More Than a Trip: A Lesson in Jewish Identity

When educational journeys do not go according to plan, unexpected opportunities sometimes emerge. That was certainly the case for our group of eighth grade students from Sinai Akiba Academy, whose anticipated trip to Israel was replaced by a journey through some of the most significant landmarks of Jewish and American history in Philadelphia and New York City.

While disappointment over not being in Israel was real, the experience quickly evolved into something deeper: an exploration of what it means to be a Jew in America.

Throughout the trip, students were challenged to consider questions at the heart of Jewish identity: Who are we as American Jews? What do we believe in? What traditions, values and connections will we choose to carry forward as we grow into adulthood?

The journey began at Mikveh Israel in Philadelphia, one of the oldest synagogues in America and still a thriving congregation today. Standing in a place where generations of Jews sought freedom, refuge and opportunity, students learned about the choices faced by Jewish immigrants who arrived on American shores. Some chose assimilation, hoping to blend seamlessly into American society. Many others found ways to embrace their new country while maintaining the traditions and values that had sustained the Jewish people for centuries.

The group continued to New York City, where a visit to Ellis Island brought those stories even closer to home. Looking out toward the Statue of Liberty, students reflected on the experiences of countless immigrants, including many of their own ancestors who arrived in America seeking opportunity and the freedom to practice their faith.

There they encountered the words of Jewish poet Emma Lazarus, whose inscription transformed the Statue of Liberty into a universal symbol of hope:

“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.”

For generations of Jewish immigrants, those words represented not simply an invitation to a new country but the promise of religious freedom and possibility.

The themes of identity and belonging continued throughout Shabbat in Manhattan. During a sermon at Park Avenue Synagogue, Rabbi Elliot Cosgrove spoke about standing up for what we care about and refusing to leave our identities at the door when we enter public life.

The message resonated deeply because it echoed the questions we had been asking students throughout the trip. For many, these questions were not distant history. Their grandparents — and for some, even their parents — had lived them firsthand, forced to leave behind homes, communities and everything familiar in pursuit of freedom and security. We asked our students to imagine themselves in that moment: If you had to flee your home, what would you take with you? What values, traditions and beliefs would you cling to? What part of your identity would you refuse to surrender? What do you care about deeply enough to carry across borders, across generations? And ultimately: What do you stand for?

As students began hearing about New York City’s Israel Day Parade, more and more of them started asking whether we were going.

Initially, the answer was no.

The responsibility for student safety weighed heavily on us as trip leaders, and caution seemed the prudent choice. Yet over the course of Shabbat, we found ourselves returning again and again to the themes that had defined the journey: identity, courage, belonging and the willingness to stand publicly for what one believes.

The students wanted to attend because it mattered to them. They wanted to stand with their people. They wanted to be counted.

And here we were, in New York City, on the very day it was happening.

We decided to proceed cautiously.  Since we were already headed to Midtown Manhattan for a visit to the Empire State Building, we would simply see what it felt like to be there.

What we encountered was extraordinary.

As we walked through the city, we saw delegations arriving from every direction; synagogues, schools, youth groups and yeshivot from across the country. We also saw an extraordinary security presence. Streets were closed and barricaded. Officers were everywhere. It was clear that every precaution had been taken.

One challenge remained: the only way to get close to the heart of the event was to march, and participating groups had registered long before.

Then something unexpected happened.

Whether by luck or divine intervention, we found ourselves standing near a security checkpoint for marchers.  We caught the attention of a security official who asked a simple question: “How can I make your day better?”

We explained who we were and where we had come from. After carefully vetting us, he smiled and said, “Let’s do a mitzvah and get you in.”

And just like that, our students walked through the checkpoint singing “Am Yisrael Chai” at the top of their lungs.

For those of us accompanying them, it was a moment we will never forget.

We watched our students stand proudly as Jews. We watched them surrounded by tens of thousands of people connected by a shared history, a shared hope and a shared connection to Israel. Most importantly, we watched them realize that they were part of something much larger than themselves.

Although scheduling commitments prevented us from staying long enough to officially march in the parade, we stood together among thousands of Jews and supporters of Israel, making our voices heard and expressing our connection to the Jewish people and the Jewish homeland.

For many students, the experience was transformative.

“I’ve never felt anything like this before in my life,” one student said.

“I’ve never felt part of something so special,” said another.

Those comments captured the significance of the day better than any prepared lesson ever could.

Experiences like these cannot be fully taught in a classroom. They must be lived.

What began as an alternative to a trip to Israel became something profoundly meaningful in its own right: a journey into history, identity, community and belonging. For a group of young Jews standing on the threshold of high school, it offered a powerful reminder that Jewish identity is not simply inherited. It is discovered, embraced, and ultimately lived.

Long after the museums, landmarks and photographs fade from memory, we believe our students will remember how they felt that day: standing proudly as Jews, connected to their history, their people and one another.

And for those of us who witnessed it, that memory will endure for years to come.

Am Yisrael Chai!

Avi Taff is the Sinai Akiba Academy School rabbi and an associate rabbi at Sinai Temple in Los Angeles