Back in January, Rabbi Adam Drucker, Director of Education for Young Judaea Israel, traveled across the U.S. to reconnect with Year Course alumni on college campuses.

Over the course of the tour, Rabbi Adam visited five key campuses and engaged with more than 180 students, including over 100 Young Judaea program alumni. Gatherings took place at Binghamton University, UT Austin, Tulane University, Rutgers University, and the University of Miami.

Alumni enjoyed the opportunity to catch up and stay engaged with the Young Judaea community!

The YJ community recently lost our beloved colleague, teacher, and friend, Orit Segal, z”l. After a courageous battle with cancer, our community has lost an angel and a true source of light.

Orit’s professional legacy with Young Judaea Israel spanned nearly three decades, during which she was the source of magic and inspiration behind one of our core missions: teaching Hebrew.

She joined YJI in 1999 as a dedicated member of our Hebrew Studies faculty. In 2014, she was appointed Director of Ulpan, a leadership role she held until 2026.

As a professional, Orit was profoundly modest, yet her impact on our organization was immense. Under her direction, the Hebrew department was completely transformed. She championed teaching Hebrew not just as an academic subject, but as a living, breathing language. She created an Ulpan curriculum that was cutting-edge, engaging, fun, and deeply meaningful. Relentlessly driven to help every single student succeed, she extended her passion to personalized classes for advanced learners and proudly taught Arabic to those eager to expand their horizons. Beyond the classroom, she also served as the brilliant architect of our Yom Hazikaron program for many years, guiding our participants through moments of national remembrance with immense sensitivity and grace.

Thousands of Young Judaea participants have been touched by her leadership, her warmth, and the program she so masterfully built. The Hebrew program of Young Judaea is Orit’s creation, and her professional contributions are forever woven into the very fabric of our organization.

We extend our deepest condolences to her husband, Asaf, and her children, Maayan, Noam, and Avigail.

יהי זכרה ברוך

May her memory be a blessing

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….

Hi! My name is Natalie Pittman, and I am so excited to be the National Mazkira of Young Judaea this year! 

I was pretty much born into the Young Judaea community, as my mom participated in many YJ programs. I was so excited when it was finally my turn to go to camp. I went to Sprout Lake for the first time in 2015 and attended for seven summers. I then went to Tel Yehudah for three. This past summer, I was fortunate enough to spend time at TY, on YJ’s teen summer program in Israel, Gesher, and as a counselor at Sprout Lake! 

I joined YJ Teens in high school, and realized that attending year-round events was a great way to reunite with camp friends. I discovered that YJ Teens has a lot to offer, and the community quickly became one of the biggest parts of my life. 

YJ Teens is unique in so many ways. Everyone in the movement has a voice that matters.

We are able to disagree respectfully and have mature conversations, and learn from one another. YJ Teens pushes me to make the world a better place and do my part to volunteer in the broader community. This year, the National Initiative is Human Trafficking Awareness, and I am excited to see what our teens will do to fight for human rights regarding this issue.

Young Judaea has helped me strengthen my Jewish identity, explore my connection to Israel, and become a contributing member of the world. Most importantly, the YJ community has given me some of the best friendships I could ever wish for. 

My first leadership position in YJ Teens was as the Israel and Social Action Programmer on the Northeast Mazkirut/Peer Leadership Board. In this role, I helped plan monthly events with the other Northeast Maz members, and I made sure we incorporated Israel and Antisemitism into every event. This upcoming year, I am excited to lead the National Mazkirut in planning an amazing convention, organizing a project centered on our National Initiative, and growing the YJ Teens community nationally. 

In our current world, it is more important than ever for Jewish teens to be informed, proud, and empowered to stand up against antisemitism, able to engage in conversations about Israel, and part of a Jewish community. YJ Teens does just this, and I am so excited to be the leader of the YJ Teens movement in the upcoming year. 

I cannot wait to see all of our teen leaders thrive this year and see what YJ Teens can accomplish!

Tell us about your involvement in Young Judaea.
I started at Sprout Lake when I was 10, then went on to Tel Yehudah in ’94 and ‘95, Machon, and Year Course 1998-99. I was also involved a bit in the New York club as a kid.

Do you still connect with friends from YJ?
Absolutely. I’m still very close with about 15 friends from my YJ days. The special part is that now our kids all go to Sprout together—it’s truly a second generation of our group.

