Sapir Cohen’s Search for Meaning in the Gaza Tunnels

On October 7, 2023, Sapir Cohen’s life was ripped apart in a matter of seconds. A 28-year-old woman from Ramat Gan, Israel, she was taken hostage by Hamas and spent 55 agonizing days in the heart of Gaza’s tunnels, enduring unimaginable physical and emotional torment. Yet, against all odds, Sapir found something far more powerful than survival: purpose.

In the weeks leading up to her kidnapping, Sapir had experienced an eerie, unshakeable sense of unease. It wasn’t connected to any specific event or threat, but rather a deep, unexplainable feeling that something was wrong. Despite having no concrete reason to worry, the unease gnawed at her. She sought answers from doctors, but tests came back clear.

The fear lingered, so Sapir turned inward. She began reciting Psalm 27 every day, hoping for comfort and guidance.

The psalm resonated with her in ways she couldn’t fully explain. One verse, in particular, stood out: “The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?” (Psalm 27:1). Each day, she recited these words, finding peace and strength in their timeless promise, even though she didn’t know why she was drawn to this particular chapter. It felt as though the psalm was preparing her for something she could not yet comprehend.

Then, October 7th arrived.

The Nightmare Begins

Sapir and her boyfriend, Sasha Troponov, had spent the weekend at Kibbutz Nir Oz, a peaceful community near the Nova Festival. At dawn, the alarms began blaring, followed by the deafening sound of rockets overhead.

Before they could fully grasp what was happening, Hamas terrorists stormed the kibbutz, breaking into homes, killing families, and taking hostages. Sapir and Sasha were among them.

Sapir was grabbed by her captors, thrown onto the back of a motorcycle, and driven at breakneck speed toward Gaza. The world she had known disappeared as she crossed the border where an angry mob awaited her. They screamed, spat, and struck her with their fists.

Sapir Cohen and Sasha Troponov. Sasha remains captive in Gaza

Bruised, terrified and trapped, Sapir did the only thing she could. She clung to the words of Psalm 27 — the psalm she had been reciting daily for weeks. The words that had seemed distant before now offered her the only sense of stability she could hold onto. They now made sense to her. The premonition, which she initially thought was about an illness, was this unfolding nightmare. Suddenly its words came into clear focus; even the actual word ‘Hamas’ is mentioned in the psalm.

A Choice in the Darkness

For 55 days, Sapir was shuffled between various locations — damp tunnels, makeshift shelters, and crumbling buildings deep within Gaza. She wasn’t alone. She shared her captivity with dozens of other hostages, each trapped in their own private nightmares. Some of them gave up hope entirely, while others withdrew into despair.

Sapir realized that while she had no control over her physical surroundings, she could control how she responded to them. In choosing to face each moment with resilience and strength, she became a light in the darkness—not just for herself, but for those around her.

One of her fellow hostages was an older man, paralyzed from the waist down. He had lost hope, convinced that he would never make it out alive. But Sapir, with quiet conviction, looked him in the eye and told him, “Yes, you will. You have to.” Her words sparked something in him, a glimmer of hope that had long since faded.

Another hostage, a young girl, was terrified as they were moved deeper into the tunnels. “I don’t want to go in there,” she whispered, panic rising in her voice. Despite the fear that gripped her own heart, Sapir smiled and said, “Of course you do! This is the number one attraction in Gaza!”

The absurdity of the comment was enough to break through the girl’s panic. She let out a nervous laugh and for a brief moment, the tension of their surroundings lifted. “Sapir, you’re crazy,” the girl said.

Sapir grinned. “Maybe. But maybe you want to be crazy like me.”

And then, with a quiet voice, she added the verse from Psalm 27: “And now shall my head be lifted up above mine enemies round about me: therefore will I offer …sacrifices of joy; I will sing praises unto the Lord.”

That moment of shared laughter in the midst of unspeakable horror became a defining moment for Sapir. It was then she realized that even in the darkest of places, she could still choose to bring light. “I felt that all my life, I hadn’t done something truly meaningful,” she later reflected. “And then I realized—even in captivity, I could be the most meaningful person in that room. I just had to choose it.”

So she did.

Every day, she repeated Psalm 27, which she now knew by heart, over and over, drawing strength from its words:

“Hear, O Lord, when I cry with my voice: have mercy also upon me, and answer me. When You said, ‘Seek my face’; my heart said unto You, ‘Your face, Lord, will I seek’” (Psalm 27:7-8).

“When the wicked… my enemies and my foes, came upon me to eat up my flesh, they stumbled and fell…though an army encamp against me, my heart shall not fear; though war should rise against me, in this will I be confident” (Psalm 27:2-3).

These words provided her with strength, reminding her that even surrounded by enemies, she could stand firm in faith.

The psalm became more than just words. It became her shield and her anchor, a constant reminder that even in the depths of despair, she was not alone.

The Power of Meaning

After 55 days of captivity, Sapir was freed and the person who emerged from the tunnels was not the same woman who had been taken. Her journey through those dark days had transformed her. While the physical scars of her captivity might eventually fade, the spiritual strength she had cultivated remained.

Sapir had learned firsthand the truth of Viktor Frankl’s words: “When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.” Instead of being broken by her ordeal, she emerged stronger, with a renewed sense of purpose and clarity.

Since her release, Sapir has dedicated herself to sharing her story with the world, using her experience to inspire others. She teaches us that even in life’s darkest tunnels, we have a choice. We can choose to wait for things to get better, or we can bring light into the darkness ourselves. We can allow ourselves to be victims of our circumstances, or we can become leaders within them.

Choosing Hope Over Despair

When asked whether she lies awake at night, replaying the terrifying events of her captivity or worrying about her boyfriend Sasha, who remains in Gaza, her answer is resolute: Sapir focuses on hope. “I envision the day I’ll see him walking into freedom,” she says, her eyes lighting up with determination. “I imagine greeting him, seeing him smile, and finally being able to hold him again. That thought fills me with purpose every single day. It’s what gets me through.”

In choosing to focus on that hopeful reunion, Sapir continues to embody the same resilience that helped her survive the darkest days of her captivity.

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