Hostages Expected to be Released Within 72 hours—Ceasefire Agreement Signed

Elana and I stepped into the hotel elevator this morning, where a man and a woman were already standing. The woman turned to us and said, “Yesh heskem!” — “There’s an agreement!” It was such an unusual thing to say to strangers, but that’s the kind of moment we’re living in. Hope is in the air. You can feel it in the streets, in the smiles, even in random elevator encounters.

There is great joy in Jerusalem (where we are) and throughout Israel today. We already knew that Hamas had agreed to release the remaining hostages—fewer than twenty who are still alive—but waking up to the full picture felt different. Something had shifted.

About an hour earlier, before I knew about the historic breakthrough, I had sent a message to our family chat. One of our daughters, realizing we had just woken up here in Israel—she’s in the U.S.—asked, “Did you read the news?” My first thought was that something bad had happened. Sadly, that’s where our minds go these days—another antisemitic attack? A mass shooting? Maybe a new war somewhere? But when I opened The Times of Israel, I saw the headline: Hamas had accepted President Trump’s peace agreement.

They’re saying the hostages could be home by Sunday! Of course, our whole family is cautiously excited, knowing that many things can still go wrong over the next 72 hours.

Jerusalem Is Different

The reason we’re in a hotel is that we’re in Jerusalem for the Feast of Tabernacles (Sukkot). We came yesterday to meet some friends from the U.S. and to take six believers from Slovakia through the Old City and the City of David. Let me explain something: we haven’t done any tour guiding—something we love deeply—since March 2023. We had to cancel three different tours, and to be honest, since October 7, guiding has been the last thing on my mind.

The very texture of the country has felt different since then. There’s been a heaviness wherever you go. When I went to make a reservation at the hotel, we normally stay at—a small boutique hotel near the Jerusalem market—we were shocked that the price had more than doubled. We had been enjoying the “war prices”—rooms deeply discounted because no tourists were coming. But this time, for the first time since October 7, 20203, the hotel was full. And we were actually happy about it. The staff—Jews and Arabs—treats us like family, and seeing their smiles again felt like a small sign of restoration.

This Sukkot feels different. The old texture is back. I told our Slovakian friends that Jerusalem hadn’t been this crowded in two years—it was wall-to-wall with people. That morning, as I prepared to take them to the recently excavated Pool of Siloam, I wanted to make sure I had all my facts straight. The Pool of Siloam marks the path pilgrims once took from the bottom of the City of David up to the Temple to offer sacrifices—and that path just opened on September 15. 

I must have said to Elana ten times yesterday, “Something is different. It feels like Israel again.” The joy of guiding had returned. For the past two years, though, it has felt very much like what the exiles of Israel expressed in Psalm 137. Their captors demanded, “Sing us one of the songs of Zion!” But they answered, “How can we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land?”

If I forget you, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget its skill! Let my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth, if I do not remember you, if I do not set Jerusalem above my highest joy! 

The Rains Came!

That’s how it has felt—dry, parched, lifeless. The land itself is dry right now; there’s been no rain since March. Everything is brown and brittle, and that’s exactly how our souls have felt these past two years.

But this morning, something remarkable happened. Along with the announcement of the end of the war and the news that the hostages are coming home, there was a downpour in Ashkelon—where we live. We only got a few drops here in Jerusalem, but the 20 hostages (believing they have been moved above ground in light of the breakthrough) in Gaza, just a few miles south of Ashkelon, saw and smelled the first rains of winter. For Israelis, winter doesn’t begin with cold or snow, but with the first rain—the yoreh, the early showers that signal renewal.

Over the past few years, prophecy has become cheapened. Too many voices have rushed to social media claiming to speak for God. I’ve grown cautious—reluctant even—to call anything “prophetic.”

But today, I can’t help but believe that God sent that rain as a sign. A whisper from heaven saying, “I’m still here. I still see you.” Of course, we’ll know soon enough whether this war is truly over and our precious people return home. But today, the rain felt like mercy.

How It Came to Be

Here’s a brief sketch of how we arrived at this historic moment.

In late September 2025, President Trump unveiled a 20-point Comprehensive Plan to End the Gaza Conflict, proposing an immediate ceasefire if both sides agreed, a phased Israeli withdrawal, Gaza’s demilitarization, and the release of all hostages within 72 hours. Israel’s leadership publicly backed the plan, and Trump applied heavy pressure—warning of consequences if Hamas refused.

Over the following days, Hamas cautiously accepted key elements, especially the hostage-release provision, while seeking to amend other clauses regarding disarmament, governance, and withdrawal timelines. Mediators from Qatar, Egypt, and Turkey facilitated back-channel negotiations (meaning they put heavy pressure on Hamas to accept it!) that gradually bridged the gaps.

Finally, in the early hours of October 9, 2025, at Sharm El-Sheikh in Egypt’s Sinai Desert, both Israel and Hamas signed the first phase of the agreement—a ceasefire, the release of the remaining hostages (20 survivors), and a partial Israeli withdrawal to a mutually agreed line in exchange for the release of numerous Palestinian prisoners.

It appears that Hamas understood this was their last chance. Israeli forces were poised for a full-scale assault on Gaza City, while the U.S. president warned them bluntly that there would be no second opportunity. At the same time, regional powers—Egypt, Qatar, and even Turkey, long hostile toward Israel—pressed Hamas to accept the terms. Turkey, facing intense pressure from Washington and seeking U.S. concessions, joined the diplomatic front. With Iran sidelined and regional allies urging compromise, Hamas had no viable alternative.

Under the agreement, Hamas members will be offered the chance to disarm, renounce terrorism, and receive amnesty. Senior leaders, however, are expected to choose exile in countries such as Qatar or possibly Iran.

Practical Steps

• As of this writing, both Israel and Hamas are set to sign the deal within minutes.

• A few hours later, at 3 p.m. Israeli time, the Israeli cabinet will convene to approve it. Even hardliners appear resigned to support it. (Ministers are meeting now!)

• By 4 p.m., the full government is expected to give final approval.

• Within 24 hours, IDF forces will begin a phased withdrawal from parts of Gaza, remaining in roughly 53% of the territory.

• Within 72 hours, the hostages should be back on Israeli soil.

• Hamas has agreed to forego any propaganda ceremonies and to hand over the hostages quietly.

• On Sunday, President Trump is scheduled to arrive in Israel to address the Knesset, marking what could be one of the most historic moments in modern Middle Eastern history. Israel’s president, Isaac Herzog, just canceled a Sukkot event today, confirming that preparations are being made.

Israelis Respond

Across Israel, the mood is one of jubilation, expressed with deep emotion—while exercising caution, knowing that Hamas is not known for its honesty. The families of hostages were the most visibly moved — many gathered in Tel Aviv’s “Hostage Square,” where people wept, sang, and waved Israeli flags as news broke that their loved ones would finally be coming home. The square, long a symbol of anguish and activism, turned into a place of quiet celebration and prayer.

After two years of unrelenting tension and loss, there’s an unmistakable sense of collective exhale. Cafés in Tel Aviv and Jerusalem filled with people glued to screens, clapping when footage of hostages’ families appeared. For a day at least, Israelis seem united in something rare — relief, gratitude, and the hope that this time, maybe, peace might last.

We’re back home in Ashkelon—hopeful, yet cautious. It was exactly two years and two days ago that Hamas invaded Israel, killing 1,200 Israelis and kidnapping nearly 250. It has been a dark and heavy season for our nation. But tonight, as the first rains fall and the promise of peace feels within reach, we dare to believe again. May we see better days ahead.