What going to Israel during a war taught us about our Jewish and Zionist identity
'Israel and the Diaspora will be shaped by those willing to sit in discomfort, take responsibility, and work toward something better'.
A question that is often raised in our Jewish community is, “What are our youth thinking and feeling about everything happening right now?”
This question holds more gravity given our current climate, as tensions in the Middle East continue to escalate with the recent conflict between Israel and Iran and the ongoing war in Gaza.
Earlier this year, a group of 21 young Australian Jews from different backgrounds took part in the Young Leaders’ Mission (YLM) to Israel that was organised by the Zionist Federation of Australia (ZFA) and The Jewish Agency for Israel (JAFI). Following are reflections by three of the program’s participants. These personal insights explore the perspectives of our young leaders right now, and how this mission has deeply impacted them. It also looks at what they have done and turned into action, since returning to Australia.
Amelia Page
At the beginning of the year, I had the privilege of going to Israel on the ZFA YLM. Of course, as a young person, this trip was important for many reasons. I had the opportunity to engage with what was happening in Israel during a tense and historic time, represent my movement, Habonim Dror, and connect with my culture a little bit more.
Yet, while I was in Israel, I was confronted by something extraordinary. Every single Israeli I encountered was incredibly concerned about what was happening in Australia with all the antisemitism and hate crimes. These conversations puzzled me. I couldn’t understand why Israelis cared so much about what was happening in Australia when they were watching hostage exchanges at hostage square in Tel Aviv every weekend. To me, it didn’t compare.
Every time an Israeli asked, “But Milly, how are you going with all the antisemitism?” I responded, “It’s okay. I’m more concerned about the hostages and the literal war that is happening right now.” All Israelis replied, “It’s so lucky we live here.” I always leave the conversation there. Let me think more.
Honestly, the thinking led to me reflecting on Australia more deeply. The sheer sadness and disappointment on these Israelis’ faces when asking me about antisemitism confused me at the beginning. Still, over time, I felt like something was missing back home. It eventually brought up thoughts about the upcoming election in Australia.
But I was lucky to be in Israel. These thoughts were not left to incubate in my mind but investigated with a group of 20 young Australians, and we explored what we wanted the future of the Jewish people to look like.
These conversations saw that a lot of us had the same worries about the future of the Jews in Australia and Israel and that even though a lot of us had different perspectives and values, we held similar tensions/concerns for our world. This tension ultimately led to a uniting force between the youth movements. But what was special was that at the end of the day, we were not defeated by the hopelessness of what was happening at home or in Israel. We were together, left feeling responsible for what our world could look like. We thought we could build an education on something different from what we saw in Israel and Australia. Even as I came home, I saw the election transpire here. I felt an interesting sense of hope. Even though the world felt like it was going crazy, the youth were still able to come together and unite and at least try to make a difference.
Asher Gold
The ZFA young leader’s mission was one of the most eye opening experiences of my life. I had never been to Israel before and tried to come in with no expectations despite learning a lot about it throughout my life. I grew up learning about the land, the history, the people but nothing could have prepared me for the reality of standing in Kibbutz Be’eri, surrounded by bullet holes and blackened walls, watching a big yellow bulldozer clearing the rubble of a family’s home.
This image has stayed with me, the destruction and rebuilding, grief and resilience, all tangled together in a way that feels so deeply Jewish. At that moment, the cost of Jewish sovereignty and the price of surrendering it came into sharp focus. All I could feel was anger. Angry at the terrorists who did this, the innocent lives lost and the hostages being held against their will in Gaza. And yet, there was also a part of me that felt anger for how we, the Jewish people, have responded. At the leaders of the world who have let fear and politics overshadow humanity. At the way Zionism is treated in the Diaspora – as a single, unquestionable idea, when in reality it stems from over seven distinct streams of thought.
This trip taught me that my Jewish identity isn’t simple. It’s messy, emotional, and full of contradictions. I saw ordinary people step up in extraordinary ways; a neighbour in Ofakim repairing a fence for a family that no longer lives, communities coming together to watch hostage exchanges despite unimaginable grief. I realised that Israel’s future isn’t just about the government or the army, nor is it defined by the number of rockets that fly over the border attempting to tear us apart. It’s not only about survival in the face of violence, it’s about what happens in between the headlines. It’s about the small acts of care, these moments of rebuilding. It’s about fixing the fence, clearing the rubble. It’s about ordinary people refusing to give up on the idea that all people including Jews have the right to live freely without fear of persecution.
As a young Jew living in Australia, I’ve seen how this war has reshaped the way we speak about our community. In a time when politics and elections divide us, we must remember that our Jewish identity is not defined by any government or party, it’s rooted in connection, responsibility, and care for one another. This is an inherently human issue, we must hold nuance. The grief is real and so is the hope that can exist between them. It’s okay to question our own community’s actions while still acknowledging the atrocities committed by Hamas. We need the courage to ask hard questions, to engage in uncomfortable conversations, the ones that make us angry or want to turn away. It’s in how we respond to those moments that our character is revealed.
