For today’s olim, aliyah is defined not by urgency, but by careful preparation, meaningful choices, and the desire to build a future in Israel
There is a familiar image of aliyah: the airport arrival, the flags, the music, the young family stepping off the plane into a waiting, cheering crowd.
It is an iconic moment. But the real story begins long before the wheels touch the tarmac.
For many North American Jews making aliyah today, the decision takes shape over time, through years of visits, school decisions, family conversations, professional planning, paperwork, some doubts, lots of excitement, and the slow realization that Israel has moved from being a place they love to a place where they want to build their future.
That is how it happened for Adi Czobel of Queens.
For Adi, the idea of aliyah became real after his gap year in Israel, where he attended Mechinat Rabin. After a year of living in Israel, he came back with more than good memories. He had experienced what it felt like to live there, to be part of the rhythm of the country, and to feel genuinely happy in that environment.
“I was so happy with how I felt in Israel and how much I enjoyed it,” he says. “That’s when I started to have a real conversation with my family about moving there.”
The decision did not happen immediately. Together with his family, Adi decided that the more practical path would be to return to America, earn his degree, and then make the move. Now, having just graduated from college, the timing feels right. “I can’t wait!” he says.
That kind of planning is exactly what Marc Rosenberg, Vice President of Diaspora Partnerships at Nefesh B’Nefesh, recommends, though he adds that every aliyah plan has its own story. Each person comes with his or her own timeline, practical questions, and set of concerns.
According to Rosenberg, this summer is expected to be a busy aliyah season, with more than 2,300 North American olim set to arrive. About 60 percent of North American olim typically come during June, July, and August, when school is out and families, students, and young professionals are already in transition. This year, Nefesh B’Nefesh is coordinating 47 cluster flights.
What makes the numbers striking is not only their scale but their timing. Over the past two years, Israel has lived through war, uncertainty, sirens, reserve duty, and deep national strain. Yet Rosenberg says interest in aliyah has not waned. Since the beginning of the recent war with Iran, nearly 900 aliyah files have been opened by Jewish North Americans.
For Rosenberg, the most compelling aliyah stories are not about what people are leaving behind, but about what they hope to build.
The larger story, he says, is not what is pushing people out of North America, but what is drawing them toward Israel: family, values, children, community, and belonging.
“The smiling people getting off the plane are thinking about their future,” Rosenberg says. “They’ve done their research, they’ve spent time here, they have family here. This is a decision they’ve thought about carefully.”
Without a doubt, aliyah has become much easier today than ever before. Aliyah today is supported by an infrastructure that simply did not exist generations ago. Through the partnership between Nefesh B’Nefesh, Israel’s Ministry of Aliyah and Integration, the Jewish Agency for Israel, Keren Kayemeth LeIsrael, and Jewish National Fund-USA, prospective olim have access to guidance, resources, and support at every stage of the journey.
But just as important is the community that has already paved the way. Nearly 100,000 North Americans have made aliyah through Nefesh B’Nefesh, meaning many newcomers arrive to find family members, friends, former classmates, and familiar faces already building lives in Israel. For many, that network transforms aliyah from a leap into the unknown into a natural next step.
For Adi, the most exciting part of aliyah is the chance to begin his adult life in Israel. He is looking forward to being with family, living in the Israeli sun, and becoming part of the community. He hopes to build a career, meet the right woman, and start a family in Israel.
“I’m hoping to get a job in cybersecurity,” he says, “and start an Israeli family and have the best life in the best country in the world.”
At the same time, he is realistic about the challenges. He will be on his own in a different country, paying his own bills, finding his own way, and taking on the responsibilities of adulthood.
Today’s olim are not arriving with unrealistic expectations. They know integration takes effort. But for many, the challenges are part of a larger decision to build a life of meaning and belonging.
When Adi imagines his first ordinary week as an oleh, he does not describe something dramatic. He imagines arriving in Israel, finding his bearings, settling into an apartment, and waking up in the morning to get coffee at a local shop. He imagines going to work, coming home, maybe going to the gym, and on Friday, going to the shuk, spending time with friends, listening to music, or going to the beach.
It is a simple picture, and that is exactly what makes it powerful. Because, sometimes, the deepest expression of coming home is not the arrival itself, but the ordinary, blessed routine that begins the morning after.
By Hadassah Bay
