for the touch of hand to hand, for the first glance of true closeness—is our greatest hope.

The people breathe again. The state pulses again. Love flows again.

And we—all of us—know: Not only have our children returned home today, but a part of our heart has begun to beat again.

Now we can turn to healing, to brotherhood, and to the reunification of the great fracture.

The holiday of Simchat Torah, the weekly portion of Bereshit—the creation of the world, the creation of humanity, the creation of the connection between the Creator and His work.

To rise tomorrow morning and begin anew—from Bereshit, from the beginning.

Want more news from Israel?
Click Here to sign up for our FREE daily email updates