Birthright Israel Is a Jolt of Jewish Identity

I am a Chabad rabbi living in Dallas, Texas, though I’m originally from England. I work primarily in Jewish adult education. My parents were both from South Africa, and I grew up in a Zionist family. After I met my wife, who is American, I moved to the U.S. in 2002. 

I wasn’t raised observant, but I became observant in college. There were a few different reasons. I was in Israel around the time of the Oslo Accords in 1993. There was a tremendous feeling of optimism and pride. Even though it didn’t work out the way people hoped, at the time there was something powerful in the air, and I started feeling proud of being Jewish for the first time. 

Another reason was that I was in college, living with three non-Jewish housemates. Two were religious Christians, and they seemed to know more about the Bible than I did. That got me questioning my own Judaism. There was also a rise of antisemitism on campus in England. It made me think: why are people so obsessed with us? There are so many human rights abuses around the world, but somehow it always comes back to the Jews. 

All of that got me thinking about what it meant to be Jewish. Around that time, Bill Clinton had the slogan, “It’s the economy, stupid.” For me, it became, “It’s Judaism, stupid.” I realized that what has kept the Jewish people going for 2,000 years of exile is Judaism itself. So, I started, for the first time, to examine Judaism with an open mind. I was young, in my early 20s, and open to exploring. And the more I got into it, it just made sense to me. 

When I was a child in England, my father had many friends in Israel, so we used to go quite often. But then, after I moved to America, it became much harder. From England it’s a five-hour flight; from America it’s a bigger trip. For many years after I got married, I only went once or twice. I was raising a family, busy with life—it just wasn’t practical. 

Then in 2018, I received an email asking for volunteers to staff Birthright Israel trips. I jumped at the opportunity. I don’t work on a college campus, so I don’t typically interact with many young people. And unlike campus rabbis, I take participants I’ve never met before. That was part of the appeal. Since then, I’ve led about six trips. And I absolutely love it. Leading these trips is one of the highlights of my year. 

The ten days go by so quickly. But if you ask me what’s the most special part, it’s the interaction with the Israelis. As a religious Jew—what they would call Haredi—I find it incredibly meaningful to be an approachable representative. Someone who smiles, who has a sense of humor. There’s a real divide in Israeli society, and I think both sides could do more to bridge it. But on these trips, I get to meet soldiers who may have never interacted with someone like me before. And more than once, they’ve told me, “We didn’t know people like you were like this. We thought you were serious, distant.” That means a lot. 

I also love watching the participants interact—with each other, with Israelis. Sometimes they even fall in love. On my last trip, there’s still a couple—a lone Israeli soldier and an American girl—who are maintaining a long-distance relationship. It’s beautiful. 

But beyond that, what I’ve really seen, especially since October 7, is a shift. There’s been an explosion of antisemitism in America—on campuses, in workplaces—and it’s affecting young Jews deeply. Coming to Israel now, they experience something different: a place where they don’t have to justify their identity, where they don’t have to explain or apologize. It’s home. 

The reactions are visceral. When we visit places like the Nova site, the responses are raw, emotional. And when they go back to America, they carry that with them. When Israel is under attack, they feel it personally. There’s a sense of identification, of belonging, of wanting to strengthen their Jewish identity. I’ve seen more of that since October 7 than before. And it’s obvious why. 

Birthright Israel allows participants to experience Judaism. And I emphasize that word—experience. In America, for many people, Judaism is taught or instructed, but it’s not lived. On Birthright Israel, it becomes real. In Israel, everything changes. There’s a different atmosphere. A different rhythm. 

Many participants come from interfaith homes—one Jewish parent, one not. They’ve celebrated everything and nothing at the same time—Christmas and Hanukkah, Easter and Passover—but without a deep connection to either. So, when they encounter Shabbat for the first time in a meaningful way, it’s eye-opening. 

And then there’s the diversity. Sephardi, Ashkenazi, Jews of different backgrounds. It challenges the narrow image people often have of what a Jew looks like. It’s exposure they simply haven’t had before. 

I always tell my participants: a shy person never learns. There’s no such thing as a stupid question. If you have a question about Judaism, ask it. This is your opportunity. I may not always have the perfect answer, but we can have a conversation. And those one-on-one moments often matter the most. 

Some of the most powerful experiences happen at places like Mount Herzl. Standing by the graves of soldiers, hearing stories—sometimes from other soldiers who knew them—and watching participants react as if they’ve lost a family member. That sense of collective belonging, of peoplehood, often emerges for the first time. It’s incredibly moving. 

The training seminars for madrichim and educators are also a big part of what makes this work so effective. I’ve participated in two now, including the most recent one with the Shalom Hartman Institute. They are extremely professional—logistically, programmatically, everything is thought through in detail. The programming is intense, jam-packed, but in a good way. 

What stands out to me is the emphasis on growth. There’s a recognition that Jewish educators need to keep learning. Just because you’re a rabbi or a teacher doesn’t mean you’re finished. In other professions—law, medicine, education—there’s always continuing development. Birthright Israel applies that same principle here. 

The seminars include large sessions, smaller groups, and even more intimate discussions. There’s space for reflection, for real conversations about difficult issues. And there’s a diversity of perspectives—people from different denominations, different backgrounds—so you’re forced out of your bubble. That’s incredibly valuable. 

You come away from these seminars feeling that Birthright Israel is an organization that knows what it’s doing. It’s thoughtful, intentional, and committed to its goals. It’s a success story. And people want to be part of something successful. 

For me, there’s a great sense of gratitude. I feel a real debt to Birthright Israel. That’s why when someone reaches out, I say yes. I want to give back in whatever way I can. 

Leading these trips has also impacted my work as a rabbi. It reconnects me with a younger generation—their energy, their openness, their willingness to engage. It makes me feel younger. It reminds me why I do what I do. It strengthens my passion for being Jewish and for being an educator. 

If I were speaking to someone considering donating, I would say it’s very simple. The data shows that younger Jews feel less connected to Israel. And with rising antisemitism, there’s a growing desire to blend in, to not stand out. That’s only going to get worse. 

The solution isn’t just fighting antisemitism directly—it’s strengthening Jewish identity. Birthright Israel is on the front lines of that effort. It creates proud Jews, connected Jews, Jews who feel a sense of belonging to their people and their homeland. 

It’s not just the ten-day trip. It’s what comes after, too—the Volunteer program, the Onward and Excel Fellowships, the continued engagement. The trip starts the engine. It builds momentum. 

We can’t underestimate the transformative power of ten days. It’s a jolt—a shock wave, in a positive sense—of Jewish identity. And it leaves a lasting impression. 

Honestly, I don’t think there’s a better investment than Birthright Israel. It’s not rocket science. You want a strong Jewish future? You invest in experiences that create strong Jewish identities. That’s what Birthright Israel does. And that’s why I keep coming back.