When Israel Became More Than a Visit: Reflections from my 12th grade school trip to Israel

Written by Ella Magid, Lev V'Nefesh 2026

All my life, Israel had been spoken of like a heartbeat I couldn’t hear, a story everyone else belonged to. I worried I would arrive and feel nothing, like this place wasn’t meant for me. A few months ago, I could never have imagined myself here, having such a strong connection. 

We landed exhausted and drove straight to an overlook above the Old City of Jerusalem. It was five in the morning. The city lights shimmered softly below us. My trip leader had me to say a tefillah for being in Israel for the first time. My voice was small, but it carried a weight I had never known. Something inside me began to stir.

A few hours later, we wandered through the shuk. The air hummed with life. Vendors called out, music blended with chatter, colors of fruits, spices, and fabrics colliding into a living painting. The smells were intoxicating: warm falafel melting in my mouth, sweet breads, earthy spices. I felt alive in a way I had never known, part of something bigger than myself. For the first time, Israel felt real.

Then came the hikes. A few days later, Tel Gezer stretched before me, its dry grass and rocky paths full of stories about those who had walked here long before me. History was not something I was reading about. It was beneath my feet, around me, and through the wind. I realized I was standing inside it.

Weeks later, Ein Gedi became the breaking point. Waterfalls cut through cliffs, the air warm and thick, rushing water echoing against rock. Every direction, every sight, felt too beautiful to be true. I laughed, paused, and let myself simply exist in the moment. In that instant, I fell completely in love with this place.

And then the war began.

Sirens woke us in the middle of a host Shabbat in Tel Aviv. We ran to shelters, hearts pounding, cold concrete walls closing in. But inside, life bloomed. Voices rose together in prayer as a minyan formed. Later, during havdalah, singing filled the room, soft at first, then louder, weaving through laughter, conversation, children’s energy, and dogs wandering between legs. People brought food and we all ate together, sharing simple comfort. I looked around and realized this was what Israel felt like: community, resilience, choosing warmth, life, and connection even when the world outside felt fragile. That same day a building just a few blocks away was hit, and even then, inside the shelter, there was still life, laughter, and joy, which is what Israel is— daring to live, daring to be present, daring to love in the face of fear.

Somewhere in those moments, I realized Israel was not something I was visiting. It was something I could belong to.

As an artist about to start college back home, that realization became even more powerful. I had always loved creating art, but now I was in a place I loved, surrounded by history, energy, and possibility. One of my madrichim told me about the Bezalel Academy of Arts and Design in Jerusalem, and my chest tightened with excitement and hope. I texted my mom almost immediately, telling her I wanted to take a gap year or do an exchange year, how I wanted  to stay, to learn, to immerse myself in a place where what I loved could grow in ways I had never imagined. Suddenly, a future that had once felt impossible became vivid and real. I started dreaming of making aliyah one day, of living and creating here, of a life where my art and my heart could belong to something larger than myself. 

Every night on this trip I would ask myself if I miss home.

And every night, the answer surprises me.

Somewhere between the shuk, the hills, the waterfalls, the shelter songs, and dreams of what could come, Israel stopped being a place I was visiting.

It started feeling like home and I don’t want to leave. 

Lev v’Nefesh is an 8-week senior program at The Leffell School where students travel through Poland and Israel, learning Jewish history firsthand while deepening their identity and connection to Israel.