I have remarked previously on the diversity of my readership. This was brought home to me again this morning, just after I sent out my email explaining that delivery of this week’s post would be delayed.

Within half an hour, one dear, kind reader had written expressing the hope that all was well and nothing untoward was causing the delay. I was able to reassure her, along the lines that I will elaborate on below.

Just before her considerate email arrived, another reader WhatsApped me to complain about my messing with her head again, by ensuring that she would not know it was Tuesday.

Let me make it clear that I value both responses….indeed, any response. I think I am the blogging counterpart of a battered husband, craving any attention, however abusive. At the same time, I know which of these two correspondents is more likely to be getting a present from me in her Christmas stocking this year! Caveat lector.

And so, down to business, which, this week, is the problem. On Motzei Shabbat in shul, as we finished davening arvit, a fellow-congregant turned round to tell me that there was ‘good news’: over Shabbat, we had successfully rescued and brought home four hostages. In blog land, everything that happens has to be tested for its quality as grist to the blog mill. Most of that testing takes place, for me, starting with my walk home from Shul on Friday night and continuing until I upload my completed blog post on Sunday, Monday or, as this week, Tuesday. I am constantly mulling over what I am going to write about and how I am going to write about it. At times this mulling is further back in my consciousness; at times it is right up their front and centre; but it is always there.

Once I had heard the news of the rescue, I started thinking of what aspects of it I could write about. I gradually realised, over Saturday evening, that I actually felt less incentive to write about it than I would have expected. I’m not sure why that is, but I think it is in part because I wrote at length and fairly depressingly about ‘the situation’ last week, and I felt you, and I, deserved a week off. I also realised that my joy at the news was very tempered, and I felt that I was a little out of synch with the national mood, which, over Shabbat, was euphoric.

I’m not sure how to explain my reaction. Of course, the news that four hostages are reunited with their families is wonderful. The backstories of some of these hostages would be mocked in a Hollywood blockbuster, but they are heart-wrenchingly true.

Noa Argamani was probably the first human face of hostages after October 7, with the release of the video showing her being driven off on the back of a motorcycle, terrifiedly begging not to be killed. Her rescue came early enough to allow her to be reunited with her mother, suffering from stage-4 brain cancer. Tragically, it seems that Noa’s rescue may have been only just in time.

More tragic is the case Yossi Jan, the father of hostage Almog Meir Jan. Yossi lived alone. According to his sister, he has spent the last eight months at home, glued to the television, riding the rollercoaster of repeatedly raised and dashed hopes. During that time, his weight dropped 20 kilo. When the army were unable to reach Yossi with the news of Almog’s rescue, they contacted Yossi’s sister, who drove to Yossi’s home and found him dead on the settee.

As I contemplate the rescue, two facts refuse to leave my mind. The first is that the direct price, for Israel, of the rescue of these hostages was the equally precious life of Amon Zmora. I need to tall you two things about this man, and I honestly don’t know which to tell you first. In the context of the rescue, and in the context of Israel’s national destiny, he was Chief-Inspector Amon Zmora of the National Counterterrorism Unit (Yamam), a unit of the Border Police. This means he was a superbly trained, highly intelligent, fearless patriot. In the words of the commanding officer of the Border Police: “[He was a] brave and valuable fighter who put the security of state and the citizens of Israel first”.

In the context of his personal life, he was the 36-year-old husband of Michal and father of Noam and Itai. In the words of Michal: “He was a sweet and wonderful man, a fabulous partner and a perfect father. That’s how we’ll remember him, and hope you will, too.”

It is, of course, possible to remember him as both, as both the person he chose to be and the warrior he had no choice but to be. Which is more significant? I’m not sure I know. Perhaps, all I can say is that there are times when we are called upon to put aside our personal life for some time so that we can ensure that all of us can enjoy a personal life in the future. Some, heartbreakingly many since October 7, have been called upon to make the ultimate sacrifice in that situation, to pay for the nation’s future with their own personal future. What I am in no doubt about is that the nation of Israel, the Jewish people, and each of us individually owe a debt of gratitude to Amon, and to all of those who have given their lives, and whose lives have been ripped away, since October 7. The Government website today lists the names of 1328 Israeli civilians, and 75 other nationals, 650 individuals serving in the IDF, and 85 other security and first response personnel, killed on or since October 7. We all know that this is by no means the bottom line, but only an interim figure.

Four more hostages rescued. Perhaps the rescue of a handful of others may be possible, some of those also held above ground, in densely-populated civilian centres, prisoners in the homes of complicit Gazan civilians. The rescue alive of any hostages held underground is almost certainly impossible. We are now on Day 241 of October 7. 120 abductees have not yet been returned from incarceration in Gaza. Tzahal has confirmed that 43 of these are no longer alive. That means that no more than 77, at most, are still alive.

And that is the second fact that I cannot shake from my mind. 77, at most, are still alive. Probably, most of those are being held in tunnels, and, therefore, cannot be rescued alive. There is no more incentive, from Hamas’ point of view, to accept an agreement than there ever was. Each day tears Israel apart internally a little more. Each day isolates Israel internationally a little more. I hold out precious little hope of a hostage agreement, and precious little hope of further rescues, and precious little hope of a conclusive end to the war in Gaza. Precious little hope. But what hope I have is so precious!

In other news: next week should see us flying to Portugal on Monday, so I’m not 100% sure when I will be publishing. I will, however, be aiming for 7AM Portugal on Tuesday, which is the normal time. I know there are at least two of you who will feel reassured to hear that.

Between now and then: Chag Sameach (apologies, Andrea, for missing the start of your chag in Australia) and may we all hear good news.