A volunteering mission and the profound joy of breathing fully as a Jew
From Tel Aviv and Jerusalem to the Golan Heights - Michelle Rosenberg reflects on a trip to Israel with her daughters
Last week’s volunteering mission wasn’t my first rodeo with Magen David Adom. I fell in love with the charity after a fundraising challenge in 2017. Seven of us, trekking across the country to raise money for a medi-cycle for Israel’s national medical emergency, ambulance, and blood service. Chronically unfit, it was a miracle I didn’t need their services after the first 30km.
A volunteer ambulance shift with the country’s primary first responder organisation was my ‘Eureka’ moment; I saw first hand, in real time, lights flashing, dodging traffic and running up stairs alongside our paramedic Uriel to come to the aid of an elderly woman in Jerusalem, the extraordinary role MDA plays across every cross-section of Israeli society.
Fast forward to January 2026, past two further treks, (leading one of them whilst working for MDA), money raised for one ambulance and another for a mobile intensive unit; fierce, life-long friendships made, including Allah, a Druze medic in Rahat, a literal gentle giant of a man who insisted that I eat and drink at their station ALL THE TIME, and I was en route to Ben Gurion, passing the baton to my two daughters on a trip with MDA and Birthright.
For the girls, it was a no-brainer; mum was paying for seven days in Israel. In hindsight, hurling three Rosenberg women onto an unsuspecting group of 55 others, Jews and non-Jews alike, from all corners of the UK, aged between 18 and 79, was a little unfair. (As was my having to share a room, my toiletries, new socks, phone data and bank account with two teenagers, but I digress).
The itinerary was a jam-packed blur of early mornings, coach trips, connections, reflections and Aroma stops, all under the leadership of superb tour guide, 33-year old IDF reservist Noam.
Every activity for the group, from giving blood and packing medical supplies at Magen David Adom’s national blood services centre, tomato picking and volunteering on a small community supported agriculture farm near the Golan Heights, brought us closer together as a group, renewed our powerful connections with Israel and demonstrated its incredible complexity, beauty, community and challenges.
Personal highlights would be different for each of us – again reflecting the variety of experiences, heritage and history we all bring to Israel and the communities that exist within it.
Mine were hearing from Fadi, MDA’s first Arab Muslim volunteer from East Jerusalem, inspired to join the charity after his father suffered a heart attack and was saved by two Jewish MDA volunteers. That moment proved a seismic shift for Fadi; ever since, he’s encouraged hundreds more people from his community to volunteer too, significantly increasing Arab representation within MDA.
Then reuniting with old friend chef Avishay for a group cooking session and hearing how his Tel Aviv workshop is used to support those affected by post October 7th trauma; volunteering on a small community supported agriculture farm near the Golan Heights; meeting Druze paramedics in Majdal Shams and listening in tears as one father recounted the horrific experience of arriving first on the scene to discover his young daughter was amongst those killed by the rocket attacks from Lebanon on 27 July 2024.
Being part of a huge group of Israeli, Argentinian and British volunteers making 4,000 schnitzel sandwiches to be delivered to IDF soldiers on the frontline; standing at the Kotel in the pouring rain alongside my daughters, feeling the cool touch of the Jerusalem stones and knowing I was truly home.
I’ve always flirted with the idea of making aliyah; every single visit to Israel, after just a few hours, I feel more myself, more alive, vital, authentic. But that’s not what was different. This time I felt like I was fully immersing myself into the technicolour, surround-sound tapestry of the country, becoming one of its many silken threads.
One of our group described herself as an October 8th Jew – highlighting the impact of Black Shabbat on her newly strengthened connections to both her Judaism and Scottish Jewish community. Another shared how he no longer felt like a British Jew, simply a proud Jew living in Britain.
I’m a third generation Jewish refugee to this country and never, ever did I consider, not for one second, that I would disassociate so fully from it. We are a wandering people and history is anything but unpredictable. As Jews our position, inevitably, becomes untenable, as we have experienced all too clearly, and ever increasingly, in the last two years.
This last week in Israel with my children, physically exhaling in relief upon landing in our ancestral home; releasing the tension I hold in my bones from shrinking my Jewishness in the UK; the joy in the ability to breathe freely and fully as a Jew, without fear of abuse or hate; the beauty of Shabbat as an integral, natural part of people’s lives, the connection to the land, has been a roaring, overwhelming, and undeniably defining moment for me.
My girls, who continue to experience anti-Semitism on their respective campuses, (my youngest was recently labelled a Zionist baby-killer), are both starting to weave their own long-term connections to Israel.
Our youngest has applied for the MDA volunteer programme, whilst our eldest is heading back for a summer internship in Tel Aviv. Both see their future in Israel. And I refuse to live in the UK without them. All that’s left is to break it gently to Mr. Rosenberg.
As Noam said, “To see Jews around the diaspora come together for a mission, to come, to donate, to volunteer for the Israeli people has meant a lot. Bringing non-Jews to Israel and showing them how beautiful it is, how kind and how warm the people of Israel are, how they just want to have a normal life. Jews in Israel and the diaspora should cooperate more – we need to strengthen our connection – together.”
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