I wasn’t always certain that my path in life would include making aliyah to Israel and serving in the IDF. After finishing high school, I spent a year studying at the Shalom Hartman Institute in Jerusalem, and then returned to the US to begin college at Muhlenberg.
As a psychology major, I envisioned myself working in the future with children and trauma. That didn’t exactly line up with a military career, and I knew I wasn’t suited for combat – much to my mother’s great relief. I imagined myself working in liberal educational organizations, participating in protests, and contributing to Israeli society from the perspective of education and civil life.
Then came October 7. Already in those college days, I knew Israel was my home, and that after graduation I would make aliyah. But how exactly that would look – that was still unclear.
A change of plans
From that horrific day on, all of my plans changed. I mostly remember being glued to my phone, searching for every piece of information, feeling powerless in the face of Israel’s reality. It was hard to talk to anyone who wasn’t living that pain day by day.
Then, almost without noticing, the semester ended and I left for a semester abroad in Vienna.
Strangely, it was there, at a distance, that I began to breathe again. I wandered through museums, tasted new foods, and for a moment lived in a sense of normality.
However, that bubble burst during a Passover visit to Israel. A friend picked me up from the train and explained on the way to an ice-cream shop that the address on the app was deliberately scrambled, so that Hamas wouldn’t know where to target rockets.
Time froze. I realized that Israel was still living October 7, even while I had moved on with semesters and travels. That moment shook me deeply. I understood I couldn’t build a life in Israel while ignoring reality. If I truly wanted to be part of the story, I had to step fully into it – even if that meant enlisting. I needed to put myself in the game, not just stand on the sidelines.
Aliyah and IDF service
I didn’t choose Kibbutz Hanaton; Hanaton chose me. The garin that was launched here this year felt like it had been waiting for me all along. Because I had grown up in a pluralistic, egalitarian, and semi-traditional environment, this is the only kibbutz where I could imagine embarking on the adventure of aliyah and IDF service. Hanaton became the answer to a question I hadn’t even known I was asking.
Here I found the entry point to Israel and the army that aligned with my values. Meeting the families, the warmth of the mechina (preparatory program) community, and the unconditional welcome – all of this set my heart at ease. I am proud of my liberal values, my wide compassion, and my belief that one can, and must, critique Israel from a place of love and commitment.
At Hanaton I’ve met people who think like me, people who believe in action, openheartedness, and hope. At a time when hatred dominates so much of the discourse, I believe the only way to resist it is with openness and a deep conviction that a better future is possible.
This is how I am beginning my year: with great faith, in partnership with a beautiful community, and with the support of Garin Tzabar.
I don’t know exactly where this path will lead me, but I know this choice – especially now – is the right step for me. Alongside me are about 30 young men and women from North America who made aliyah through the Tzabar Scouts program, and together we are on the most unique campus imaginable, joined by another 70 students from the pre-army mechina.
I came here because I wanted to be part of a community that honors Shabbat, while also allowing me to take on an active leadership role in an egalitarian minyan.
My family and friends are proud of me for following my dreams, and support me wholeheartedly.
I want to help create the Israel I believe in, and I look forward to the challenges of this year, to truly consider what I believe in and what mark I want to leave on the world.
The writer is a 23-year-old from the US, and a participant in the Garin Tzabar program at Kibbutz Hanaton.