Even at a Time of War, I Was the Happiest I've Ever Been on Birthright Israel

Growing up in Montgomery County, Maryland, my strongest Jewish memories were forged at Perlman Camp in the Poconos. Every summer, Shabbat became the highlight of my week, Israeli dancing and singing Hebrew prayers with my closest friends as the sun set over the lake. It was there that my Jewish identity felt most alive and authentic.

At UNC Chapel Hill, I chose Hebrew as my language requirement, hoping to deepen my connection to Jewish life on campus. During my freshman year, a shooting occurred on campus while I was in Hebrew class. That experience brought us closer together in ways I never expected. We continued learning together for three semesters, bound by that shared experience and the unspoken connection that comes from being part of an ancient people with a shared story.

After October 7th, everything changed. I learned that my friend Ron Shemer—a fellow counselor from Perlman Camp—had been killed at the Nova festival. Rather than fleeing to safety, he stayed behind to help his injured friends. He died a hero. The grief was overwhelming. Living in a non-Jewish sorority house, I watched my sorority sisters attend anti-Israel campus protests, and I realized I was surrounded by people who fundamentally didn't understand or support who I was. The isolation was painful.

That's when I found my way to Chabad and joined Sinai Scholars, a women's learning group. There, I discovered a community that truly had my back.

Initially, I hesitated about joining Birthright Israel. With the war raging, I wondered if it was the right time. But my friends who had already gone were adamant: "It was the best time, go; you're going to be fine." My Israeli friends kept asking, "Why aren't you coming? You need to come!” Their encouragement gave me the courage to sign up for both the 10-day trip and Onward, where I planned to volunteer at Ichilov Hospital in patient transportation. I was ready to live my best Israeli summer.

Before departing, I packed a Jewish star necklace my rebbetzin had given me, one I'd never worn. After October 7th, I'd been too afraid to wear anything overtly Jewish in public. But I brought it to Israel, and once I put it on there, I never took it off.

The first days of our trip were extraordinary. Our intimate group of 20 became family almost instantly. Our tour guide, Sagi, was remarkable, passionate and gifted at weaving ancient history into contemporary relevance. He made every site feel personal and meaningful.

Masada particularly moved me. Standing atop that ancient fortress, I felt the weight of our people's resilience across millennia. Despite centuries of persecution, we're still here. The strength of what our ancestors built, how they lived and survived, was profound.

But seeing resilience firsthand is different from hearing about it. Sagi took us to his family's kibbutz near Sderot, where his parents welcomed us with homemade jachnun. Despite everything they'd endured, they told us they loved their home and would never leave. They grow flowers there, creating beauty in the face of adversity. If they could thrive in those conditions and still love their life, I realized I could certainly wear my Star of David on campus.

We also visited Rockets to Roses, where an incredible artist transforms missiles from Gaza, Lebanon, and Yemen into art—necklaces, sculptures, everyday objects of beauty. He literally turns instruments of destruction into symbols of hope. It was breathtaking.

About a week into our trip, after an evening at Jerusalem's Mahane Yehuda Market, sirens woke us at 3 AM. Our Israeli soldiers calmly explained that Israel had struck Iran and the sirens were precautionary. Their composure helped us stay calm.

We made the most of an extraordinary situation. In the bomb shelter, we built a fort with sheets while one of our group members, a ballroom dancer, taught us salsa moves. During Shabbat, someone brought an Israeli flag, and we sang and danced to “Am Yisrael Chai” together. It sounds surreal, but it was actually joyful. I'll never forget that moment of unity.

When we received word about evacuation to Cyprus via cruise ship, we had 30 minutes to decide. Part of me wanted to stay, but I knew it was the right choice. I was deeply grateful to the Birthright Israel staff who worked tirelessly to ensure our safety.

The cruise was extraordinary, hundreds of young American Jews, all sharing the same energy, the same love for Israel, in one place. I thought, "This is incredible. I've never been around so many people who love Israel this deeply." The power of that collective passion was overwhelming.

I miss everything about Israel: the food, the people, the indescribable feeling of being home. Israelis genuinely seem happier. In America, there's always something to fear or complain about. In Israel, even with missiles overhead, people carry on with remarkable resilience. When I was with my cousin in Tel Aviv and a missile alert sounded, her roommate working at HaTaco in the Shuk shouted, "Free shots for whoever stays!" It's simultaneously wild and deeply, authentically Israeli.

Though my trip was cut short, I'm already planning my return. I want to complete what I started, to finish my Birthright Israel trip, do Onward, Volunteer, and to contribute meaningfully to the Israeli society.

This experience transformed me in ways I'm still discovering. After October 7th, I began leaning more into my Jewish identity, but Birthright Israel amplified everything. This trip made me feel my Judaism more deeply and inspired me to take on leadership roles in the Jewish community.

I'm pre-med with a passion for functional medicine and wellness. I believe deeply that physical health and spiritual well-being are interconnected, that caring for our bodies is a form of Jewish obligation, a way of honoring the gift of life we've been given. As I prepare to become a doctor, I know my Jewish identity will be integral to how I practice medicine and lead in my field. I want to help people achieve holistic wellness while living authentically Jewish lives.

The generosity of Birthright Israel donors changed my life. I've already donated my deposit back, but someday, I want to help bring more young people to Israel. That’s my goal, to pay forward this transformative gift.

If someone asked me why they should support Birthright Israel, I'd tell them this: the most effective way to change the world is by changing one life at a time. The way to do that is by helping young people experience Israel. Especially now, as Jews face rising discrimination on campuses and in daily life, Birthright Israel is doing something essential for American Jewish continuity.

You're not just funding a trip, you're strengthening Jewish identity, building bridges between American Jews and Israel, and creating the next generation of Jewish leaders. You're investing in young people who will return home as passionate advocates for Israel and committed members of the Jewish community.

That's how you change lives, one person at a time. That's how you secure the future of the Jewish people.