25/10/2025
I just finished reading Hostage by Eli Sharabi, and I need to tell you this book shook me to my core. I invite you to read this book. Let it break your heart a little. Let it open your soul a lot.
Eli was a regular guy. A husband, a dad, living peacefully in Kibbutz Be’eri, until October 7, 2023. That morning, terrorists broke into his home. They murdered his wife, Lianne, and his two beautiful daughters, Noiya (16) and Yahel (13). And they took him, barefoot, blindfolded, and bleeding, into Gaza.
He spent 491 days as a hostage. 491 days of hunger. 491 days of beatings, humiliation, and darkness. 491 days clinging to one simple truth: I will survive.
He wrote this book right after being released, no filter, no polish, no “safe distance” from the pain. It’s raw, real, and human in a way that almost feels sacred.
Eli writes about the worms, the sewage, the endless fear. But he also writes about Kiddush on Friday nights in a Gaza tunnel, just water in a cup, whispered blessings, and a spark of light in the deepest darkness. He writes about choosing to find one good thing every day, even when there was no good thing to find.
This isn’t just a story of survival.
It’s a story about the human soul, about what it means to keep believing, even when belief feels impossible.
He says: “There is no more regular Eli. From now on, I am Eli the survivor.” That line hit me.
Today, it’s our sacred duty to bear witness to what happened, to the unimaginable cruelty, to the lives shattered, to the truth so many choose to ignore.
As the world grows numb to suffering, as too many turn away or twist the story to erase the pain of innocent Israelis who were murdered, tortured, and taken, we cannot stay silent.
Eli Sharabi is our witness. His story is not just his own; it’s the voice of every soul who endured the unthinkable. We owe it to him, and to them, to listen, to remember, and to let it pierce our hearts.
Because when the world forgets, memory becomes an act of courage
Hostage is not an easy read. But it’s an essential one. It’s a witness to the horrors of October 7. It’s a prayer for the bodies of those waiting for burial. And it’s a love letter to life itself. If you read one book this year, let it be this one.
Because when you close the last page, you won’t just understand Eli’s story, you’ll understand something about your own strength, your own faith, your own light.
With a trembling heart and deep love,
Rabbi Yisroel Bernath
