“If he was able to write it, what excuse do I have not to read it?” I was referring to Eli Sharabi’s new memoir, Hostage, a harrowing recounting of his time in Gaza. The person I was speaking with, who had just finished the book, warned me not to read it before bed. So on the morning of Dec. 25, with the bright Colorado sunlight streaming, I read Sharabi’s horrific tale. I read it in bright Colorado sunshine, natural light that Sharabi was deprived of for over a year. I read it with pauses for breakfast, the kind of access to food that Sharabi was deprived of for over a year. I read it with my husband in the same room, knowing that Sharabi’s wife and two daughters were brutally taken from him on Oct. 7, 2023.
And yes, I had nightmares for the following two nights. Anyone who feels able should read Sharabi’s book, but be prepared: It’s devastating.
Yet within the devastation is an irony so many of us have lived with since Oct. 7, 2023. That nadir contained heroism and humanity — from people like Aner Shapira, mentioned in the book, who sacrificed his life to try to protect the infamous bus shelter at Kibbutz Re’im — to all of the hostages, the living ones who persevered against all odds, and the deceased ones, who brought together thousands of people from across the world in solidarity.
Hostage reminded me again how familiar the hostages were — no last names needed. After reading a passage about Hersh, Ori and Almog*, knowing their ultimate tragic fate, I was struck by a thought I’ve had since Oct. 7. Look how many people they reached! Look how many people they inspired! Look at their impact!
In a world that seems more chaotic, venomous and selfish by the day, the hostages and their families became the heroes, the role models, that we all need.
Hostage also revives anger — at the International Committee of the Red Cross, which did not visit a single Hamas hostage a single time; at the UN, which to date has never condemned Hamas as a terror organization and which took five month to acknowledge sexual violence perpetrated by Hamas on Oct. 7 and after; for the European countries that did not advocate for their citizens being held captive; at the ICRC for allowing Hamas its grotesque hostage-release ceremonies, such as the one Sharabi was forced to partake in.
Another feeling: pride, in the US, the only country aside from Israel that never faltered in its support of the hostages, no matter their individual religion, ethnicity or citizenship. Growing anti-Semitism, including here in the US, can leave us feeling despondent. But remember, both Democratic and Republican administrations recognized the humanitarian crisis of the hostages. That’s what it means to be American.
I have no idea how the world works, but I know that as I sit here, Dec. 25, 2025, I am filled with gratitude for people like Eli Sharabi, who exemplify love and humanity in a way that almost seems fantastical.
We are blessed to have heroes like him.
Shana Goldberg may be reached at shana@ijn.com
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