on Oct. 19, 2025. (Photo credit: Yonatan Sindel/Flash90 via JNS)
Sarah N. Stern
One of the things that has made the Jewish people so unique and has led to our survival throughout history is the sanctity placed upon human life. In Deuteronomy (Chapter 30, Verse 19), it is written: “I have placed life and death before you, blessing and curse; and you shall choose life, so that you and your offspring will live.”
That is why the Jewish community has struggled with feelings of ecstasy at the homecoming of the remaining living hostages, who have been held for two years in the most brutal conditions imaginable, coupled with pain at those whose bodies are slowly coming back to Israel.
As the U.S.-led 20-point Mideast peace plan elucidates, not only do the Israeli families who have been through such tremendous suffering over the last two years crave their loved ones, there also needs to be a proper burial for the deceased to help place some partial emotional closure on their suffering.
But there is another dig: the release of some of the vilest murderers imaginable as part of the cease-fire between Israel and Hamas in Gaza.
For every live human hostage that was released, 100 Palestinian prisoners were released. They received a “hero’s welcome,” with enormous crowds encircling their buses and rushing to embrace them. We watched as prisoners exited making the “V” sign with their fingers: victory for anti-Israel hatred and terror.
The government’s decision was not made lightly; it was the result of months and months of negotiation, reflection and agonizing debate among leaders, citizens and religious authorities alike. Many struggled to reconcile the imperative to save innocent lives with the anguish of knowing justice for past atrocities remained elusive.
Among those released are Iyad Abu al‑Rub, identified as a commander for Palestinian Islamic Jihad in Jenin — convicted for involvement in suicide bombings, he is scheduled for deportation as part of the agreement; Imad Qawasmi, 52 of Hamas, convicted for the 2004 Beersheva bus bombing that killed 16 Israelis, also designated for deportation; Muhammad Aref Samhan of the Fatah party and a member of Al-Aqsa Martyrs Brigades, convicted for 2003 Jerusalem bus bombing that killed 23 Israelis; Raad Abd al‑Aziz of Fatah, convicted of murder, attempted murder and weapons offenses; and Omar Mahmoud Basis of Palestinian Islamic Jihad, responsible for multiple fatal explosive attacks during the Second Intifada.
There are so many others, each responsible for heinous crimes. Every name added to the list of released prisoners brings its own story of violence and sorrow — whether members of Hamas, Fatah or Palestinian Islamic Jihad — highlighting the fact that if one changes from his army fatigues to a suit and a tie, it does not make a hardened terrorist into a Jeffersonian Democrat.
These difficult choices highlight the tension between moral conviction and practical necessity, compelling us to examine what it truly means to uphold the sanctity of life in a world fraught with violence and injustice. We are reminded that every decision in such circumstances carries profound ethical weight, shaping not only the fate of individuals but the values that have defined our community. Recent events serve as a stark illustration of the complexities inherent in pursuing both justice and compassion amid ongoing conflict.
For many, the joy of reunion was tempered by a sense of fear for what the future may hold. The moral complexity of exchanging innocent lives for those guilty of unspeakable crimes has tested the fabric of our collective conscience, forcing us to confront the painful realities of conflict and the high cost of reunification. These events have also reignited discussions about the responsibilities of leadership and the burdens placed upon decision-makers in times of crisis.
However, the vast consensus among Jews is that we would do anything, at practically any cost, to retrieve our hostages.
The harder part is beginning now. Hamas must completely disarm. Like so many visions for peace in the past, the Palestinians mouth words of acceptance, yet their actions speak otherwise. How is one to regard the extensive murder by Hamas of their political rivals, filmed by them and broadcasted widely? If this is how they treat their fellow Palestinians, then what would they do to Jews, given the opportunity?
This stark contrast between relief and anguish has left many grappling with complicated emotions held in our hearts at once — torn between gratitude for the miracle of life preserved and sorrow at the heavy price paid for it. It reminds us of the profound value Judaism places on every single life and the difficult choices that arise when those values are being put to the test.
Sarah N. Stern is the founder and president of the Endowment for Middle East Truth (EMET), a think tank that specializes in the Middle East.
