WE ALL REMEMBER the headlines that accompanied Terry A. Anderson out of Lebanon in December. The last American hostage in the Middle East had been freed. An era of kidnappings, death threats and black-and-white prison photos had come to a close.

It was, in fact, a sickening sight: The newly released hostages pictured in their first news briefing beneath the all-knowing gaze of Syrian President Hafez el-Assad. We had to thank our suddenly pro-Western friends, Iran and Syria, for their deep concern for human life.

We should have recognized them as dictatorial regimes pandering for money before democracies. That's all. Nothing else.

But before we pack up those "Number of Days in Captivity" signs and heave a sigh of relief that our new-found allies have finally read Locke and Rousseau, we need to take a closer look.

There are thousands of hostages still being held in the Middle East. I can name 4000 to start.

They're all Jews. They're all trapped in Syria. And with a guy like Assad staring down at them day and night, their prospects for a freer life in the near future appear dim at best.

TODAY IS A DAY observed across the globe as one of prayer and mourning--prayer for the rescue of the oppressed Jewish community in Syria and mourning for the four women who were murdered while trying to flee Syria in 1974.

The Sebbagh sisters--Laura, 28; Mazal, 26; Farah, 20--and their 18-year-old cousin, Eva Saad, were caught at the border, raped and murdered by Syrian authorities, who then stuffed the women's disfigured bodies in trash bags and dropped them off at their parents' doorsteps.

This was a warning to Jews everywhere not to repeat such attempts to escape. The message had been broadcast loud and clear.

This signal of sinister hatred has reached outraged groups and individuals around the world. The Sebbagh and Saad murders have become a symbol of the struggle to free Syrian Jews. The blood of those innocent women, shed 18 years ago, was not spilled in vain.

Most of the Jews left in Syria live in Damascus and about 500 others live in Aleppo and Kamishli. The community confined to the Syrian capital resides in a ghetto, called Harate Al-Yehud ("the Jewish Quarter"), and is subject to 24-hour-a-day surveillance by the Mukhabarat, the Syrian secret police.

For the Jews living in Damascus, there's one secret police officer for every 20 Jews. And Assad is worried that Jews might be able to escape?

The Mukhabarat keeps individual files on all Syrian Jews. It taps Jews' phones, reads their mail, monitors their contracts with foreigners, restricts the sale of their property and prohibits the teaching and speaking of the Hebrew language.

But worse of all is Syria's ban on Jewish emigration. Syria is the only Arab nation that, since 1949, has denied its Jewish citizens the right to leave. No Jew is allowed to leave the country for good.

To travel abroad, he or she must first go through a lengthy procedure, including a government interview, and then post a substantial bond--between $5000 and $10,000--and leave at least one family member behind. This ransom requirement applies to the Jewish community--not to any other minority group.