Even released hostages wash dishes
What I learned from the father and husband of former hostages
We’re six days out from Erev Rosh Hashanah, the first night of the holiday, and I haven’t made a menu yet. I’m not the kind of person to bake my desserts a week out and freeze them, ditto for the round challahs that Daniel will make, but I’m thinking that I’ve usually done some planning by now.
Not this year. It’s been hard to contemplate the start of a new year, to plan for it and get excited for what it could hold, for what could happen upon the fresh slate of a new year. All I can think about is that at this time last year, we had no idea what was coming our way, what Hamas was planning, what horrors and sorrows were about to be unleashed.
I thought a little bit about the Hebrew month of Elul during the shiva for Hersh Goldberg-Polin, when I heard the first sounds of the shofar being blown, and wrote about that for Hadassah Magazine.
But Rosh Hashanah was still far away in early September, and holiday meals, what to eat and who to eat with, preparation for leading morning services at my Jerusalem minyan, all that seemed superfluous, tremendously unimportant compared to soldiers and reservists heading north (including one of my beloved nephews), missile attacks from Hezbollah and the Houthis, including in Tel Aviv, hostage families in mourning and anguish, the bereaved, and on and on and on.
But then I think about something that I heard from Hen Avigdori, whose wife and daughter, Sharon and Noam, were held hostage for 50 days, along with Sharon’s sister-in-law, niece, great-niece and great-nephew, all taken together. Sharon’s brother, Avshalom Haran, was killed on October 7 by Hamas terrorists at his home in Be’eri, as the six of them were taken captive, having all slept over for the holiday weekend. Sharon’s niece’s husband, Tal Shoham, was also taken hostage, but separately, and is still being held there.
I’ve spoken to Hen several times in the last 12 months, as he continued rallying and working with the Hostages Forum even after his wife and daughter were released at the end of November, miraculously. He’s a comedy writer, and has worked on many Israeli shows, including political spoof “Eretz Nehederet” and “Hayehudim Baim,” (The Jews are Coming), although he’s just working on projects for now, enough to pay the bills, he said.
I saw him this week at a conference held at Jerusalem’s Mandel Center, during a one-day event focused on how children’s TV series, films and books will change in the wake of October 7, how to talk about the events of that day and this year and work it into their cultural realities.
During a panel that included a poet and two other writers, one a Haredi educator and the other Hadassah Ben-Ari, former wife of singer Hanan Ben-Ari, mother of their seven kids and author of a recently released book about October 7, Avigdori spoke about life after the miraculous return of his family.
He described the thousands of people who lined the streets leading to their Hod Hasharon home, waving flags and greeting his wife and daughter like the heroes they are. And then, once back in their apartment, it was all about letting life go back to some kind of normal, including doing the dishes.
Hen said that when he loads the dishwasher, someone usually walks around the house to gather up all the stray cups. And as he did that the very first night, he asked Noam, his 12-year-old daughter who had just spent more than six weeks in Gazan captivity, to gather up all the cups.
She reacted in typical teenage disbelief, as in, “Abba, are you kidding me? I just spent 50 days as a hostage in Gaza!”
And he retorted, with a laugh, “Well, it was much worse for me because I had to be worried about two of you in captivity,” a thought that put Noam in her place and sent her scurrying, searching for stray cups. We all laughed at the description.
“Humor isn’t escapism,” said Hen, “and it isn’t less important than deep conversations. Laugh as much as possible.”
I can get behind that, and am trying to follow his lead. And I’ll venture to say that preparing and cooking Rosh Hashanah dishes and practicing the high holiday tunes I need to remember on Thursday morning, are part of the same scheme.
I know I’ve said that before here, but clearly, I need the reminders. So I’m cracking open the cookbooks, leaning heavily on
’s “Sababa” and “Shabbat” along with Joan Nathan’s “My Life in Recipes” and “The Jewish Holiday Table” from . I’ve got my Google Drive high holiday tunes on repeat and will lean into all this as much as I can, remembering to laugh too.I’ll let you know in another note what I end up making, but for now, wishing us all a happier New Year, one that’s safe and healthy and with as much laughter as we can bear.
As your articles do so often, you Jessica, were able to verbalize what I feel and think but have not as yet been able to verbalize aloud.
May the New Year be quiet even boring compared to the turmoil of this year, may we have good health , cherished simchas to share with family and friends and less hatred in our world.
Please continue to share your immense talents by putting your thoughts and feelings on paper. Your writings , help us live more complete and open lives by facing our feelings and striving to be real without being judgmental of ourselves or others around us. Shanah Tova U’Metuka
On a purely literary front: I'd love to know more about that Mandel Center event, Jessica. I just checked the ToI site--I didn't see anything under your byline there yet about it, but maybe you have something in the works? Shabbat shalom, and thank you.