Joy and grief: South African family witnesses reunion

South African Saul Jassinowsky described standing in Hostage Square in Tel Aviv on 13 October surrounded by families whose lives had been suspended in uncertainty for more than two years as epitomising “the duality of Jewish existence”.

Jassinowsky and his family were invited to the hostage families’ room to witness the last 20 living hostages finally released from Hamas captivity, surrounded by former hostages and the families of those released. It was a moment that held unbearable grief and indescribable joy, simultaneous heartbreak of loss and relief of reunion.

“We have to carry both realities,” he said quietly. “It’s difficult, and it’s not fair. It’s bizarre that we have to celebrate captives returning, and at the same time celebrate having bodies returned for burial.”

For Saul and his wife, Shevi, the experience was deeply personal. Over the past two years, they have built close familial relationships with many of the released hostages through and in gratitude to the Jewish National Fund and The Base shul. When they heard that the remaining hostages were finally coming home, they immediately flew to Israel to stand alongside them.

“We have friends who’ve been through this, friends who were released, and close friends still waiting for their family to come home,” Jassinowsky said. “We told them, we don’t expect anything, we just want to be here with you, to hold you, to support you, to stand beside you.”

Many of these connections grew into something much deeper. “We see them when we’re in Israel and speak almost weekly,” Jassinowsky said. “We’ve got to know them well. They’ve become part of our family, and we’ve become part of theirs. This felt almost like a family moment, but in truth, the whole of Israel feels like one family right now, wherever you are”

As soon as Shabbat ended on 11 October, the Jassinowskys went straight to Hostage Square. It was alive in a way it had never been before. “The vibe in the square was indescribable,” he said. “We asked one of the women at a stall how long she thought this could go on, and she said, ‘I don’t know, we’ve never had a happy event here before.’ The MC opened the evening by saying, ‘Good evening, everyone, and for the first time, it really is a good evening.’ Ever since then, the whole place was buzzing – emotional, stressed, anxious, and joyous all at once.”

That night, the roads around the square were shut down as thousands of people flooded the streets, dancing, crying, waving flags, wrapped in blue and white. “My children went to the merchandise stand and wanted to buy things, and I was so happy and relieved to tell them that we didn’t need those items anymore,” he said, his voice breaking. “We don’t need yellow ribbons anymore. We don’t need t-shirts that say, ‘Bring Them Home.’”

The Jassinowskys never intended to be inside the hostage families’ room that night. They simply wanted to be nearby, to stand with the people of Israel and share in their collective sigh of relief. But some of the released hostages he and his wife had grown close to invited them to join the families in their inner sanctum.

Inside the room, the emotion was overwhelming. “A lot of the released hostages were both joyous and anxious,” Jassinowsky said. “They know who they’re dealing with better than anyone else, and until our brothers actually stepped off the buses, there was no certainty that they’d really be freed.”

When the moment finally came, it was beyond words. “I turned to Aviva Siegel, and said, ‘Your boys are back,’” he said, referring to brothers Gali and Ziv Berman, the last two hostages from Kfar Aza who hadn’t been returned. “She’s known them their whole lives. Everyone was holding their breath, waiting. It felt like Yom HaZikaron and Yom Ha’atzmaut at the same time – mourning and celebration in one heartbeat.”

Jassinowsky described the night as one of privilege and profound connection. “A former hostage came up to us over and over again, saying, ‘I’m so happy you’re here. I’m so happy you’re here for this.’ We felt lucky, connected, and blessed to be able to stand in Israel and feel the joy and the pain.”

He described the immense sense of sorrow amidst the elation. “People were crying and strangers were hugging them,” he said. “In a sukkah over yom tov, a mother was crying because her daughter was devastated as the bodies came back. I put my arms around her. Earlier that day, when I was crying, a stranger took hold of my hand. That’s the beauty and the power of this country – the connection; the empathy; the strength of the Jewish people. This fight has been everyone’s fight.”

The Jassinowskys’ friends, the Perez family, received news of the return of the body of their son, Daniel Perez, a soldier whose remains had been in Hamas captivity for two years. His name, through the incredible strength of his parents and siblings, has become a symbol of endurance and faith throughout Israel and the Jewish world.

“For us, Daniel’s story made this moment even more complex,” Jassinowsky said. “While the country was celebrating the release of the living, another family we love – and which is loved by the South African Jewish community – was burying their child. The joy of one miracle exists alongside the unbearable pain of another tragedy. That’s what it means to be part of Am Yisrael – we all carry each other’s joy and sorrow.”

For the Jassinowskys, returning to Israel at this moment was also an act of healing. “One of the reasons we came was because my family was here on 7 October,” he said. “Since then, my eldest daughter has carried that trauma. She and I have a close friend who has been serving in the army. We needed to close the circle for her and for us, to show her that the war is over, that the hostages are home. To let her celebrate, to heal her, to heal us as a family and a Jewish people. Because really, all Jewish families have been living through the same pain.”

As music echoed through Hostage Square and flags waved high, Jassinowsky looked around at the strangers who felt like brothers and sisters, at the tears and laughter mixing in the air, and said quietly, “This is the duality of the Jewish existence, to cry and dance in the same breath, to hold heartbreak in the one hand and hope in the other.”

In everlasting memory of Daniel Shimon ben Ha’Rav Doron Eliezer and Sharon.