Some Cornellians may have noticed the two empty strollers standing at Ho Plaza with posters in the final days of February, with orange balloons and an Israeli flag. This display was in memory of the Bibas family, an Israeli mother and her infant and baby boys, who were killed while in the custody of their Palestinian captors who abducted them from their home on Oct. 7, 2023, as part of the devastating Hamas attack on Israel. Their bodies have been recently released as part of a ceasefire agreement that included the release of 33 hostages (most of them alive) kept by Hamas and other Islamist organizations in Gaza in exchange for hundreds of Palestinian prisoners and detainees (including individuals who were convicted of murder and terrorist attacks).
The day and week of their release was one of the most difficult days faced by Israelis and the Jewish community worldwide since the war began. The image of mother Shiri Bibas, holding her two redheaded children surrounded by militants while trying to protect them, became one of this ongoing tragedy’s most terrible symbols. They were taken alive and were returned in coffins. The empty strollers, candles and balloons — organized by Cornellians for Israel, or CFI — were a testimony to the significance and impact of this symbol. Some Cornellians have personal connections to these stories, and it’s moments like the week of the Bibas family’s “release” that are especially painful.
The Bibas family’s story is only one of many. Entire families were butchered in their homes, or on their way to or from a family outing. I urge you to look up the names of the Kedem family, the Kutz family and the Kapitscher family. All of them were families with infants and children, who were erased in one moment. Dozens of Israeli children were murdered, sometimes literally slaughtered, by Hamas or other Palestinian militants on Oct. 7 and in captivity. Many more children and babies were orphaned. More than 250 people — Jews, Muslims, Israelis, Thais, Americans and many others of all ages — dead and alive (most of them civilians) were abducted from Israel, and taken to Gaza on October 7th. There are still 59 hostages held by Hamas. More than 20 are believed to be alive, including one living American hostage, Edan Alexander, along with other Americans who are already dead, used as pawns in a sick game of power and fanaticism. All this does not in any way diminish the pain and anguish of Palestinians in light of the ongoing war and its horrors in Gaza, but rather offers some more information on a topic that seems to be not well enough recognized in our community.
What lingers heaviest on most Israelis and many Jews today — including here at Cornell, are not the lives lost, but the lives that can still be saved: the people who are still held hostage in Gaza. That is why every week since the beginning of the crisis there has been a recurring event under the title “Run for Their Lives,” a running group, organized by members of the Jewish and Israeli communities in Ithaca, that operates in all weather and that advocates the immediate release of the hostages. For whatever one believes, whether you consider yourself “pro-Palestine” or “pro-Israel,” it is difficult to argue with the observation that what had started this war was the murderous attack and abduction of the hostages and that the immediate return of all the hostages is also what can end it, and what could have ended it all along.
One of the Israelis who was released from Hamas captivity as part of the recent ceasefire deal is Eli Sharabi, 53. His story and unique message have turned him into a role model for many, and are worth conveying to the Cornell community.
Sharabi is a man who lost everything on Oct. 7, 2023. When he was released from Hamas captivity, he found out that his wife Lianne and two daughters — Yahel and Noiya — were all killed in the Hamas attack on their home and village community. The terrorists who invaded their house killed the dog in front of the entire family before kidnapping the family’s father. Just before his release, his sadistic captors lied to him and told him that he was about to meet his wife and girls.
But Eli Sharabi is not looking for revenge. Soon after his release, he asked to be interviewed. When asked why he decided to face the cameras with such urgency, he responded without hesitation: “We must not leave anyone behind. … There is a boy there … and he entered my heart. I promised I would not leave him there, that I will fight for him.” The “boy” is Alon Ohel, a 24-year-old young civilian man (he was 23 when taken to Gaza), a talented musician and a pianist, who was abducted to Gaza from the Nova music festival. He is currently wounded, and — according to eyewitnesses — shackled, held in a tunnel underground and in general bad shape.
For Sharabi, the most urgent cause was not to tell the story of his murdered family, his girls and his wife. He fights now for one living hostage, who as he described it, he “adopted” when they were held together. Sharabi survived a lynching attack by a Gazan mob, torture, starvation, assaults by his captors and more. But still, Sharabi doesn’t seek revenge. He seeks to bring back the precious lives that are still held in captivity.
According to an ancient Jewish tradition, saving one life is equivalent to saving an entire world, a saying that Sharabi repeats in his interview, a saying that is at the basis of “Run for Their Lives” and similar initiatives worldwide (of which there are many). The remaining hostages in Gaza are begging our attention. They are begging the world, and I am begging the world with them — for mercy, for compassion and for their immediate release.
Rhona Burns is a postdoctoral associate at Cornell University’s Jewish Studies Program. She is Israeli. She can be reached at rb949@cornell.edu.
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