By Ayelet Medjuck-Bruckner, Year Course 2025-26

I hadn’t spent most of my time running to bomb shelters until a week ago, but five weeks of war has still changed everything. In February, I was volunteering with Magen David Adom as a certified first responder, riding in the back of ambulances in Tel Aviv, building a routine. When the war started, that stopped. No more shifts. No more normal schedule.

War isn’t just about sirens. It’s about learning how to adjust to a reality that keeps changing.

At the beginning of my gap year in Israel, I remember asking if there was a miklat in the bathroom. I meant miklachat–a shower. Everyone laughed. I didn’t really understand the difference then. Now I do. Now I know exactly where the nearest miklat is wherever I go. 

At around 8:30 in the morning on February 28th, I woke up to the sound of a siren. I had slept through the initial Home Front Command warning. Now our instructions were stark: “Enter the protected space. Time: one and a half minutes.”

“Is this real?” I asked my roommate.

We grabbed whatever we could and ran. Phone, water bottle, book. Our counselor was yelling, “This is serious– go, go!”

We squeezed into the shelter, everyone still in pajamas. I was fully awake. It felt like being slapped in the face and then forced to sprint.

Later, we were told to pack. Twenty minutes. One suitcase. “One week.”

I knew it wouldn’t be one week.

As I rolled my suitcase towards the chartered bus, people were sitting at cafes, walking their dogs, and talking with friends. It felt surreal. Almost like a joke–a group of American teenagers rushing through the streets of Tel Aviv with suitcases, while life around us looked completely normal. At first, I didn’t understand them. But after weeks of war I now see things differently. It’s the resilience that I’ve heard so much about and now I’m seeing it first-hand.

We were evacuated to Kibbutz Ketura near Eilat, a kibbutz that was founded decades ago by passionate members of our very own movement, Young Judaea. Not completely without sirens but far enough from the barrage. Far enough from our dorm near the Kiryah (IDF Headquarters) in Tel Aviv where nearby streets were blown up by a ballistic missile in the earliest days of the war. 

In Ketura we were safe and the people there welcomed us with open arms, plates of cookies, and sweet sticky dates. We unpacked, unsure how long we would stay. Days filled with random activities, meals together, volunteering in the kitchen, engaging with people in the special needs program, and filling sandbags for security. We were trying to create some kind of structure for our time there and also be useful. Life didn’t stop–it just looked different.

And somehow, a lot of it was funny. Not actually funny. But we laughed. We laughed when a friend ran to the safe room in a towel from the shower. We laughed at how absurd everything felt. Sometimes it was real laughter, and sometimes it felt like the only possible response. Laughter was the perfect release, helping us cope and make things feel normal.

We adapted quickly. Six people in a room because that’s what was available. Sharing clothes, especially for Shabbat. I lent out skirts and dresses to girls who hadn’t packed enough. We sat together when we were sad. We cried together. We hugged each other in silence. We celebrated when our friend committed to her college for next year and for birthdays we bought cakes and balloons from the kibbutz makolet (store). At night, we sat around bonfires, listening to music, talking, laughing. For a few hours, it could feel like nothing else existed. We forced each other to get out of bed, to go on walks, to move, to keep going. It wasn’t just about passing time. It was about taking care of each other.

Through everything, life kept happening in strange ways. I was in the gym in Eilat when a siren went off so I ran into a bomb shelter with a group of sweaty strangers. A few minutes later, I was having a conversation with a random girl who gave me her nail technician’s phone number. 

Life just… continued. 

On the kibbutz, I found meaningful ways to grow. I prayed every day. I led Kabbalat Shabbat for the entire kibbutz community. I leyned Torah for the first time since my Bat Mitzvah. And then I even leyned again the next week. It has felt incredible to step up in these ways and connect with my Judaism more deeply during this time. 

