Nothing could have prepared me for the weight of stepping onto the Nova site.
It is a space of overwhelming destruction and murder, yet also one of beauty and strength. The juxtaposition of what happened there—innocent people simply dancing and celebrating life, only to be met with terror one could only imagine in a movie—will leave me with questions for the rest of my life.
The site stands as a living memorial to the many heroes of that day. Not just the police and security forces, but also the civilians who fought back and prevented further loss of life. The artwork, personal artifacts, and images lovingly placed by families tell a powerful story. They allow us to grieve, but also to remember, honor, and share their legacy with the world.
Just days before, our Peoplehood group met for the first time.
After months of anticipation, we finally saw each other panim el panim (face to face). There was no hesitation. We embraced like dear, old friends. It was astonishing how quickly and naturally we fell into each other’s arms. We had always known we were friends, even before we met, but who could have predicted how soon we would feel like mishpacha (family)?
The energy in the room was electric. So much so that our leaders, Martin and Ariel, had to remind us to quiet down.
But in that moment, we were already deep in connection, experiencing the “peoplehood magic” we had heard so much about.
And over the next six days, that magic only grew—through one-on-one conversations, small groups, and collective experiences. More than a fleeting moment, it was the beginning of something that will continue to evolve for years to come.
This trip opened my eyes to life in Israel in ways I had never imagined. Born and raised in New Jersey, I have lived in big cities like Chicago, smaller ones like Tampa and Providence, and even a ski town in Colorado. But all within the U.S. Until this trip, I never fully grasped the daily security measures Israelis navigate just to live their lives.
Many homes have built-in safe rooms. If not inside the home, they are nearby for the community to share in case of an attack. When sirens sound, signaling an incoming rocket, residents have mere seconds to reach safety. Depending on where they live—especially those close to Gaza—it could be as little as 15 seconds. And yet, despite this reality, Israelis remain resilient and deeply proud of their homeland. Their strength and determination inspire me.
The only challenge I faced was my lack of conversational Hebrew.
Many of the Israelis in our Peoplehood cohort found it strange that we, as Jews, did not speak Hebrew fluently. I wished I could converse with them freely. Growing up in New Jersey, most of my Jewish friends attended religious school to learn prayers, holidays, and how to become a Bar or Bat Mitzvah, but conversational Hebrew was not emphasized. Now, it is my personal goal to improve. As a Jew, I want to engage with the language beyond prayers and holiday greetings.
I want to truly communicate.
I’d love to visit Arad, Ofakim, and Kibbutz Erez again. Each place offered something unique. Though I had been to Ofakim and Kibbutz Erez twice before, I still found new reasons to appreciate them and the partnerships we share.
Arad was a first for me, and I was blown away by the beauty of the desert town. The people were warm and full of life. In Arad, I cherished the time spent with teens at the community center. In Ofakim, I would love to volunteer at the new resilience center, built after October 7 to support emotional and mental well-being. And Kibbutz Erez? It has a breathtaking field of orange and clementine trees—so fragrant and vibrant that it felt like stepping into the Garden of Eden.
As soon as both the American and Israeli groups came together in Ofakim I felt a connection amongst us all.
We quickly realized that although we are from different countries and may have some different customs, regularly eat different foods, and even speak a different language, we are connected by our love for Israel and our people’s history.
This trip showed me that people can grow up on a different side of the world and end up becoming dear friends.
Listening to our Israeli cohort speak and share their perspectives was a gift. Eating food with them, from their land and saying prayers all together in Hebrew united us and helped me to see that even with miles of distance between us on a regular basis we will now always be close in our hearts! Our differences didn’t divide us, they only made us stronger, deepening our conversations and our desire to keep learning from one another.