The lump in my throat

(JNS) —I am an optimistic guy, or at least I am in the public sphere. I definitely have my moments, but I try not to bring others down with me. Usually, I snap out of it quickly. It is 5:38 a.m. as I write these words after I was woken up by the pit in my stomach. I can’t shake the feeling.

Now, I know I’ve shared multiple posts expressing the nuance in this deal and specifically the joy we will all feel seeing live hostages hug their loved ones again.

Usually, with most events, that positive thought will outweigh the negative. This time is different. I know from past experiences that I should never watch those videos of our enemies celebrating what they call a victory. I know how deeply it disturbs me to see those things. I also know that their celebrations are baseless and that they won nothing.

This time is different.

I do badly want to believe that with this deal, there is more than meets the eye. I so badly want to believe that Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu was given a massive incentive to agree to this. Perhaps, there was a guarantee of an Abraham Accords 2.0. Maybe a guarantee that the United States will join Israel when it attacks Iran’s nuclear facilities. Or, maybe, it was a large financial or military incentive. Maybe, if one of those things is part of this deal, then I’d understand why Netanyahu agreed to this deal.

The thing is, I am told by someone in the know that there is no such incentive. I am told that Netanyahu agreed to this months ago, and now that Hamas agreed to it, the pressure was on him to accept “His plan” that he offered all those months ago. I am told that my brother Ari’s murderer could be part of this deal. (I am not saying we know he will be, but it is a possibility.) I find it hard to believe that there is nothing else going on behind the scenes, and I told that to my “source.”

He told me, again, that there aren’t any incentives.

I refuse to believe it. But chances are I am wrong, and I’m being optimistic where there is no room for optimism.

I try to grasp onto the good things, here. We’re getting our people back. “Only 200” out of the thousand we’re releasing are actual murderers. Yes, I fully understand the absurdity of celebrating 200 murderers going free, but I’m grasping here. We will have a few months of relative quiet. Of not losing soldiers. Our soldiers get a breather. My son, Tzvi, is in less danger. (Call me selfish all you want. You can’t understand how it feels until your son enters the hell on earth that is Gaza.)

These things are true, and they are good.

But I simply can’t get rid of this lump in my throat. I can’t get rid of this feeling that this is a disengagement 2.0. That our threats of “If they break the ceasefire …”  are bogus. That’s what we said after we left the Gaza Strip in 2005, “If one rocket is fired … .”  I can’t shake this feeling that, in the very near future, we will regret this deal when it comes back to haunt us.

Now, many have reassured me that all of this will change with President Donald Trump in office. Maybe they’re right. But how? Will Trump reverse the deal? Obviously not. He’s bragging about it. In fact, there are rumors that he was the one to pressure Netanyahu to take the deal. So, what exactly can Trump do for us?

I can’t, for some reason, find optimism here that will overpower the pit in my stomach. Why not? Because this time is different. This deal is killing me. Tragically, I am asking myself, for the first time ever, if those lunatics dancing in the streets of Gaza have a right to dance. Did they win? Now, hold up. There is no universe in which Hamas won this war. No matter how you spin it, they did not win. But did we? Is the war over? Did we fail to achieve both our objectives of obliterating Hamas and bringing our hostages back?

Maybe the war isn’t over, and Netanyahu knows exactly what he’s doing. Maybe. It wouldn’t be the first time. Maybe this is the thought I need to hold onto. Maybe that’ll calm me down. This war isn’t over. We will still win. Maybe Trump promised Netanyahu that as soon as he enters office, he’ll send over a massive amount of weapons that President Joe Biden refused to send and that Netanyahu will be able to instruct the Israel Defense Forces to end Hamas once and for all.

Maybe … but this darn deal. It’s so terrible. Releasing all those monsters? Pulling out of Gaza? Sending in insane amounts of aid to be stolen by Hamas? Not even getting all the hostages back? What the heck, Bibi?! I have muted my social media accounts, and I am going to try hard to ignore all the negativity. I won’t watch their celebrations. I won’t read all the pundits explaining why Israel just shot itself in the foot. I don’t want to know. Call it sticking my head in the sand. I call it maintaining my mental health.

So, here is my take. I can’t wait to see our people back home. The deal—if, indeed, it is simply what you see is what you get—is a disaster of historic proportions. Yet, it can’t be that simple. There must be more to it. And, honestly, the thing that brings me back from the sadness, fear and anxiety that this deal is causing me is one very big thing I am guilty of forgetting. There IS absolutely one thing that guarantees that this ends well: Hashem.

Hashem, God, has our back. We’ve been through darker times. We’ve been through much harder things. And we made it out alive and stronger. I don’t know how He is going to do it. I don’t know what role Trump will play, but I do know that it’ll be OK. Somehow.

So that’s it. I found the thing I need to grasp to feel optimistic again. Hashem. There. Solved. Thanks for listening. It was very therapeutic for me. Hashem has got our backs. We got this. Now we wait to cry tears of joy together as our loved ones cross the border into the Land of Israel. It is time for me to put away my political science degree, stop watching those infuriating videos, and bring out my prayer book. It is time to turn to God and say, “Hashem, we did what we can. Now it’s your turn. Do your thing. Work your magic. Because magic is what we need now for this to end well.”