I met people I never would have met otherwise. I practiced fire spinning with someone on the kibbutz who lent me his spinning staff. I spent Shabbat afternoons talking with new people who quickly felt familiar. Several other overseas programs also spent time in Ketura during these weeks, so we all played a lot of Jewish geography and on Purim we came together to read and hear megillah.

In the middle of all of this, my grandfather passed away in New York–and it was impossible for me to fly home for his funeral. I had known this moment was coming, but hearing about it so far from home felt unreal. Everything stopped. My friends sat with me, hugged me, and didn’t try to fix anything. This togetherness got me through.

After that first week on the kibbutz, I realized I had to be proactive. It would have been easy to shut down, to feel stuck in the uncertainty of war. But I needed to take care of myself– physically, emotionally, mentally. Art helped with that. I painted for hours, sitting quietly with the mountains and trees. It gave me space to think, to process, to reconnect. I committed to spending more time moving my body and running loops of the perimeter of the kibbutz.

Now I’m thinking a lot about what my next few weeks will look like. We left Ketura and returned to Tel Aviv, despite the ongoing war. Now I am in the cycle of frequent sirens and shelters. Some of us dispersed to family and friends throughout Israel for Pesach, some of my friends figured out ways to go abroad to visit but hope to return to Israel as soon as possible. I almost didn’t get to Jerusalem for Seder when I was delayed by four sirens in two hours and a cancelled train. Throughout the country, Seder night was disrupted by countless sirens. Everyone is navigating uncertainty in real time.

I really hope my Magen David Adom internship starts up again soon. Most of all, I am eternally grateful for the tireless efforts of all Year Course staff. They have worked incredibly hard to keep us feeling safe and engaged with programming, obviously all year long but especially now – even as they juggle the complexities and challenges of war with their own families. All of their backup plans have backup plans, and that has really mattered lately.

This experience is exposing me to a reality I hadn’t fully understood before:

People who can’t just leave.

Families adjusting overnight, night after night.

Showers and sleep frequently interrupted by sirens.

Peers serving in the IDF.

People called up to the reserves. 

Lives put on hold–or completely changed. 

I came to Israel as someone choosing to be here for one year. That choice feels different now.

What is staying with me throughout this war isn’t the fear, or even the uncertainty.  It’s the way people show up for each other. 

The way friends become family.

The way strangers become familiar.

The way life continues, even while we are still figuring out how to make it all make sense.

The way public space and personal space are jumbled together. Because in Israel, especially in moments like this, being together isn’t optional.

It’s everything.

 HINEH MAH TOV UMA NAYIM– HOW BEAUTIFUL IT IS WHEN WE SIT TOGETHER!

Written by several members of the 1964 YC shicva.

60 years(!) ago, 52 Young Judaeans left New York via 2 passenger liners — first to La Havre, France, and then from Marseille to Haifa. We arrived in Israel on October 7, 1964 and were the last Year Course to travel to Israel by boat.

On September 26-29, 2024,17 (33%) of us (and a few spouses) gathered in San Francisco for our 60th Reunion. Given our average age of 78 (40% are no longer living or have not been found), being together was extraordinary.  It wasn’t just because we came from both coasts, Israel and Italy, but much more because of the loving memories we had of the outstanding year we had spent together, the many friendships we formed then that have lasted a lifetime, and the lives that were changed because of our Year Course experience.

On Thursday evening, we began our reunion in a private room in the oldest Italian restaurant in San Francisco (located in the Hotel San Remo, which is ironically the namesake of our Jerusalem dormitory). The emotional hugs and joy we shared were tearful and moving.  Some of us hadn’t seen or been in contact with one another for 60 years.

On Friday, we ferried back and forth to Sausalito, reminiscing over the boat rides we had taken to Israel. Shabbat dinner was hosted by one of our chevra at a nearby home, and we made every moment we had together count.

