“Restrain your voice from weeping and your eyes from tears, for your work will be rewarded… your children will return from the land of the enemy.”
Jeremiah 31:16–17
Dear Friends,
This month’s Israel in Focus brings you one of the many untold stories of courage and heartbreak from October 7, one that did not make headlines for long but has left a permanent mark on the heart of a nation. Their horrific terror experience reminds us why our support continues to bless those who have emotional injuries. We believe it is time to restore dignity, hope, and healing across this land, and to stand in prayerful solidarity with the people of Israel.
Omri Miran, 48, is a father, a husband, a therapist, and now, a former hostage. He lived in Kibbutz Nahal Oz with his wife Lishai and their two daughters, Roni and Alma. A few years ago, Omri and Lishai met at a Purim party in Sderot. It was March 2020, days before the world shut down for COVID, and the two formed a fast and deep connection. They married, started a family, and built a life just kilometers from the Gaza border, a life filled with joy and simplicity.
Omri had a small studio where he offered shiatsu therapy and also worked as a construction laborer on the kibbutz. He was a man who used his hands to build, to heal, and to serve his community.
On the morning of October 7, 2023, that quiet life was shattered.
At 10:30 a.m., the window above the shower exploded. Outside, footsteps and shouts in Arabic filled the air. Terrorists had entered the kibbutz. The family held their breath as the chaos crept closer. Then came a voice they knew: “It’s me, Tomer. Please open the door, or they will shoot you and me.” It was 17-year-old Tomer Arava, their neighbor’s son, used by the attackers as a human shield.
Omri and Lishai made a desperate decision. Their daughter, Roni, had fallen asleep just in front of the door. If gunmen opened fire, she would be the first to suffer. Omri opened the door.
Armed terrorists stormed in and forced the family into the living room. Then they were marched to a nearby home belonging to the Idan family. Already grieving the murder of their daughter, Ma’ayan, the Idans now share in the unfolding horror. Roni, just a toddler, was paralyzed with fear. Alma, only six months old, cried with hunger. The gunmen demanded that Lishai breastfeed Alma for a photo. She refused.
At around 1:30 p.m., the scene shifted again. More terrorists arrived, this time with Yehudit and Natalie Ra’anan, a mother and daughter from Chicago who had come to visit. The gunmen bound the hands of Omri and Tzachi. Lishai realized what was about to happen. She wasn’t allowed to approach him, so she did what any wife and mother would do. She spoke words that carried the weight of their love and the hope of survival:
“I love you. I will protect our girls. I am waiting for you… ”
He was taken hostage with great violence by the terrorists.
Roni screamed, “Abba! I want my dad!” She tried to run after him, wild with grief. At just two years old, she understood the terror in the room. By 5:30 p.m., after eleven unbearable hours, IDF soldiers from the Givati Brigade stormed the building and rescued the remaining family members. But Omri had already been taken hostage into Gaza.
For 738 days, Omri was a hostage who was tortured by hamas terror group.
Omri was moved between 23 different locations, held both above ground and in Hamas’ tunnels. Early on, he was shackled. For three weeks, he could not walk freely. At one point, five hostages were crammed into a cage only 1.80 by 1.60 meters. They could not stand upright. They could barely breathe. They were starved. They gave them dirty, salty seawater to drink. Slowly, one by one, the other men were taken, leaving Omri and one other hostage alone.
There were moments when the terrorists left weapons nearby, an invitation to make a desperate move. But Omri knew it would not lead to freedom. It would only make things worse.
To hold on to his sanity, Omri marked each day in his mind. He never wrote it down. He simply counted. He knew exactly how many days had passed.
But the thing that truly kept him going was imagining the simplest things: playing with Roni, holding Alma, hearing their laughter, being near his wife again. He focused on those moments, those blessings, because they reminded him that there was still life to return to.
A message finally reached his family on Yom HaShoah, Israel’s Holocaust Remembrance Day. It was also his birthday. A sign of life. A heartbeat of hope.
Then, on October 13, 2025, Omri Miran was released. He returned to his wife and daughters. The family moved to a semi-temporary home in Kramim—Omri, free and breathing fresh air once more.
One week later, Omri spoke publicly for the first time. He said:
"I returned to Israel, to life, and I discovered that everyone knows me. I don’t know each and every one of you, but I saw you. I got glimpses of the fight you waged for me and the other hostages. I saw you standing in the square, at intersections, all over the country, and for that, people of Israel, a huge thank you. I have no words to describe how much I love you and appreciate you for not giving up on us."
He expressed deep gratitude to the IDF, the security services, and the people of Israel. And then he made a vow: to do everything in his power until the last hostage comes home.
Today, Omri is healing. Roni is now 4 years old. Alma is two. Their family is together again. But they are forever changed.
We share this story not to stir fear, but to stir faith.
Omri’s story represents resilience and hope. Although we cannot undo the darkness of that day, together we can light candles of hope in homes across Israel. We can stand with the brokenhearted. We can proclaim freedom and restoration.
Please continue to pray for every released hostage, every family, and for peace to reign over Israel.
If you feel led, we invite you to partner with us in providing vital aid to those most in need. Give today.
With gratitude,
Barry & Batya
