The past few days since the remaining living hostages were finally released have been emotional to say the least. Thanks to a ceasefire deal brokered in partnership by the US, families are being reunited after an unimaginable two years of separation. I am putting it here that at the time of this writing, there are still 20 bodies of Israeli civilians remaining in Gaza. May they be returned swiftly and with dignity.
I have been watching the emotional reunions between the survivors and their families. Each one is more touching than the next, and what strikes me most is how inspiring these people are. Their lives have been hell, both the survivors and the families, for the past two years. And yet they emerged from the depths of despair with stories of their conversations with God, the prayers they recited. I’m sure I could write fifty articles on the faith that has come from these times. Today I want to tell you a bit about Bar Kuperstein, his father Tal, and the anthem of their victory: something that has come straight from the Bible.
Bar Kuperstein spent two years in Hamas captivity. When he was released on Monday, there’s a video that will break your heart and then put it back together again. In it, Bar sees his father Tal standing, truly standing, for the first time in years. Tal had suffered a stroke during surgery five years ago and had been wheelchair-bound ever since. But during his son’s captivity, Tal relearned how to speak. He relearned how to advocate. He pushed his broken body to be ready for the moment when he could embrace his son again, standing on his own two feet.
Twenty-four hours after Bar’s release, the Kuperstein family danced with the Torah for Simchat Torah, the holiday celebrating the completion and renewal of the Torah reading cycle. They sang a song that has become an anthem in Israel over the past few years: “V’afilu b’hastara sheb’toch ha’hastara, b’vadai gam sham nimtza Hashem yitbarach. Gam me’acharei ha’dvarim ha’kashim ha’ovrim alecha, ani omed.” In English: “Even in the concealment within the concealment, surely God is found there too. Even behind the difficult things you are going through, I stand.”
How does a family emerge from two years of living hell and dance? How does a father who couldn’t walk or speak find the strength to stand and embrace his son? And where does this song, this declaration of unwavering faith, come from?
Where Is God When Evil Wins?
The song the Kupersteins sang comes from the teachings of Rabbi Nachman of Breslov, an eighteenth-century Hasidic master and the great-grandson of the Baal Shem Tov, founder of the Hasidic movement. Rabbi Nachman lived a life marked by illness, loss, and exile, yet he became known for his teachings on joy, faith, and finding God even in the darkest places. His magnum opus, Likutei Moharan, contains 286 lessons that blend biblical interpretation, mysticism, and practical spiritual guidance.
In lesson 56 of Likutei Moharan, Rabbi Nachman addresses one of the most difficult verses in all of Scripture, a verse that comes at the end of the Torah itself. Moses stands before the people of Israel, knowing he will not cross into the Promised Land with them. This is his farewell address, his final charge to the nation he has led for forty years. And God tells him something devastating: your people will break my covenant. They will turn to other gods. And when they do, this is what will happen:
The Hebrew phrase is “v’anochi haster astir panai,” literally, “And I, hide I will hide My face.” The doubling of the word for hiding, haster astir, caught Rabbi Nachman’s attention. Why does God say “hide I will hide” instead of simply “I will hide”?
Rabbi Nachman explains that there are two levels of concealment. The first level is when you know God is hidden. You feel distant from Him, you struggle with faith, but you at least know that something is missing. You know to search. But there is a second, deeper level: a concealment within the concealment. This is when the hiding itself is hidden. When you don’t even know that you’re supposed to be looking for God. When evil becomes so normalized that you forget there should be good. When darkness becomes so total that you forget what light looks like.
This is haster astir, the concealment within the concealment. And it describes not just the Israelites turning away from God in the wilderness, but every dark moment in history when God seems absent. When the Temple burned. When empires rose against Israel. When six million perished in the Holocaust. When young people are dragged from their homes and held in tunnels beneath Gaza for two years.
But Rabbi Nachman’s teaching doesn’t end with the darkness. He says: “Even in the concealment within the concealment, surely God is found there too. Even behind the difficult things you are going through, I stand.”
This is the radical claim at the heart of Jewish faith. God doesn’t promise that we won’t suffer. He doesn’t promise that evil won’t touch us. The verse in Deuteronomy makes that clear: there will be times when God’s face is hidden, when His anger burns, when terrible things happen. But even then, especially then, He is present. Even when we cannot see Him, He sees us. Even when we cannot feel Him, He is there. Standing behind the darkness. Standing behind the pain. Standing.
The context of this verse makes it all the more powerful. This comes at the very end of the Torah, at the conclusion of Deuteronomy. The Jewish people stand on the banks of the Jordan River, about to cross into the Promised Land. These are Moses’ final words, his valedictory speech to the nation he has shepherded through the wilderness. God is warning Moses: your people will still do wrong. They will break my covenant. My anger will flare up. I will abandon them and hide. And yet, even in that hiding, I remain.
The Anthem of Victory
The Kuperstein family dancing with the Torah and singing Rabbi Nachman’s words is not naive optimism. It is not pretending that two years of captivity didn’t happen, or that Tal didn’t suffer a stroke, or that Bar didn’t endure horrors we may never fully know. It is the declaration that even in the deepest darkness, even in haster astir, the concealment within the concealment, God was there. He stood behind every prayer Bar whispered in captivity. He stood behind every word Tal relearned so he could advocate for his son. He stood behind every moment that seemed hopeless.
This is what Moses was really telling the Israelites at the end of Deuteronomy. Yes, you will fail. Yes, there will be consequences. Yes, God will hide His face. But even in that hiding, He will not abandon you. The covenant is not broken by one party’s failure when the other party is eternal.
Tal Kuperstein stood on his own two feet to embrace his son. Bar Kuperstein emerged from two years in hell with his faith intact. And together, they danced. Because the song is true. Even in the concealment within the concealment, God is found there too. Even behind the difficult things we go through, He stands.