On Saturday, we toured the Contemporary Jewish Museum, visited the Yerba Buena Gardens and Martin Luther King Memorial Fountains, and spent quality time renewing our friendships and sharing our individual histories.  That night, we had a catered dinner aboard the spectacularly renovated Historic Klamath “ferry” (permanently docked, adjacent to the SF Ferry Building). 

We viewed a kaleidoscope of photos and videos from over the years (on multiple screens), sang our favorite Year Course songs, and expressed our personal thoughts about the significant impact that Year Course made on our lives. We were welcomed by a video from YJ CEO Adina Frydman, and two of our chevra (YJ Board members) updated us on the activities and successes of Year Course and other YJ Israel-related programs.

When we said Shalom on Sunday morning, our hearts were full of love and appreciation for our Year Course and for each other. We are already planning the next reunion!  Forward, Together….

By David Weinstein, Executive Director, Camp Tel Yehudah

Some stories don’t just remind you of home. They are made there. The Floaters is one of those.

The Floaters is a very Jewish movie about Jewish summer camp. It is about kids who don’t always fit, about friendships that form quickly and deeply, and about what happens when a community really tries to make room for everyone. If you have ever spent a summer at Jewish camp, the world of this film will feel immediately familiar. As producer and Young Judaea alum Shai Korman shared, the goal was to tell “a story centered on Jewish women leaders that took place in an authentically Jewish world,” inspired by the many women who shaped their lives at camp.

What makes this especially meaningful for us is that The Floaters was filmed almost entirely at Camp Tel Yehudah. After camp ended in 2023, the cast and crew moved in and lived at TY for nearly a month while they made the movie. They transformed Tel Yehudah into “Camp Daveed,” but anyone who knows our camp will recognize it instantly. There are scenes in the Beit Ha’am, scenes in the kitchens, and moments across campus that are unmistakably Yehudah.

You will also spot some familiar faces. Stu Stein and Noah Wilker both make appearances. And yes, our very recognizable rikud made it into the film as well. As Shai Korman explained, the rikud scene was especially important to capture: a moment inspired by “the magic of Saturday night at camp where everyone—no matter who you are and where you come from—comes together after Shabbat to dance and have fun.”

The film was produced by Shai, Becky, and Lily Korman, TY and Young Judaea alumni whose connection to Tel Yehudah runs deep. Their parents met at TY. They grew up in the Young Judaea world. And now the next generation is continuing that story, with their kids heading off to Sprout Lake and Tel Yehudah. Bringing the project back to Tel Yehudah felt like a true homecoming. As Shai shared, “The best part about being back at TY was recreating the joy and camaraderie of camp with our incredible cast and crew… we all walked away with a bond and memories that will last a lifetime.”

That sense of belonging is at the heart of both Young Judaea and the film itself. Much like Tel Yehudah, the world of Camp Daveed brings together kids from all over the country—with different backgrounds, ways of thinking, and ways of being Jewish—to find community. As Shai put it, “Pluralism and fun” were central to the film, reflecting a place where kids can take a break from everyday pressures and experience genuine, sometimes wacky, joy with their friends.

“Watching The Floaters felt like coming home,” said David Weinstein. “It gets Jewish camp. The warmth, the awkwardness, the intensity, and that insistence that everyone belongs, even when it’s complicated.”

The cast is terrific and a big part of why the film works, including Jackie Tohn from Nobody Wants This, Sarah Podemski, Seth Green, and Steve Guttenberg.

Since its release, The Floaters has been playing at film festivals around the country and continues to do so. It has picked up awards and a lot of well-deserved attention along the way.

We encourage Judaeans of all ages to seek it out and watch it. Alumni, parents, current campers, and friends of the movement will all find something familiar here. If you know Tel Yehudah, you will see it on the screen. And even if you don’t, it will still feel familiar in that very Jewish camp way. It feels like summer. It feels like community. It feels like home.

More information and upcoming showings can be found at: https://floatersmovie.com/

Recently, YJ National Mazkira Natalie Pittman was a panelist in a screening of the award-winning documentary 999: The Forgotten Girls in NYC. Her mother and YJ alum, Vivian Genn-Pittman, wrote the words below.

