By: Nomi Kaltmann as seen in ABC

24 October 2025

In Judaism, burial is considered one of the most sacred acts a person can perform. In Hebrew it is called Chessed Shel Emet, “true kindness”, because the dead can never thank or repay the living for burying them.

This is a phrase that has echoed in my mind these past few weeks, as Israel and Hamas remain locked in tense negotiations over the return of the remaining 13 bodies of Israeli hostages who died in Hamas captivity. To many people outside the Jewish community, the idea of fighting for the return of bodies can seem hard to grasp. Why would Israel go to such lengths to recover the remains of the dead?

The answer lies in how Judaism approaches death and mourning. Jewish belief holds that the neshama, the soul, hovers close to the body and cannot find peace until burial. The soul cannot rest until the body has been returned to the earth. This is why family members who live overseas are sometimes prepared to miss a burial of a loved one rather than delay it. The peace of the deceased usually takes priority over the comfort of the living.

If you’ve ever had a Jewish friend die and found yourself wondering whether you could make the funeral, you will know how quickly it all happens. A person can die in the morning and be buried that same afternoon. There is no embalming, no public display and, wherever possible, no delay. From the moment of death, the body is handed to the Chevra Kadisha, the Jewish burial society, and watched over constantly by family or friends who recite psalms until burial.

Under the care of the Chevra Kadisha, the body is washed, immersed seven times in a mikveh (ritual bath), and dressed in a plain white shroud. It is placed in a simple wooden coffin, never an elaborate one, with a small amount of soil from the Holy Land. In Israel, many people are buried without a coffin at all, just wrapped in a shroud and lowered straight into the ground. The simplicity of Jewish burial is precisely the point — in death, everyone is equal, returning to the earth from which they came.

This perhaps helps explain why the families of the murdered Israeli hostages have been so determined to bring the bodies of their loved ones home. Beyond closure, they want to fulfil a sacred religious duty: to give their loved ones the dignity of burial and allow their souls to find peace. Until the bodies are returned, the families of the deceased hostages cannot begin shiva, the seven-day period of mourning that follows a death in Judaism.

Shiva is where healing begins. It is when friends bring food, comfort the family and share stories that recall the life of the departed. It is where grief becomes communal, where people drop in without an invite and spend time with the mourning family, supporting them through this difficult time. Without a burial, there can be no shiva. Without shiva, grief in Judaism has no structure and no ritual outlet. It stretches on indefinitely. Since 7 October 2023, the families of the Israeli hostages remain in limbo, unable to mourn properly, despite knowing their loved ones have been killed.

In Israel, people understand that for the country to move forward and close the traumatic chapter which began on 7 October, these deceased hostages must be brought home for ritual burial. Their return is not only about individual families but about national healing. The entire country feels suspended between life and death, between what has been buried and what has not.

Some families have appealed directly to US President Donald Trump and his envoy to the Middle East, Steve Witkoff, urging them to “pull out every stop and leave no stone unturned” to return the bodies. Trump has publicly committed to help, writing on Truth Social, “the dead have not been returned, as promised!” and acknowledging how desperate these families are for the chance to bury their loved ones.

From Australia, I have closely followed the struggle to bring home both the living hostages and now the dead. It is painfully clear to me how deeply the families yearn to lay their loved ones to rest and finally begin mourning. For them, the return of a body is about faith and completing a sacred act of burial.

A body brought home allows a soul to rest, and my community to honour one of the oldest commandments we have — to care for the dead with true kindness.