Sometimes, we read about history in our textbooks. Sometimes, we get to see it unfurl in front of our very eyes.
Earlier this week, a force of IDF soldiers located and retrieved the body of Ran Gvili, the last Israeli hostage in Gaza. They huddled together, put their arms around each other, and burst into an emotional song—Ani Ma’amin, Hebrew for “I believe.” Ran was coming home. Israel is whole again.
Watching them on TV, I, too shared their feelings. Our son, Itay, a dual Israeli-U.S. citizen, was killed on October 7, 2023, when Hamas terrorists attacked his tank. He was 19 years old. His remains were taken to Gaza.
For more than two years, we worked tirelessly to have him returned to us. For more than two years, we fought. For more than two years, we prayed. And in November of last year, after 760 days, our prayers finally came true and there was certainty to what we were told of Itay’s fate.
We were grateful and relieved, but not yet satisfied: our hearts could not rest until all Israeli families shared the same comfort, the comfort of having their son or daughter brought to their eternal rest in Israel which is one of the highest mitzvahs in the Torah.
This week, we can finally rest knowing, as the Hebrew expression goes, VeShavu Banim LeGvulam—all boys have returned home.
Because the Jewish people never leave anyone behind.
It’s no coincidence at all that, as we read this week’s Torah portion, we come across the following verse: “Moses,” the parsha tells us, “took the bones of Joseph with him, for he had bound the sons of Israel by an oath that they should bind their descendants by an oath, saying, ‘God will surely remember you, and you must take up my bones from here with you.’”
There is a great lesson in this haunting verse, and it’s one we learned anew this week. Generations have passed since Joseph’s death. The Israelites were enslaved. Yet they never lost sight of what truly matters: their loyalty to each other and to their tradition. No one ever forgot Joseph’s burial place. And no one ever forgot the promise made to the great man on his death bed, the promise to return his bones for burial in Israel, because without fulfilling this promise, redemption will not happen.
But as they traveled out of Egypt, the Israelites were carrying more than mere remains. The late Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, taught us that we shouldn’t read the verse merely as saying Atzmotav Shel Yosef, Hebrew for “Joseph’s bones,” but Atzmutu Shel Yosef, or “Joseph’s essence.” Just as Joseph never gave up on his brothers and never gave up on the dream of returning home to Israel, so, too, would the Israelites continue to carry the same commitment forever and ever.
Then as now, we are all just walking each other home.
Here’s hoping we’ll soon have an independent investigation into what brought this tragedy about, so that we can grow wiser and learn from our mistakes. But for now, with the last hostage having returned home, we can finally start healing.
This essay was written by Ruby Chen, whose son, Itay, was killed on October 7. Itay's body was held by Hamas for 760 days before being returned to Israel.