I am so grateful to have had the opportunity to work with author and producer Heather Dune Macadam and team to help organize a powerful event; a film screening of the award-winning documentary 999: The Forgotten Girls, in NYC earlier this week on International Holocaust Remembrance Day. 

The film tells the gripping, little-known stories of 999 young Jewish women, mostly teenagers, deported from Slovakia on the first Jewish transport to Auschwitz in March 1942, after being misled into believing they were reporting for volunteer work. 

We were able to fill close to 999 seats in the theater, one for each girl, and had an estimated four thousand viewers on livestream.

A panel discussion with film producer, teen leaders and descendants of Holocaust survivors, including Natalie as a leader and granddaughter of a hidden child survivor/ my mom Myra Genn, (who was also honored as one of only two Holocaust survivors in the audience) followed the film. 

There was not a dry eye. 

Focus was on bearing witness, resilience, kindness, education, and a promise to carry facts and lessons forward to better humanity. 

I am heartbroken and inspired by the stories, proud beyond words of Natalie, and grateful for my mom’s recognition, resilience and continued light and love. 

A trailer of the film can be viewed here.

The introduction and discussion with Natalie following the film can be viewed here. (See Natalie speak at 18:32)

YJ Teens National Convention was such a fun and meaningful experience. First and foremost, I loved getting to see my friends, but the weekend was about so much more than that. The programming was engaging, and from a leadership perspective it was amazing to see how involved and invested everyone was in the conversations.

One of the biggest highlights of the weekend was the speakers. We were honored to have five incredible speakers lead workshops: Sarri Singer, Charlotte Korchak, Hava Tizazu, Kami Salman representing Talk Israel, and Shira Rosen. Each of them brought something unique, whether sharing personal experiences or offering education and guidance around Israel and antisemitism. One takeaway that really stuck with me was Charlotte Korchak’s explanation of antisemitism on the left. It can be incredibly painful to experience, but she emphasized the importance of standing up to it with facts, and that message really resonated with me.

Another moment that will always stay with me was Shira and Havdalah. There is something so special about ending Shabbat and starting the week surrounded by your favorite people and meaningful traditions. Overall, as a leader, it was incredibly rewarding to see how engaged everyone was and how productive the discussions were. National Convention was truly an amazing and educational weekend!

By Ruth Glaser, National ISAP

Last weekend, 130 teens from across the country and around the world came together for YJ Teens National Convention—and from the moment we stepped off the buses, the energy was undeniable. Friends reunited, new connections were formed, and excitement filled the room as we began an unforgettable weekend. Together, we celebrated Shabbat, deepened our Jewish identities, engaged in meaningful discussions about Israeli current events and our national initiative on human trafficking, and learned more about our role in the world. We sang and danced at Shira and Rikkud (one of the best Rikkuds of my YJ journey!), heard from powerful speakers, and elected the next National Mazkirut—leaders I know will bring passion and heart to YJ in the year ahead.

As National Mazkira, watching 130 teens come together in this moment filled me with immense pride.

Planning this weekend alongside the National Mazkirut was a labor of love, and standing in front of that room gave me so much hope for our future. I shared with the teens that there are times when the world feels overwhelming and helpless—but that YJ is how I push back against that feeling.

Through YJ, I’ve become more educated, more connected to my Judaism, stronger in my support for Israel, closer to my community, and more confident as a leader. Seeing these same qualities reflected in so many teens reminded me why this movement matters so much.

One moment that truly stayed with me was hearing from Sarri Singer, who shared her powerful survival story after being severely injured in a terrorist attack in Israel. After her recovery, she founded Strength to Strength, an organization that connects survivors of terrorist attacks around the world. Sarri reminded us that when trauma silences us, the terrorists win—but when we remain proud, open, and loud, they never can. Her message of resilience and strength is one I hope every teen carries with them moving forward.

