Every summer, Jewish teenagers around the world look forward to a journey that promises transformation: traveling to Israel. These trips have long been sacred rites of passage—crucial experiences that nurture Jewish identity, connect teens to our people’s story, and build lifelong ties to the land of our ancestors.
This summer, many of those journeys will be disrupted by ongoing travel and safety restrictions. The disappointment is real and deeply felt. And let us be absolutely clear: this is not the fault of our teens or their families. They have shown up with curiosity, hope, and open hearts—ready to step into the story we’ve told them is theirs to inherit. They are not the ones who have fallen short. As such, as Jewish communities, we must rise to meet the moment this crisis demands.
This is more than just a missed trip—it’s a critical loss of Jewish connection, identity-building, and pride. We’ve seen what happens when milestone experiences vanish. During the pandemic, B’nai Mitzvahs were downsized, Jewish summer camps were canceled, schools were closed and communal life shrank. A generation grew more distant. We cannot allow that to happen again.
And so, we must be prepared to pivot—with urgency, creativity, and care. If Israel is temporarily out of reach, perhaps this summer becomes the moment we send our teens to Europe, South America, or North Africa—to walk the streets of their Ashkenazi, Sephardi and Mizrachi ancestors, to explore Jewish resilience and tragedy, to witness the echoes of Jewish life across continents. These experiences, too, can spark pride and transformation. Lets be clear it is not a replacement but an immunization of Jewish continuity.
But they must be intentional, not improvised. And most importantly, they must come with a clear message: your Israel journey is postponed, not canceled. We will get you there.
We don’t have the luxury to surrender another summer, youth in 2020, 2021 had similar dilemmas; these teens have looked forward to for years. We owe them more than disappointment and delay. We owe them meaning, connection, and the unwavering reassurance that they are not forgotten.
We must meet this moment with clarity and urgency, or we risk weakening their relationship with Judaism, their people, and with Israel itself. The Israel experience is not a luxury—it is a lifeline to our future. It offers an unfiltered encounter with Jewish vitality, modern Israeli life, and the living heartbeat of our story. To miss that experience is not just a personal loss—it is a communal catastrophe we will feel for years to come, as these teens grow into adults for whom Israel is merely a place—not a homeland.
And this challenge doesn’t only affect our teens. My own family hopes to travel to Israel this summer. If there is any way to get there—by plane or by boat—we will go. And if not, we’ll make the next opportunity. That’s what it means to be bound to a homeland—not just in geography, but in love, memory, and resolve. For our teens, that bond is still being formed. If not this summer, then we must be intentional—deliberate—about how and when it will happen.
So let us act—together—with determination. Let us show, in word and deed, that nothing will prevent our youth from eventually walking the land of our ancestors. Let us invest in meaningful interim journeys now, even as we reaffirm that the journey to Israel remains central, sacred, and inevitable.