Message from Outgoing USY President

Shabbat Shalom,

My name is Mitchell Sorkin and last summer I participated in Ramah Seminar, a 7 week journey through Poland and Israel that would change me in ways I couldn’t have anticipated. It started in Poland—a land that holds the ghosts of our people’s past. I stood before gas chambers, mass graves, and crematoriums. No photograph, no textbook, no conversation could have ever prepared me for how it would feel being there.

And yet, amid that horror, something else stirred within me: resolve. A deep, unshakable understanding of how essential Israel is—not just as a place of refuge, but as a home. A home our ancestors dreamed of, prayed for, and in so many cases, never lived to see.

One moment in particular will stay with me forever. We visited the “Great Synagogue” in Krasnik, built in the 1600s. The Nazis had desecrated it, using it as a labor camp during the war. Yet the building still stands, and our guide pointed out a mural on the wall. It depicted Jerusalem: the Old City, the Temple Mount, date palms, what is the essence of Eretz Yisrael. And I realized—Jews had stood there for generations, facing that mural as they prayed. They dreamt of returning to Zion. But for almost all of them, that dream had died with them in Poland. That realization hit me hard: unlike them, I would go to Israel. I would see Jerusalem. And so, as I boarded a plane in Warsaw for Tel Aviv, I carried their longing with me.

Israel was just as beautiful and vibrant as I remembered. I reunited with friends, explored the natural wonders of the North, wandered the streets of Jerusalem, and enjoyed some amazing food. But this trip wasn’t just about sightseeing. It was about hearing voices that made this moment in Jewish history feel heartbreakingly real.

We heard from Rachel Goldberg, whose son Hersh was at the time being held hostage by Hamas. Her words weren’t just moving—they made the struggle personal. We heard from Colonel Richard Kemp, a non-Jew and staunch ally of Israel. We met a survivor of the Nova festival massacre, whose life was saved by a Bedouin Muslim named Younis, whose actions make him a modern-day righteous among the nations. And we heard from Jacqui and Yaron Vital, whose daughter Adi was murdered in her home on October 7th. Their grief became our grief.

While on the trip, we heard of the targeted killings of Fuad Shukr and Ismail Haniyeh. While it was a moment of military significance, it also brought heightened alert. Our night in Bedouin tents and a sunrise hike to Masada were canceled due to security concerns. Throughout the trip we were constantly reminded where the nearest bomb shelter was. Thankfully, we never had to use them—but the reminder was ever-present. The journey back to the states was filled with delays and changes as we tried leaving a situation that seemed to be getting more dangerous by the day.

And yet—I wouldn’t trade this experience for anything. This past summer, I walked the path from Auschwitz to Zion. I stood in the ruins of our past and walked in the streets of our present. We are living in difficult times. But we are also living in miraculous ones. The Jews of Krasnik prayed to return to Zion. Let us never forget how lucky we are—not only to visit Israel but to stand with her, speak for her, and support her, so that we can illuminate a path toward a future our ancestors only dreamed of.

I would like to thank Morah Maureen, Rabbi Weintraub and the CBI Scholarship Committee for making my trip possible.