Thank you to everyone who made National Convention so special—the weekend was incredible because of all of you. I’m excited for what’s ahead this year and can’t wait to see you at future YJ Teens events!

— Natalie Pittman, National Mazkira 2025-26

An interview with Steve Berman, TY 1969, 70 and 1972 YC/Machon 1973-74, TY Madrich 1974, YJ Florida Director 1977-79, TY Head Counselor TY 1979, YJG Board member 2012-2022

How many generations of your family have been involved in Young Judaea?
Three!

How has Young Judaea shaped your family’s connection to Israel and the Jewish community?
Starting in 1969, because of Young Judaea, our family has had a meaningful relationship with Israel with numerous family members living in Israel over the years including now.

Are there any lasting friendships or relationships your family made through YJ?
Some of our closest friendships have been established through YJ. We have had YJ friends by our sides at weddings, funerals, ski trips, milestone birthdays, b’nai mitzvah and beyond. We all feel so lucky to have had the opportunity to forge these meaningful friendships from such a young age. These are friends for life!

Do you have a favorite YJ story, memory, or anecdote from your family’s experience?  
There are too many stories to list here. In the Berman second generation (of three) a Berman daughter from Atlanta married a a wonderful guy who grew up in Texas Young Judaea. The family jokingly calls this “a mixed marriage”!

What inspires your family to stay connected to Young Judaea today?  
Young Judaea is still a relevant forum for American Jewish youth after all these years. Our five camps and our incredible and durable Israel programs offers a unique way to establish lifelong friendship and a lifelong relationship with Israel.

Can you list out which of your families members have participated in Young Judaea?
Steve Berman: TY 1969, 70 and 1972 YC/Machon 1973-74 TY Madrich 1974 YJ Florida Director 1977-79 TY Head Counselor TY 1979 YJG Board member 2012-2022, married to Gita Berman

Gita Berman: TY Sgan Merakezet 1979, married to Steve Berman

Michael Berman : TY 1971-4. YC/Machon 1975-6. TY Madrich 1977. TY Merakez 1978. YJG Board 2012-2026 (Chair from 2014-2022)

Lauren Berman: TY 1975, 1976, 1977. YC 1978-1979.

Daniel Berman: TY 1975, 1976, 1978, Kitchen 1979-1980, YC/Machon 1979-80 Rosh Machaneh TY 1985

Michael Maze: CYJ Texas 1993-96 TY 1997,99 Machon 1998 YC 2000-01 TY staff 2001-03 Summer programs staff 05 IDF 2008-09 Marriage to Mara Berman 2011- Current Parent of one (soon two!!!) CJ campers

Mara Berman: CJ 1994-1999, 2002-2004 Machon 2000 TY 99, 2001, 2004 YC 2002-2003 Staffed Israel Programs 2005, 2006 Staffed YC 2007-2008 Married to Michael Maze Parent of one (soon two!!!) CJ campers

Oren Berman: CYJ Midwest 1998-99 CIT at CYJ Midwest 2002 YC 2003-4 CYJ West in Oregon 2006

Aviva Berman: CJ 1996-2000 TY 2000-2002 Machon 2003 Year Course 2004-05 TY staff 2004-05 CJ staff 2005-06 Lev HaDarom Regional Mazkirut 2002-03 National Mazkirut 2003-04 Parent of CJ camper 2024-present

Eitan Berman: CJ 1999-2005 TY 2005-2006 Lev HaDarom Regional/Merchav Boom Boom Mazkirut 2005-2008 Machon 2007 YC 2008-2009 CJ Staff 2008-2009 Israel Army 2009-2012

Noah Berman: CYJ Midwest 2000-07 TY 05-07 Regional Mazkirut 05-08 National Mazkirut 08-09 YC 2009-10 TY Staff 2009-11 Midwest Staff 13 YJ Israel Staff 13-14 IDF 2014-2015 Married to Naama Dahari