What impact has YJ had on your life?
My closest lifelong friends are from YJ, and those friendships have grown into family bonds. YJ also gave me confidence to be an organizer, to bring people together. The programming taught us not what to think, but how to think—presenting all sides of complex issues and trusting us to form our own conclusions.

And of course, Israel. YJ’s approach is spot on. It’s about love for the culture, the shira, the rikkud, and the history. Being able to engage deeply with Israel as a teenager shaped how I connect to my Jewish identity today.

What prompted you to get back involved?
After October 7th, I felt an urgent need to return to Israel. When I saw the YJ mission announcement, I signed up immediately. That week—meeting survivors, visiting cemeteries, and then being back at Kibbutz Ketura—was incredibly powerful. Looking at the sunset in the Negev, it reawakened the spirituality I felt as a 19-year-old, and my connection to Young Judaea.

Is YJ still relevant today?
More than ever. Being Jewish in America right now is more challenging than it’s been in generations. YJ provides a safe space where kids can truly be themselves, explore their Jewish identity, and build a meaningful connection to Israel. That kind of environment is rare—and essential.

What inspired you to organize reunions?
Honestly, I just love hanging out with my YJ friends. It never feels like a burden—it’s fun, and it’s rewarding to bring everyone together. I encourage other alumni to start with your own age group or “adah.” Once you gather a critical mass, the magic of YJ friendships takes over naturally.

Eli’s YJ History: Sprout Lake 1990-92, Tel Yehudah 1994-95, Counselor at YJ West and MH (at Tel Yehudah) 1997, Year Course 1998-99

How did Young Judaea shape your Jewish and Zionist identity?
Growing up at CYJ gave me the foundation to create and flourish my Jewish and Zionist identity. It instilled in me a love and deep knowledge of Israel, and later TY and Year Course solidified that. It also gave me the chance to be my most authentic Jewish self and connect with people who practice Judaism differently than I do, which was so impactful since I didn’t get that exposure at home. And of course its given me so many friends, and people I now consider family.

Did your Year Course or other YJ experiences influence your decision to become involved in Israel advocacy on campus?
On Year Course, I worked with Israelis and Palestinians through Magen David Adom and gained firsthand insight into Israeli life. That experience deepened my connection to Israel and gave me the confidence to engage others in real dialogue. Working at CYJ Texas also shaped how I think about Israel education, especially for younger generations.

In what ways have you stepped up on campus since 10/7/23?
I became president of Hoosiers for Israel and also serve as co-marketing chair on our Hillel student board. In these roles, I’ve helped plan and promote events like Israel Palooza, our October 7th memorial, and other programs that support and uplift Jewish students on campus.

Why do you think YJ is still relevant for young people today?
A lot of Jewish youth movements have lost popularity, but they’re so important. They bring people together around shared values and create space for real conversations. Unlike sports or arts, this kind of ideological community lets young people explore their faith and identity, ask tough questions, and grow together.

Mikayla’s YJ History: CYJ Texas 2014-18, Tel Yehudah 2019, CIT/Staff at CYJ Texas 2021-2025, Year Course 2022-23

When did Young Judaea first become part of your life?

I joined in high school, and it quickly became the focus of my life. I went to Tel Yehudah, did Year Course, and even volunteered on a moshav during the Yom Kippur War. Those experiences shaped my connection to Israel and Zionism.

How did your involvement continue after Year Course?

In college at Brandeis, I stayed active in YJ—leading clubs in Newton, working at Tel Yehudah (where I met my wife), and helping start a garin to Kibbutz Ketura. YJ gave me real responsibility early on. Everything was peer-led, and we learned by doing.

What inspired you to start the Israel Ride?

Years later, my old YJ friend David Lehrer was leading the Arava Institute. I had gotten into biking and thought—why not create a ride to raise money for the Arava? It felt very YJ to support Israel, peace, and the environment. The first year we had 30 riders; soon it was over 100. In 20 years, the Ride has brought more than 2,000 riders and raised millions. In many ways, organizing it felt just like running a YJ pe’ulah.

How do you see the impact of Young Judaea on your life today?

YJ taught me as much about leadership as anything else I’ve ever done—including school. I learned how to communicate, involve people in discussion, and hold multiple perspectives while working toward a shared purpose. YJ gave me mission and responsibility, and it’s why I’ve devoted so much of my life to nonprofit work, education, and Israel.

