Ariella Noveck and Bethany Mandel
Before Oct. 7, 2023, Israel was deeply divided. Streets filled with protests, families were fractured over politics, and the sense of shared destiny, the glue that once bound the Jewish people, felt as if it were slipping away.
In the Diaspora, many Jews had grown distant from Israel’s story. The Jewish state became “someone else’s issue,” not the heartbeat of Jewish continuity. Too many assumed that Jewish safety was permanent. We forgot that indifference, too, can be dangerous. History teaches that when Jews disconnect from their people and homeland, hatred always finds its way back.
Oct. 7 shattered that illusion. That day reminded us why Israel exists, and why Jewish unity can never be optional. Hamas’ atrocities were not only an attack on Israeli civilians; they were an assault on Jews everywhere. What followed was two years of unbearable grief, but also something else: a reawakening of Jewish pride, faith and peoplehood.
One of the most powerful sources of that spiritual renewal came from the hostages themselves. Those who endured the tunnels of Gaza spoke of a surprising truth: When everything else was stolen from them, many instinctively reached for God, memory, and their Jewish faith.
Among the hostages, quiet acts of belief became declarations of resistance. Keith Siegel whispered the Shema each day — something he hadn’t done in years — “just connecting with God,” he later said.
Agam Berger imagined Shabbat candles in her mind each Friday night, clinging to ritual when she had nothing tangible left. “I was kidnapped because I’m Jewish,” she said. “You can’t take away my Judaism.”
Liri Albag asked her captors for Chanukah candles, refusing to let darkness define her. After her release, she vowed to return to the IDF: “They couldn’t take away my light.”
And Matan Angrest demanded tefillin and a prayer book — and miraculously received them. “Prayer,” he said, “was my oxygen.”
When they were finally reunited with their families, their homecomings became spiritual moments. Men who hadn’t wrapped tefillin in decades did so on their first morning of freedom. Families recited Shehecheyanu, thanking God for life itself. As the Times of Israel reported, Shabbat tables that had gone cold were suddenly “miracles that redefined faith.”
This rediscovery of faith wasn’t only happening in tunnels. It was happening in living rooms, synagogues, college campuses and Jewish communities worldwide. Jews who had never thought of themselves as religious began lighting candles.
Secular Israelis packed Torah classes. Diaspora Jews put mezuzahs on doors and Magen Davids back around their necks. The global campaign “Like a Jew” captured this moment: an insistence that Jewishness is not something to hide or apologize for — it is something to live, visibly and proudly.
As the Jewish world rallied to pray, protest, and advocate, we felt called to help in the space we know best: amplifying the voices of the families in media. In the earliest hours of Oct. 7, as phones rang with pleas for help, one hostage’s relative asked if there was a way to speak to the world. That moment became the beginning of ShieldGiving’s work connecting families to journalists and platforms that could elevate their stories.
Over the past two years, we have been deeply invested in telling the stories of these brave men, women, and children — and of the families who prayed for them.
Many of these families are no longer just people we’ve met; they have become like family to us. We share a bond born of heartbreak, hope, and truth — a connection not only through tragedy, but through the belief that by telling their stories, we preserve their strength, faith, and light.
When the remaining living hostages were released, we felt the depth of what words like faith and unity truly mean. Ariella spent hours at Hostages Square in Tel Aviv in the days leading up to the first release of 20 living hostages. You could feel the energy shift; the mix of fear, anticipation, and fragile hope.
The air was thick with emotion; people stood shoulder to shoulder, strangers holding hands, their eyes fixed on the screens. There was excitement but also fear. Even in that uncertainty, especially in that uncertainty, there was unity. Every heartbeat in that square pulsed together as one.
On Oct. 7, as the horror unfolded, Ariella found herself on the phone with a man whose wife and children had just been taken into Gaza. We spoke for nearly an hour. At first, we didn’t think there was much we could offer — just a listening ear.
Then he said, “Aren’t you involved in the media? Can I do something there?” He was right, and mere moments later, he appeared on a major network, sharing his family’s story.
We added the line, “Photo credit: via Ariella Noveck,” so that if another family member saw it, they would know how to reach us. We wanted every family to know they had someone ready to help them speak to the world as the unthinkable unfolded.
In the months that followed, we witnessed what public awareness could do — not only to awaken global conscience, but to send strength back into the darkness. Freed hostage Guy Gilboa-Dalal later said he drew hope from watching his older brother, Gal, advocate for him on television. When hostages knew their names were being spoken, they understood they were not forgotten.
Media, in that sense, became more than messaging. It became a connection. It became faith in action.
The lesson of this year is clear: Jewish survival is not only political or military; it is spiritual. Our enemies seek to erase us. Our response must be to live louder, love harder and believe deeper. Light the candles. Say the Shema. Teach your children that Judaism is not a burden, but a blessing. Support Israel with your presence, your prayers, and your voice. Debate passionately, disagree honestly, but never disconnect.
The hostages found faith in the shadows. We must find it now in the light. If Oct. 7 exposed our vulnerability, let it also reveal our strength: that when the Jewish people stand together, our spirit is unbreakable — and no darkness can overcome us.
Ariella Noveck, a journalist, is co-founder of BottomLine Media and Shield Communications PR, and co-founder of ShieldGiving, a nonprofit initiative supporting families of hostages and promoting accurate media representation of Israel and the Middle East. Bethany Mandel is the co-founder of ShieldGiving.