Naama Dahari Berman TY 2009-2011 CYJ Midwest 2013 Married to Noah Berman

Shira Berman: CJ camper 2001-2006 TY camper 2007-2008 Machon 2009 Year course 2010-2011 CJ staff 2010-2013

Matan Berman: CJ Camper 2008-2015 TY Camper 2015-16 TY Staff 2018-2019 YC 2018-2019 National Maz 2018

By Chuck Fox, Tel Yehudah 1987-1988

I was here in Israel twenty-three months ago, in January 2024, three months after the start of the war, for a week-long Young Judaea Alumni mission during which we met survivors, families of victims, and thought leaders from journalism and politics, and volunteered by picking cucumbers and making care packages for displaced persons.

At that time, in Hostage Square, the large digital clock was at 115 days. Now I am here in December 2025. The art exhibits in Hostage Square have mostly been disassembled, but because we are all still short one final hostage whose body has not yet been returned, the clock continues to count upward. It is at 815 days upon my return.

Seven hundred days that I was at home, living in freedom and peace, not hiding in bomb shelters. Days that my two 20-something-aged kids were not serving in the IDF, but studying and working in the U.S., able to hug me when I came to visit them. Days that I worked as a volunteer as my synagogue board chair, in part trying to support Israel by fighting antisemitism and promoting Jewish pride within the United States. I am so glad to be back in Israel during a time when so many people here, collectively as a population, have (at least, maybe) started to exhale.

Although Israelis are still in a post-trauma phase after October 7th, I am not hearing from them that they are still in the trauma and reliving that day over and over again every day, the way that I heard from so many of them two long years ago. My stepfather lives in Jerusalem and, between COVID and the wars with Hamas and Iran, hasn’t felt safe traveling back to the U.S. to visit his grandkids for nearly six years. He’s finally starting to think about making the trek. Our good friends who live in Shoham, near Ben Gurion Airport, whose son had just finished his IDF training when I was here last time, are now able to sleep at night again, as he is almost done with his service.

I have spent the last two weeks here mostly just trying to “live like an Israeli” for a little while, as much as a middle-aged American who speaks broken Hebrew can in the heart of Tel Aviv. My wife, Amy, and I rented an Airbnb. She worked a bit during the first week, but mostly we’ve spent time with family and friends—walking the city and boardwalk, eating our way through falafel, pizza, sushi, Chinese, and Italian food, soaking up the sun by day, and watching the Mediterranean sunset in the late afternoon. We have perused art galleries in Florentin, had a prix fixe menu on New Year’s Eve, rented “MetroFun” bikes, toured the Tel Aviv Museum of Art and the ANU Museum on the campus of Tel Aviv University, and met up with friends from back home in Atlanta and from growing up in Maryland, here and there.

When I am at the beach in Tel Aviv, I can see the Dan Panorama Hotel where I stayed with my Young Judaean friends for six days two years ago. I can see the yellow-domed gas station at which we were loading onto our bus when the tzeva adom alarm sounded and we had to run back into the hotel and hide in the mamad until the Iron Dome shot down rockets coming from Gaza to South Tel Aviv. I can look at the hotel and know that it’s filled with tourists now, and not the hundreds of refugees from Israeli towns on the border of Lebanon who lived there for months after the start of the war, and with whom we shared our accommodations and meals during the week we were here volunteering as Judaeans in 2024.

I am extremely fortunate to be good friends with several IDF soldiers, as many of them have worked with Amy as Shinshinim in Atlanta during their gap year between high school and army service, through a program with the Jewish Federation of Atlanta via the Jewish Agency. It has been so great to see them, give them a hug, treat them to coffee or meals, hear stories of their time in basic training or about their jobs (what they’re able to share!) in the army, and hear what they miss about America. And to know that we are being protected by the best of the best, and that things are a little calmer for them now due to the ceasefire than they would have been last year.

