It was quite late on Sunday evening that an email was shared about the fact that Edan Alexander was to be released from captivity on Monday and everyone was invited to Huyler Park in Tenafly to demonstrate support, relief and celebration for the Alexander family who are Tenafly residents.
In my estimation it did not matter where Edan was from. He is related to each of us. The Jewish people are one family no matter where our home is. Without a moment of hesitation I knew that I needed to be there. At 4:40 in the dark and eerie hours of the almost-morning I took off for Tenafly. I arrived to find an amazing sight: Hundreds of people already gathering, facing towards a huge screen set up to watch the constant updates on the Israeli news. Israeli flags were everywhere and blue and white was the color of the day. I thought many times, primarily to myself, how horrifying it would be if this were just another one of the lies that we have been fed so many times by Hamas. What if this was just a ploy?
The time of the official release kept changing. Many who came early left for work and others arrived. All day long there was singing, music, updates and a yearning to finally see the face of Edan back in his homeland. Will it really happen, I wondered. At the peak of the day there were over 1,000 people mingling, all there for only one reason—to support the Alexander family and to see Edan. We watched as his mother Yael deplaned in Israel and was rushed by helicopter to where she would get to see Edan for the first time after so long. Again, I worried that this was some sort of ploy.
The result you all know. Finally, finally there he was, first on the screen surrounded by two Hamas animals and a member of the Red Cross. Then he was turned over to the Israeli soldiers anxiously waiting to take him back to Israel to receive whatever care he might need as well as the creme de la creme, his reunion with his mother and then later with the rest of his family.
As I stood there, my mind kept reminding me of the other hostages and their families. How excruciatingly difficult this scenario had to be for them. I get it. He is an American and he had the president of the United States advocating for him but please, world, let us not forget the others.
Let us remember that Edan had such pride in his birthplace that he insisted on returning and joining the IDF. He knew where his home actually was, and is, and what a price he paid for his dedication and solidarity. His entire family deserves every drop of admiration for never forgetting their roots and for what they have taught their children. Yet I implore the people of Tenafly and all of us in Chutz La’Aretz to not forget the others.
The walks will and must continue as well as all of the prayers that must be screamed to the heavens to get our brothers and sisters out of the hell holes in which they are barely living.
Watching the crowd, with an eye glued to the screen, partaking in the vibrant music and seeing the nissim of our people, I indeed felt proud. Immediately there were minyanim gathering for the men to daven Shacharit. People I met told me their stories of why they felt the need to be there. I asked a cute little boy why he was there and he responded that he was there for Edan. As his mother explained to me, little Jesse, who is 7, has a picture of Edan on the wall in his room and would pray for him each day. He hopes to meet him in person one day soon. (I’m sure that he will!) Yes, it is true that Tenafly has a large Israeli population, but so many from neighboring communities were there as well. One man told me that he came from Easthampton, Long Island because he needed to see this unity among our people.
I closed my eyes for a second and remembered well the many times so many years ago that we would gather in large crowds in the same manner for similar reasons. How many times did we go to downtown Montreal and to Ottawa to march and scream and yell in front of the Russian compounds in both cities? 2-4-6-8- Open Up the Iron Gate! I will never forget those words as we screamed and yelled on behalf of Russian Jewry as we shlepped our babies in strollers to make our voices heard. That day that Natan Schransky finally walked across the bridge to his freedom is forever implanted in my mind. 1986 was the year. Here I am still demonstrating in the year 2025 and my intention is to never stop as long as I am able.
I was deeply moved by the words Edan’s grandmother used as soon as she and her husband saw Edan on the TV screen they had been glued to all day surrounded by anxious family members. After everything they had been through, she said, “Hodu l’Hashem ki tov ki l”olam chasdo.” Give thanks to the Lord for he is good.” I began to cry when I heard her say those words and headed to my car after a very long, worthwhile day.
