Her name is Noa Argamani.

You probably saw her on the news. Being carted away on the back of a motorcycle. A captive of Hamas.

One of the 243 hostages.
But the one with an extraordinary connection to me.

I, like you, was shocked when I first heard the news of the October 7 massacre. I knew immediately that this was not like other the conflicts. Before it was even declared, I knew this was war.

My heart broke for the victims, not then counted, but now numbering 1,400 plus. I endlessly scrolled through my Facebook feed, searching my friends, who were in Israel, for updates. Despite the rockets, (or was it because of them) I longed to be with my Bridges family in Jerusalem. What could I do from here? My only prayers were my tears.

I felt lost. Helpless. Then, at 4am one morning when I couldn’t sleep, I joined a Zoom prayer meeting run by a Jewish friend back in Israel. I was able to share a message of support on behalf of you: on behalf of Bridges for Peace and Christians all over Australia. Then I became a Tehillim Warrior.

Let me explain.

A few years ago, my friend, Orly, created an app called Abraham’s Legacy. It is a global Psalms (Tehellim) reading app, where people all across the world read the Psalms together, and form ‘prayer circles’ (even with complete strangers) to pray for loved ones.

When the war broke out, the Tehillim Warriors  were formed. Christians, Jews — anyone who stood with Israel — could sign up to read the Psalms as a prayer for Israel. Just five minutes a day — the same five minutes, every day. (And if you couldn’t do it that day, you got someone else to take your post: like a good soldier does.) The idea was to get enough people praying that someone, somewhere, was reading the Psalms every moment of the day.

So I chose my five minutes, and then a hostage name was assigned to me. Her name was Noa Bat Liora. (Noa, daughter of Liora.)

Noa Argamani.

After a few days of reading and praying for a name without a face, I decided to Google her. I wanted to know what she looked like. I was shocked to know her face was no stranger to me. Then, I lost my breath when I discovered we share a birthday. Out of all the timeslots I could have chosen. Out of all the names I could have been given. At random? Yes. But, this was no coincidence. This was surely God.

But He wasn’t done yet.

A week later, my mum, dad and I attended a Israel rally. I knew there would be posters. One for each of the 243 hostages. I wondered… 

When we got there, people were already holding posters. Dad knelt down to the box and handed me the one on top.

It was Noa.

Noa, I pray for you and your family.
I pray for your safe return.
I pray that, one day, we will meet.
B’ezrat HaShem. (With the help of God.) 

In truth and deed,

Jo Sarah x