Every day, we think about the IDF—what they do, who they are, and what they represent. Recently, I had the privilege of strengthening my connection to the army that holds such a deep meaning not only for me, but for the entire Jewish diaspora. 

The day began with a powerful visit to Yad Vashem, where we confronted the unspeakable horrors of HaShoah. From there, we hiked through the Judean Hills, foraging from what our tour guide coined King David’s lunch box. But the tone began to shift as we passed checkpoints and entered Gush Etzion—an area known for its pivotal role in the 1948 War of Independence, and now the site of our training center. 

Upon arrival, we were greeted by active-duty IDF soldiers. As we were led to our section, past elite units training for missions too classified to even imagine the reality of where we stood began to sink in. Over the next few hours, we trained in Krav Maga, learned how to defend against knife attacks, practiced tactical maneuvers, and shot at targets. But more than any physical skill, we learned how to identify and use an opponent’s vulnerabilities.

As I reflect on the experience, I realize it became so much more than just a glimpse into Israeli defense training. It was a profound emotional, physical, and mental journey into what it truly means to be a Jew today. It reinforced a truth I’ve long felt: simply being Jewish is no longer—and will never again be enough. We must defend not only land, but life. Not just culture, but identity, pride, and purpose. That is how we secure the future of the Jewish people.

And while the training was intense, the most impactful moments came from our instructors—their personal stories, their trauma, their resilience. Many had served on the front lines. More had survived October 7th. That gloomy October morning shattered our sense of security and reminded us all that antisemitism and violence are not just part of history—they are alive today, persistent, and painfully real. 

Since October 7th, Jewish communities around the world have been targeted with hate, misinformation, and fear. And with the current escalation of tensions between Israel and Iran, we’re reminded every day how high the stakes are. My experience that day wasn’t just about how IDF soldiers train—it was about why they train. It was about understanding that the IDF is not just a military force—it’s deeply personal. It’s emotional. And above all, it’s moral.

As a Jewish teen, I’ve always believed in our generation’s power to lead with strength and conviction. Spending a day training like an IDF soldier deepened that belief. It gave me a greater appreciation for the responsibility we carry—not only to be informed, but to stand tall, speak boldly, and support each other fiercely.

We may not wear uniforms. We may not carry rifles or bear the Israeli flag on our sleeves. But make no mistake—we are on the front lines. In our schools, on social media, and in conversations with peers. The fight against antisemitism, against hate, against misinformation—it starts with us. And now more than ever, I feel the call to lead with courage, compassion, and unwavering strength.

Not just for Israel.
Not just for Jews.
But for truth. For justice. For peace.