I had lunch today in the heart of Jerusalem with the daughter of one of my best friends from high school. She is a lone soldier who is four months away from finishing her army service, and she just got engaged. It gave me such incredible pride to spend time with her and hear about her experiences and her fellow soldiers that, after we parted ways, my heart was pounding to the point where I thought it was going to beat right out of my chest.

Two days ago, Amy and I took our 23-year-old daughter, Sydney, to the Gaza Envelope for the day to tour the border kibbutzim, the car museum, and the Nova Festival site. So many innocent Israeli children were taken from us in one morning 815 days ago—mostly Jewish people, but also a diverse group of Thais, Druze, Bedouins, and Christians, as anyone who has been following the war knows. People who, while beautifully and tastefully memorialized in the south of Israel so that we can pay our respects and bear witness, have been silenced forever.

But there is hope here now. Next to our Airbnb there is a preschool whose kids are dropped off at about 8 a.m. every morning. It is such a treat to hear the happy voices of small Jewish children filling our street as they start their school day. On the beach are young men and women going for a jog or a bike ride, walking arm in arm with their partners, or joyously playing beach volleyball—using their hands, heads, shoulders, and feet—sometimes yelling as they dive for the ball. As I hear these sounds, it fills my heart to know that, at least for the moment, they are able to live their lives carefree and full of enjoyment.

I spent some of the afternoon today walking around the Old City, and tonight I will be back on the Mediterranean, having dinner in the heart of Jaffa. These are two places where Jews, Muslims, and Christians are strikingly and beautifully able to coexist peacefully day after day, year after year (even if it’s complicated!). My prayer for Israel, for the Middle East, and for the world is that we can use their example to inspire us to continue to uphold the ceasefire, continue to pick up the pieces, and find meaning and joy in life in the wake of the disaster that befell this country and our people in 2023.

Let Ran Gvili be returned. Let the clock in Hostage Square be stopped, turned off, and taken away—maybe even taken to the trash dump, crushed and incinerated, and forgotten forever. Let it be soon. As Young Judaea inspired me and enabled me to come back to Israel in the wake of the war many months ago, I hope that those of you reading this will find a way to use your YJ connection to come back to Israel soon—bring your kids, contribute to the economy, and help our people and our homeland continue to regain a sense of normalcy in 2026.

By Natalie Pittman, National Mazkira 2025-2026

This week, I was honored to join the AZM Biennial Conference as a teen leader representing Young Judaea with AZYC. When I first arrived at the conference, I had the opportunity to meet teens from across the country whom I had been working with on Zoom. Each one was an active member and leader of a Zionist youth organization, working towards supporting Jewish communities and Israel.

I was immediately impressed by each teen at the event. Everyone was conversing with the adults in the room, bringing voices, knowledge and opinions into the conversation, and inspiring one another to engage in activism.
As the day continued, we listened to countless speakers and heard various perspectives from Zionist leaders.

I particularly remember one session in which an amazing speaker told her personal story of survival, growth, inspiration, and determination during an attack. Then, she asked the teens in the room a question: as future leaders of the Jewish community, what do we need to help our Zionist movements succeed?

As I thought about this question, memories that shape my Jewish identity filled my head. I pictured celebrating Shabbat with my YJ community, laughing during Rikkud, debating Israeli politics with my friends, and so much more. To me, my connection to Israel and Judaism is fueled by Young Judaea. I realized that the joy YJ brings into my life inspires me to be a passionate leader in the Jewish community.

I then shared my answer with the group: I think that good Zionist leaders are rooted in love for, and joyous experiences associated with, the Jewish community and Israel.

The conference reminded me that as a leader in YJ, I have the responsibility to educate my peers about these important values. I am determined to work hard to bring Jewish knowledge, connection, pride and joy into the Young Judaea community.

Meet the new Director of CYJ Midwest, Dan Ravitch!

Learn more about CYJ Midwest!