Thoughts on the Release of the Hostages on the Eve of the Festival of Shemini Atzeret

 Rabbi Dov Gartenberg 

 Monday, October 13, 2025

Tonight begins the Biblical festival of Shemini Atzeret, followed by Simchat Torah in the diaspora. In Israel, these two festivals coincide on the same day. 

Two years ago, on this very festival, Hamas carried out the atrocities of October 7th. I remember that day vividly. As an observant Jew, I was in synagogue for Shemini Atzeret—which also fell on Shabbat—when we first heard the horrifying news of the unfolding massacres. 

Now, as we enter this festival once again, I cannot help but feel the deep and enduring connection between Shemini Atzeret and that tragic day. The season of Sukkot and Shemini Atzeret is known in our tradition as z’man simchateinu—“the season of our joy.” Iy is fitting that on the eve of Shemini Atzeret, the last remaining living hostages taken on that festival two years ago have finally been released. It certainly is a season of our joy.  

Our hearts are filled with overwhelming joy at their freedom, but also with profound sorrow—for those who died in captivity, and for the innocent Palestinians who perished amid the war that followed. As we celebrate this festival, we pray that the fighting has truly ended, and that a new day of peace and healing is beginning to dawn.

I am reminded of a story told to me by my shamash—the sexton of a congregation I served early in my career. He was a Holocaust survivor from the Hasidic Bubover community in southeastern Poland. He once described a man whose young wife had died just before the festival. According to Jewish law, mourning practices are suspended on the holidays, for we are commanded to rejoice on the festival with the community. My shamash recalled seeing this bereaved man dancing on Simchat Torah, striving somehow to join the community’s joy despite his private grief. I can scarcely imagine the inner struggle that must have been required by him. 

In this year, 5786 (2025), the tension between joy and sorrow feels especially raw. We rejoice in the return of the hostages, even as we grieve the immense losses that still weigh on our hearts. Joy and sorrow are no longer separate—they flow together, inseparable as the tears of release and remembrance. 

May the coming years bring a deepening of our collective joy, strong enough to heal the waves of sorrow that have marked this sacred season. 

Chag Sameach,  

Rabbi Dov Gartenberg