The last time I visited Israel was the summer of 2023. At the time, I was working for Hadassah and had the privilege of traveling to Israel regularly. When I boarded my plane home at the end of that summer, I simply assumed I would be back soon—Israel had become a place woven into the fabric of my life.
Then came October 7.
Like so many, my world shifted. Travel became impossible, and what I thought would be months stretched into more than two years. Israel felt far away not only physically, but emotionally—an ache I couldn’t fully name until I finally returned this winter on the Jewish Federation’s Tikkun Together mission as part of Birthright Israel’s volunteer program.
I was unprepared for the intensity of emotion that washed over me the moment I arrived. It was as if a piece of my heart and soul—quietly missing—slid back into place. I felt whole again.
Thirty-two of us planned to travel. But winter storm Fern had other plans, and eleven remained in Nashville without power. Our group departed with heavy hearts, carrying our friends with us in spirit and sending up silent prayers of relief every time another household regained electricity.
Those who made the journey formed an extraordinary cohort. We represented a wide range of ages—30 to 50—and a tapestry of identities: men, women, singles, couples, parents, Israel first timers, and seasoned travelers. Some knew Israel intimately; others were just beginning to understand its complexity and its deep ties to Nashville. But everyone came with open hearts and open minds. Several of us started as strangers; all of us left as friends.
Our itinerary balanced learning with hands-on volunteering nearly every day. Everywhere we went, we witnessed Israel’s remarkable resilience. Construction cranes dotted the skyline of the Gaza envelope—new homes, apartments, and businesses rising from devastation. The determination to rebuild was inspiring. But beneath the progress lay a truth that every Israeli carries:
They are moving forward, but they are not okay.
Trauma is the undercurrent of daily life. Everyone we met had a story. Everyone we met had lost someone, something, or a sense of safety that once felt foundational.
Our very first stop was the Haas Promenade overlooking Jerusalem. As we gathered to take in the golden city, a local Jerusalemite approached us. She couldn’t contain her joy. “Thank you for coming,” she said, beaming. Her gratitude felt almost disproportionate to our simple act of showing up—yet it was echoed again and again throughout our week.
During Havdalah overlooking the Mediterranean Sea, our song leader reminded us that Israel cannot survive without the Jews of the diaspora. Later, in our Partnership2Gether region of Hadera-Eiron, we heard again how deeply our support, connection, and friendship matter—how they are lifelines.
On a farm where we volunteered, the farmers thanked us with a humility that was hard to absorb. They shared that they had lost their Palestinian workforce because of the war, and their Thai workers had left out of fear. They didn’t fully understand why Jews from around the world would come to help harvest crops—but without that help, they simply could not continue.
And then there was our time with the mother of Adi Rivka Meisel—a beautiful young woman murdered at the Nova Festival. She told us that sharing her daughter’s story gives her strength to keep living. She urged us to embrace life, to find joy, and to refuse to let despair be the final word.
At every stop, in every conversation, gratitude flowed in both directions.
This is Klal Yisrael—Jewish peoplehood in its most profound form.
Our mission allowed us to see firsthand how Federation dollars—your dollars—are making an impact. We witnessed trauma counseling in action, food distribution for families in crisis, safe spaces for children, emergency response initiatives, and rebuilding efforts supported directly by our community. These are not abstract line items; they are real lives sustained and strengthened by your generosity.
This experience reaffirmed several truths:
- Presence matters. Showing up—physically—brings hope and strength in ways words cannot.
- Partnership is sacred. Our relationships with communities in Israel are mutual, powerful, and essential.
- Leadership requires heart. Listening, witnessing, comforting, and being present are sometimes the most important acts of leadership.
- Resilience is learned together. Israelis teach us courage; we offer them connection. Both are necessary.
Missions transform. They deepen identity, expand understanding, and strengthen Jewish community at home and abroad. A mission doesn’t just tell a story—it creates one. For many participants, this trip reconnected them to Israel, to Jewish peoplehood, and to their own sense of purpose in Jewish communal life.
As our mission came to an end and we prepared to return to Nashville, one message echoed through every person we met, every hand we held, and every story we carried home: our presence matters. Missions are not simply trips—they are acts of solidarity, healing, and Jewish continuity. When we show up in Israel, our brothers and sisters feel it. And when we return home, we are changed, more committed, more informed, and more inspired to act.
Missions remind us why Federation exists: to strengthen Jewish life everywhere and ensure that no Jew, anywhere, ever feels alone. As we look ahead to the upcoming Yoms, to the work that continues, and to the future we are building together, may we carry with us the deep understanding that our unity is our greatest strength—and our shared journey is our greatest hope.
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