Birthright Israel: The Feeling You Can't Get Anywhere Else

I grew up in Plainview, Long Island, in a Conservative household. My grandfather was a Holocaust survivor, so Jewish identity was very important in my family. We were all raised very Zionist. 

Israel was always this mystical place in my head. My mom had been there; my dad hadn't. I was dying to go because I'd heard so much about it. I remember being eight years old and hearing that my brother — ten years older than me — was going on Birthright Israel. My mom told me: "You'll go one day, just wait ten years." I remember sitting at home with her, looking at his photos on Facebook, thinking I couldn't believe it was real. Ever since then, I knew it was a trip I was going to take one day. 

I decided to go after my sophomore year at Binghamton — right in between my studies. But the real reason was Rabbi Ohana at the local Chabad. He and his wife were staffing the trip, and I wanted to go with them because I knew they would make it especially meaningful. 

Rabbi Ohana added a lot of biblical stories and perspective. I remember being at the Kotel on Friday night before Shabbat. We were all singing and dancing — it was magical and moving. It made me remember why Jews are such a special people, that we can connect like that. 

Standing there, I thought about how my ancestors had been at that wall in the distant past, and then for a long time, they weren't. My family in Poland, in the diaspora, would have loved to feel the connection I felt in that moment. I felt grateful to be alive at a time when Israel is a sovereign state — and it made me realize that we have a responsibility to stand up for it, to appreciate it, to be truly grateful. Not everyone's had that privilege. 

One activity that really stayed with me happened on Shabbat. They laid out about 40 cards with Jewish values, and everyone had to pick the five most important to them. It was eye-opening to see how differently we answered. I chose remembering the Holocaust, supporting Israel, marrying Jewish and having Jewish children. Others chose observing Shabbat. Some didn't. It showed how diverse we are — but how we share so many core values. That discrepancy doesn't divide us. It's just everyone's unique insight into what being Jewish means to them. 

My favorite part was the Mifgash — meeting the Israeli soldiers. There was one I became close with, Linor. We roomed together and stayed in touch after the trip. The Mifgash turns everything on its head, in a good way. It's probably the most meaningful way for Americans to truly see what Israeli life is like — and to realize that although these young people are in a totally different position, they're still just like us. They're our age. They're fighting for their country over there, and we have to do our part to fight for them over here. 

I loved the experience so much that I signed up for Birthright Israel Onward the following summer, interning in Tel Aviv for a nonprofit helping new olim — individuals who recently made Aliyah — connect to community. After two months, I wanted to return again and again — and I thought the best way would be staffing Birthright trips, so I could share what I loved about Israel through fresh eyes. 

I've now staffed five trips, and each time I learn something new. On one trip, some of the participants were Bukharian Jews, and I learned so much about their culture. Sometimes participants are more religious than me, and I come home wanting to try a ritual they taught me. I never know what I'm going to come back with. That's the exciting part. 

My first staffing trip was about six months after October 7. I wasn't scared to go — my family jokes that I'm not allowed to take an Uber alone, but I'm allowed to go to Israel after a war. I have a lot of faith in the Israeli people and the army, and I know Birthright Israel doesn't run if things aren't safe. Before October 7, there was a sense of security — many people didn't fully understand why Israel was so important; they just knew it was a cool place to go. Now, everyone knows. And that makes the trip more important than ever. 

The hardest moment I've had staffing was at Hostage Square on that first trip. None of the hostages had come back yet. Their families were there. Everyone on my trip was crying. We spoke to those families and everyone struggled — but still comforted each other, leaning on one another. It was a very raw experience, and it was important that we all went through it together. 

Two days after October 7, there were anti-Israel rallies on my campus. I was getting my master's in social work, and many students in that program were very anti-Israel. One day, a girl went on a huge antisemitic tirade in class. I spoke up, and she yelled at me to be quiet while the professor did nothing. When I went to the professor afterward, she looked me in the face and said, "What are you going to do when you get a job and someone's antisemitic? You're just going to have to deal with it." I filed a complaint, but the school offered no support. 

That's why we need Birthright Israel. On one of my trips, a boy was planning to join the U.S. Army. At the start, he didn't even want to be in photos — he was scared to be associated with Israel. By the end, he told me he was going to enlist in the IDF. Several alumni from my trips have since joined the IDF and made Aliyah. 

I'm so grateful to the donors who support Birthright Israel. They represent the best of us as a people. Tzedakah is one of our core principles — and the results are real. Everyone deserves to see Israel at least once in their life. That wouldn't happen without the donors. 

To truly understand Israel, you have to go and be in it. You can hear about it. You can learn about it. But you can't feel it until you're there. That's what Birthright Israel gives people — not just understanding, but the feeling. And once you feel it, you spend the rest of your life trying to feel that way again.