I walked into the Beit Midrash ready to learn about Israel’s history the same way I had at my Jewish day school for the past four years. The counselor started with a simple question: "Where are you from?"

One by one, we recited the street addresses of our hometowns. But as the lesson unfolded, we were proven wrong. Homes can be built anywhere, but as Jewish people, our roots trace back to one place: Eretz Yisrael.

At Kallah, Israel was everywhere. It was in the music we sang, the prayers we recited, the people we grew to love, the texts we studied under the tree, the heavy questions we dared to ask, and the art covering the walls. Throughout the summer, Kallah taught us that Israel isn't just a location on a map; it is inside us. For weeks, we built a version of Israel out of ideas, words, and shared passion.

Then, exactly 20 days after Kallah ended, my plane landed.

Suddenly, Israel wasn’t an abstract concept in a discussion prompt anymore. It was loud, beautiful, chaotic, and my real-world home for the next three months.

For as long as I can remember, I was taught to defend Israel. At school and around family dinner tables, I was handed arguments and trained to stand up for a country thousands of miles away. I cared about Israel because I was told it belonged to me, but if I’m being honest, I was defending an abstract idea, not a living reality.

Kallah showed me why it was mine—and Alexander Muss High School in Israel made it mine.

I wouldn't trade one experience for the other. Kallah gave me the language, but Israel gave me the physical ground. Stepping into Israel after Kallah felt like walking directly into the pages of a textbook I had just spent weeks analyzing. Kallah gave me the courage to ask the hard questions, but actually living here gave me the space to answer them for myself.

I will eventually return home with unforgettable memories, but more than that, I’ll return with an identity rooted in real earth—and a connection to Israel that I finally, truly understand.