As Diaspora Jews, our role is to sit in discomfort, remove barriers to dialogue, and build bridges, not just between people, but toward a future rooted in care and accountability. While our past shapes us, being Jewish also means imagining and creating what comes next. Our future depends on how we rebuild, not only the homes that have been destroyed, but the fabric of our communities, through honest conversation, our ability to hold complexity, to be critical when necessary, and to envision something better than the cycle we’re trapped in.
I am grateful to have gone on this trip when I did, to share it with people who have varying perspectives. We listened with open ears, engaged in critical thought, and were critical of our own actions. We can shape the kind of Jewish community we want here, in Australia. Throughout the AZYC, Australasian Zionist Youth Council, we are uniting, educating, and building a community that is rooted in compassion and responsibility. We create space for dialogue that honours the messy reality of what it means to be Jewish today because being Jewish has never been about agreeing on everything. It’s about caring enough to argue, to listen, and to act for a better future both in Israel and in the Diaspora. We all want a stronger, sacred Jewish experience. We can’t just hope for that to happen in Israel. We need to actively work on that here, in our own communities. We have a responsibility to shape the world we want to live in. One that doesn’t repeat mistakes but instead builds something more just, connected, and hopeful.
I left Israel with a sense of hope. Not because everything is perfect, but because even in the darkest moments, there are people clearing the rubble, fixing fences, and refusing to give up. That is the Israel I want to believe in, and that is the Jewish community I want to help build here in Australia.
Elisa Steinberg
My trip to Israel at the beginning of the year was genuinely eye-opening. What stood out most wasn’t just the beauty of the places we visited – from the quiet sand dunes of the Arava and the peacefulness of the Kineret, to the spirituality of Jerusalem and the energy of Tel Aviv – but the people I shared it with. I was surrounded by passionate young Jewish leaders from across different movements, each bringing a unique lens shaped by their politics, religious beliefs, and personal experiences – from Habonim Dror, Bnei Akiva, and Netzer, to AUJS, Hineni, and AZYC. The conversations we had, sometimes challenging and always meaningful, made me reflect more deeply on my own values and how I engage with others.
Not only were the conversations on the trip meaningful, but the trip itself left a deep impact on me. Having had the privilege of living in Israel in general and during my gap year, it’s always felt like a second home. But this time felt different – this was more than a sightseeing or volunteering experience, it was something much deeper, reinforced by our visit to the Otef Returning to Australia, where a cloud of antisemitism hangs heavily over our community, this trip reminded me why we simply can’t afford to stay silent. It reignited my sense of pride and responsibility, not only as someone who loves Israel, but as a young Jew in the Diaspora.
Hearing first hand stories of resilience, courage, and hope – from Assaf, a survivor and security guard at Nova, to the manager of Kibbutz Menara, who has spent over a year working tirelessly to rebuild and reunite his community, to the head of a Mechina in the Arava, and so many others – showed me that Israel is more than just a country. It’s a network of people, each doing what they can to support one another, to heal, and to move forward. That spirit of unity and responsibility left a lasting impression on me. It reminded me that even from afar, we in the Diaspora are part of that same network, whether it’s through advocacy, education, or simply standing proudly in our Jewish identity. It made me realise – what can I do to help?
Since returning, the trip has shaped my work with AUJS, through which I promote Jewish engagement things, inspiring initiatives like our Yom HaShoah event at the Melbourne Holocaust Museum. It has also helped shape my conviction in helping StandWithUs, a program that I do outside of my AUJS role. It reminded me why this work matters – helping Jewish students feel proud, connected, and empowered.
Jewish Youth is Stepping Up
So, what are we actually doing with all of this reflection, emotion, and hope? We’re taking action together.
Across movements, organisations, cities, and identities, young Jewish leaders are stepping up, not just with ideas, but with initiatives that respond to the needs of our community and the world around us. We’re working collaboratively, creating spaces that prioritise listening, learning, and leading with empathy. We’re building programs that don’t shy away from difficult conversations about Israel, identity, antisemitism, or activism but rather lean into them, creating opportunities for complexity to be embraced rather than feared.
We’re amplifying voices that haven’t always been heard. We’re centering care, resilience, and responsibility in everything we do. From running solidarity vigils, education forums, and cultural events, to empowering Jewish students to stand tall in their identity on campus and beyond. And most importantly, we’re not doing it alone. We’re holding each other accountable. We’re arguing, disagreeing, supporting, and building side by side. Because we know that the Jewish future in Israel and the Diaspora will be shaped by those willing to sit in discomfort, take responsibility, and work toward something better.
This is the kind of Jewish leadership we believe in. Not just reacting to the world but actively reshaping it.
The authors took part in a Young Leaders’ Mission Israel organised by the Zionist Federation of Australia (ZFA) and Jewish Agency for Israel (JAFI).
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