By Leah Garber
Imagine a typical 20-year-old from the suburbs—a young man with dreams, potential, and a bright future. Edan Alexander was that person: an excellent student and a talented athlete, surrounded by childhood friends and family. His life could have followed a comfortable path in Tenafly, New Jersey, including plans to travel the world and build a successful career.
Edan chose a different journey.
At 18, he made a profound decision that would change everything. Heeding a call deeper than convenience, he left behind his comfortable life in America and moved to Israel—choosing to become a lone soldier, volunteering for the elite Golani Brigade, and dedicating himself to protecting the land he now called home.
On October 7, when the Hamas attack began, Edan could have been safely away. His mother, Yael, had flown to Israel specifically to spend time with him during Sukkot. Instead, he chose to remain on base near the Gaza border, ensuring his fellow soldiers wouldn’t have to shoulder extra guard duty alone. This selfless act speaks volumes about his character.
When the devastating attack began, Edan managed a brief call to his mother. “I’m seeing terrible things, like in World War II,” he told her. “I got a fragment in my helmet, but I’m okay.” Those were the last words she heard from her son. Their last conversation—until today.
Captured alongside 250 others—a diverse group including Israelis, Bedouins, Druze, foreign workers, and fellow soldiers—he remained a source of strength for his fellow hostages and his loved ones, offering comfort and hope. This heart-wrenching message came from the tunnels where Edan was held captive—a son trying to comfort his family even while enduring unimaginable conditions: “To Mom, Dad, Grandpa, Grandma, every passing day the pain inside grows, I miss you all so much, every day, I pray to see you again soon. Please stay strong. It’s only a matter of time until this nightmare ends.”
During the 584 days of his captivity, occasional signs of life have emerged, revealing Edan’s strength of character as he supported fellow hostages and offered them comfort despite his own suffering. In one video, likely dictated under pressure, Edan pleaded to President Trump: “It’s time to end this nightmare. To President Trump, my name is Edan Alexander. I am an American and Israeli citizen currently held captive in the Gaza Strip. As an American, I have always believed in the power of the United States, and now I am sending this message: Please use your power and influence to negotiate our release. Each day feels like an eternity here, and the pain inside grows day by day… I don’t want to die like Hersh, another American friend.”
His community in Tenafly never forgot him, enduring a collective wound since Edan’s abduction. For 584 days, they’ve shared the pain and grief. The Kaplen JCC on the Palisades held vigils with thousands participating and hung posters of Edan and all the other hostages, adding memorial or welcome home ribbons as the weeks and months unfolded. They co-hosted a community-wide Shabbat table for hostages, with Edan centered and also hosted the one-year memorial of October 7, at which Yael Alexander, Edan’s mom, was a featured speaker. This JCC, like most others across North America, maintains constant hope for the return of all hostages, embodying the true meaning of Jewish peoplehood and a deep understanding that when one suffers, we all suffer; when one returns, we all celebrate.
Yesterday, when news broke that Hamas would release Edan as a gesture of goodwill to the U.S. president, the Kaplen JCC quickly organized a community-wide gathering for this morning, so everyone could watch together, as one family, the moment their own Edan was returned to freedom. As early as 5 a.m., hundreds, having taken the day off from work and school, gathered in downtown Tenafly, warmed from the morning chill by their sense of belonging, clinging to that feeling of unity, and reveling, once again, what true community looks like. Wrapped in Israeli flags, they represented more than just a local community. They are a living embodiment of connection—proving that care transcends borders, that support knows no boundaries.
Edan has two homes. The same heartfelt welcome that awaited him today in New Jersey greeted him here in Israel, where thousands stood ready with Israeli flags, celebrating his arrival as he crossed the border and traveled toward the moment he would reunite with his family.
There is nothing in the world quite like the warm, soothing, and reassuring embrace of loving parents—the hug that Edan, after 584 days of captivity, was wrapped in today.
Even as the joy of Edan’s embrace in his family’s arms parts the heavy dark clouds, a profound sadness lingers. The frustration, worry, and deep fear for the 58 remaining hostages—at least 20 of whom are still alive—cast a shadow over this moment of great happiness. One can’t help but wonder where the hostage families find the strength to rise each morning, to once again begin their day with intense anticipation, continue it with fragile hope, and end it, time and again, with a painful disappointment. One that cuts to the soul.
Most of Israel’s public is calling for the immediate return of all hostages. Following 584 days, a nation stands exhausted but unbroken. Our soldiers are tired, their families are worn, cities need rebuilding, and the survivors of captivity need healing. Sadly, none of this is possible while 58 of us remain as hostages and in distress.
Edan’s return home is more than one young man’s story. It’s a powerful reminder of resilience, sacrifice, peoplehood, and the unbreakable bonds of community. It’s a reminder never to lose hope and that miracles happen.
Welcome home, Edan. An entire nation was waiting for you and today we finally rejoice with you. Though you are weak and weary, you are home—surrounded by those who love you.
Together, united, we will overcome.
Leah Garber is a senior vice president of JCC Association of North America and director general of its Center for Israel Engagement in Jerusalem.
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