Turning to Torah While Waiting for Hostage Release: Shemot

On Names

I am filled with the competing emotions of hope and dread as we await the release of hostages from Gaza. I hope to see the Bibas boys and their parents return home, but I dread the deaths—how many of the returned souls will come home dead?

The Israelis are trading imprisoned terrorists for human remains.

I cannot imagine the terrible ordeal, waiting for a loved one’s return, not knowing if they will come home at all, and if so, will it be for a funeral or a return to life? For those coming home alive, the psychological toll of captivity is unimaginable.

There is so much uncertainty. Everyone I know who is Jewish and/or Israeli is on edge.

Not knowing what to do, I’ve turned to Torah for reflection. I started this practice several months ago, when I joined a study group formed to support the Jewish community in our post October 7th reality. All of us participants arrived shellshocked by the massacre and by the global response to it.

Each week, we read the weekly Torah portion with an eye toward some guiding questions. What follows is always an animated discussion about the text. We see the ancient struggle of humanity, and somehow, whatever happens in Torah remains relevant and alive today.

It feels a bit like magic, as if we’re awakening ancient words by simply uttering them.

During this weekly miracle, Torah feels like both our vehicle and our view. It’s our grounding framework—our holding space—but it’s also the very thing we seek. Time collapses. It’s like touching our ancestors.

I listen for whispers of wisdom. I cannot decide if voices reach through history or if what we think we hear is simply our own echo. All I know for sure is that something happens. Some wisdom from before informs how we make meaning now.

Of course, I’ve relied on secular literature for meaning making too. From Shakespeare to the Victorian novel to contemporary poetry. Why, then, does Torah study feel different? Why does it feel—dare I say—sacred?

I’ve been agnostic for so long—am I starting to believe in G-d?

I don’t know.

Even if I suddenly believed in a divine creator, would G-d’s existence, in and of itself, be enough to render a text sacred? Or is it our collective souls coming together, revisiting the same words that our ancestors studied before and our descendants will visit again someday? Is this how we transcend time and space?

This week’s Torah portion is called Shemot. Shemot means names. And as I consider this title, I feel the significance of Shemot—of names—on this very moment.

How many times have I complained that the hostages in Gaza are neglected by the world at large? (“Future of Jewish” published one of my more provocative essays earlier this week. You can read that here.) When Brittney Griner was held in Russian jail, did we not all know and say her name? And yet, my fellow US citizens seem mostly oblivious to even the American citizens who remain hostage in Gaza.

Shemot begins with names. This Shabbat, in Jewish congregations in Israel and throughout the diaspora, Jews will revisit those names, and now, it is my hope that we will also get to say the names of our hostages aloud, uttered not with grief and despair, but with relief.

My husband reminds me that we must check ourselves. Israel is negotiating with terrorists, after all. Are human negotiations enough to return our hostages home? Or do we need divine intervention too?

I don’t know the answer.

But given the stakes, I’m praying.

I’m praying for the safe return of all the living hostages. For the return of the remains of those already deceased. That Israel will be secure. That Jews will enjoy safety in all the days to come.

When I close my eyes, I see the Bibas boys. They smile. They return.

Say all their names in prayer.

Please bring them home.

Shabbat Shalom,

Jen xoxo