How Birthright Israel Helped Me Opt In to Judaism

I grew up in the suburbs of Chicago, in Highland Park, which is a very Jewish community—about 50% Jewish. I came from an interfaith household, and my Jewish experience was more cultural than religious. My mom’s whole family, the Jewish side, had come over from Eastern Europe, but they had passed away before I was born. Judaism wasn’t something I consciously thought about; we’d observe a few holidays with family around food and go to the Reform synagogue occasionally, but it wasn’t at the forefront of my mind.

I wasn’t bar mitzvahed because it conflicted with other activities, and honestly, I never really thought about it. My Jewish identity was always just part of the day-to-day flow, something I took for granted.

That started to change when I went to the University of Michigan. For the first time, I was outside the bubble of my Jewish community, and I realized that some of the things I was seeing and experiencing were actually antisemitic. Little comments and moments started to click in my mind. For instance, in my non-Jewish fraternity, someone once said, “Oh, he’s Jewish; let’s put him in charge of the finances.” At the time, I didn’t think twice because I loved finance and was in business school. But looking back, I recognize the undertones.

Later in college, I saw more overt antisemitism—things like, “Let’s go beat those Jewish bastards,” yelled during fraternity sports. It made me uncomfortable, and I started seeking out the campus Jewish community for support. I went to Hillel and attended Shabbat dinners. I vividly remember coming back from a night out and striking up a conversation with a Modern Orthodox guy in my hall—just having a philosophical discussion about values in a Jewish context. I really loved that kind of debate and thoughtfulness.

I began actively opting into Judaism in a way I never had before. I appreciated that Judaism wasn’t dogmatic or too prescriptive. It was like, here are a thousand different ways to be Jewish. I loved the values aspect, and also the community—knowing that there was someplace I could go on Friday nights, where people looked out for me, and where I felt safe and comfortable being myself.

That led me to sign up for a Birthright Israel trip with a few friends, where I also decided to get bar mitzvahed in Israel. When I got to Israel, it was like nothing I had ever experienced. I didn’t know most of the people on my bus, and yet, there was this immediate bond. That’s something I love about the Jewish community: even if you’re from different places and don’t know each other, there’s this shared set of values and culture.

One of the most vivid memories I have is standing at the overlook above the Western Wall for my bar mitzvah. It was a full-circle moment for me—standing there, surrounded by friends old and new, choosing to opt into Judaism. Afterwards, we went down to the Wall, and someone told a Chabadnik there that I had just been bar mitzvahed. Suddenly, a giant hora broke out, with strangers joining in to celebrate. It was one of the most spectacularly wonderful experiences of my life.

The trip wasn’t just about fun, though there was plenty of that. It was also deeply reflective. Visiting Yad Vashem and hearing stories of Holocaust survivors—it hit me in a way I hadn’t felt before, and I couldn’t help but think about my own family who fled Europe and what they might have endured. The trip juxtaposed those contemplative moments with the incredible highs of modern Israel. I remember being on a beach in Tel Aviv with friends, thinking about how those two realities coexist.

When I got back from Israel, it wasn’t like everything in my life changed overnight. I worked in investment banking in New York, and for a while, it felt like I was slipping into the grind of everyday life. But something in me had shifted. I started feeling the absence of purpose and community and realized how much I missed that connection to Judaism that I had experienced in Israel.

That realization set off a chain of events that reshaped my life. I moved to Boston, partly through a connection I made on Birthright Israel. In Boston, I found an incredible Jewish community, became involved in Jewish Federation, and started hosting Shabbat dinners to build the kind of community I so appreciated on Birthright Israel. The trip was the oil on the fire of my Jewish identity. It gave me the tools to consciously embrace being Jewish and to build a life grounded in those values.

Now, I’m deeply involved in the Boston Jewish community. I serve on the board of Jewish Federation, and I’ve worked with Jewish nonprofits to help them grow, navigate challenges, and focus on community-building.

If someone’s on the fence about going on Birthright Israel, I’d say this: You have no idea how it might impact your life 10 years from now. For me, it changed everything. I wouldn’t be in Boston if I hadn’t gone on Birthright Israel, I wouldn’t have gotten the jobs I wanted, and I wouldn’t have found this amazing community. I would’ve just been, like so many Jews, kind of reluctant, in the background, instead of the deeply engaged community builder and activist I’ve become.

Every time I go back to Israel—and I’ve been there over 10 times now—I visit that spot overlooking the Wall. I’ve brought my dad there, I’ve brought friends, and every time I go, I stand in that spot and feel connected to the generations that came before me. Someday, when I bring my kids to Israel, I’ll take them to that same spot. I genuinely believe that going to Israel for immersive experiences is the greatest thing you can possibly do. This is how we keep our tradition alive, from generation to generation.