Why are you serving on the Young Judaea board today, and as treasurer?

Now more than ever, a Zionist youth movement is essential in America. For YJ to thrive, it needs strong, year-round activity to complete the circle. I joined the board, and took on the role of treasurer, to help make that happen and ensure YJ continues shaping the next generation the way it shaped me.

Howie’s YJ History: Mazkirut New England, Tel Yehudah camper and staff, Year Course 1972-73, YJ Club Madrich, Machon and Chavurat Yisrael, Madrich MA and Merakez

By Perri Schwartz, Year Course 2021-22

Year Course didn’t just give me amazing friendships and unforgettable memories—it inspired me to give back in ways I never imagined. The program showed me that service, leadership, and listening deeply to others are powerful acts of change.

During my time on Year Course, I made it a priority to learn from both Israelis and Palestinians on the ground, gaining a deeper understanding of the geopolitics of this beautiful land. One of the most defining parts of the program was my internship with Israel Daily News. That experience not only opened doors professionally but also set the foundation for the work I continue to do now.

Since completing Year Course, my path has only grown from there. I’ve been back with Israel Daily News since September 2024, and next month I’ll be celebrating my one-year anniversary. Alongside my journalism and content creation, I joined Repair The World as part of their summer service corps and now serve as a service ambassador. I also started a local chapter of Run 4 Their Lives, a challenging but meaningful mission that has already seen real growth.

Most recently, I participated in a 5-day retreat with Repair The World and Moishe House in Western North Carolina, helping a community still recovering from Hurricane Helene. That experience reminded me once again that real change doesn’t happen overnight—it happens when we show up, listen, and stand in solidarity.

The skills I gained through Year Course continue to shape me every day. Through my digital activism (@perrispeaks_ on Instagram) and leadership projects, I’ve grown into a stronger person who refuses to give up on my dreams—even when my college path didn’t go the way I planned. Today, I’m proud to be a published writer not just for IDN, but also in The Jerusalem Post, Times of Israel Blogs, and Unpacked Media. And I know this is just the beginning.

In Judaism, service isn’t just a value—it’s a divine act of engagement. When we commit to helping others, we sanctify that holy duty. As Pirkei Avot (Mishnah 4:5) teaches:

“Whoever saves a single life, it is as though they have saved an entire world.”

Every person is a universe of potential, stories, and worth. By serving with humility, respect, and love, we honor the divine spark within each individual.

I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished so far and even more excited about what lies ahead. We are capable of more than we think. Here’s to continuing the work—and to doing more good, together, for the world.

By Aviva Schonbrun, Year Course 2024-2025

My name is Aviva Schonbrun and I was on Year Course 2024-2025.

Today was my college orientation. I didn’t know anyone and was really nervous about meeting new people. Part of that anxiety came from not knowing what to say if someone asked me about my past year. I was honestly scared to mention Israel to the wrong person.

I made my first friend at the campus Starbucks, and while we chatted, I followed her on Instagram. I then noticed she had just posted a congratulations message for the new mayor of New York City (someone who’s openly anti-Zionist and antisemitic). I immediately got nervous. I obviously didn’t know where she stood on Israel, but I took it as a bad sign.

Eventually, she asked about my gap year, but instead of freezing up, I confidently said Israel. Surprisingly, she said “That’s so cool” We walked to the next meeting together, and I decided to open up to her about my hesitation to share where I had spent the year, and told her I had been relieved by her response.

Then she said, “ Honestly, I don’t really even know much about what’s going on right now, are you able to explain? All I’ve heard is Israel bombs Gaza.”

I know this stuff comes up on college campuses, but I definitely wasn’t expecting to have this conversation within my very first hour there, but after this year, I felt a sense of responsibility to share what I’ve learned.

I tried to explain briefly the history and nuance of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and then October 7th. She kept asking questions and we talked for another 30 minutes while we waited in line. I did my best to use what I’ve learned this year- listening to her perspective and filling in the gaps with what she didn’t know.

At the end, she thanked me for teaching her and I felt a sense of accomplishment and pride. I’m incredibly grateful to Year Course for giving me the confidence and the educational tools to engage in these tough conversations, and hopefully make a difference. Thank you for everything this past year. I miss it so much!

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