The arch at Caesarea

On my wall at home hangs a travel calendar that advertises Israel’s physical terrain as a “land of contrasts.” When I arrived in Israel and disembarked at Ben Gurion Airport in an Ambien-induced stupor, I slowly regained mental clarity, and in doing so, began to recognize the utter truthfulness of my calendar’s slogan.

Only in Israel can the flourishing oasis of Ein Gedi sprout from the desert only a few kilometers from the sweltering and dusty heat of the fortress Masada. Nowhere else can one drive by a flashy sign for Google’s Tel Aviv offices en route to the 2,000-year-old Roman ruins of Herod’s ancient leisure village, Caesarea. And, contrary to the American media’s use of the West Bank as fodder for primetime headlines, it appeared just as beautiful and peaceful as the rest of the country—a fact I observed during dinner in a vibrant vineyard in Gush Etzion.

The vivacity of Israel’s colorful and varied landscape parallels the strength of its national identity that its citizens embrace. Although young as a country, patriotism and national pride flow vigorously through Israelis and pervade the air. Mandatory military service forms a rallying point for a common identity, and after talking to several Israelis, I discovered that the military serves as much of a social function as it does a defensive purpose.

Aside from hearing about the military’s social benefits, I also witnessed how military service unifies all Israeli citizens. The army provides citizens with lasting tools of collaboration and communication, and at the same time helps them to mature as individuals. I noticed one particular example of this “coming of age” phenomenon when I was in Jerusalem. While gazing across the courtyard outside the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, my eyes fell upon a group of new soldiers being taken on a tour of the Old City as part of the introductory cultural experience for all soldiers.

A tan, slender Israeli soldier sat, legs crossed, with an Uzi across her lap, and behind her, another female soldier was braiding her hair. The juxtaposition of such adolescent innocence along with the sharp image of military authority caused me to do a double take. I was struck by this vignette of teenage blitheness that existed parallel to, and in harmony with, the serious nature of military service and Israeli defense. It also revealed the truth behind Israelis’ self-dubbed nickname, “sabras,” meaning resilient and leather-skinned on the outside, but compassionate and sweet on the inside—just like the cactus from which the nickname is derived.

In talking to various Israelis, I also learned much about the prevalent political sentiments. I heard the older generation’s perspective from Zvika, our gray-haired guide with squat legs complemented by frayed khakis above his dusty black loafers. Like many others his age, he expressed an almost gloomy resignation toward the current generation of Israeli and Palestinian leadership, believing that the current political impasse over a viable peace solution cannot be overcome.

I even got the chance to speak and interact with a few Palestinian teenagers on an Arab beach at the Dead Sea. Succumbing to stereotypical fears, I was at first reticent to respond to a shouted greeting from a Palestinian teenager. But when I told him I was from America, he replied, “Welcome!” Later, when I was looking for a place to wash my feet off, a Palestinian woman with sun-burnt, peeling skin showed me a fountain. These interactions only confirmed what an Israeli friend had told me earlier on the trip: Conflict stems primarily from disagreements among the Israeli and Palestinian leaders, and young, individual citizens don’t possess nearly the degree of distrust or animosity of their elder counterparts.

This discovery gave me great hope and the knowledge that, as young Jews, we have the ability to redesign the political map in Israel. Oftentimes, it is said that the largest reform movement in a country consists of the youth, and this was evident to me during my trip to Israel. Of course, a cynic would contend that a durable peace will always remain impossible and that our generation will eventually mature to realize the so-called realities of the situation.

Call me naïve (which I admit I am), but I hope that, as young Jews, we can attempt to see beyond the classification of Palestinians and Israelis as political and religious adversaries, and instead view each other as individual people with real interests, goals and dreams.

I can’t wait to return to this “land of contrasts”—a characterization I’ve discovered extends far beyond Israel’s physical landscape to encompass an incredible diversity of culture unified by a strong sense of national identity. And as youthful citizens of the world, we hold the keys to an exciting future for Israel and its relations with other peoples, an opportunity that we should grasp energetically and passionately.

Corey Metzman is a senior from Nashville, Tenn. He traveled to Israel in March 2008. He’s also a member of the JVibe Teen Advisory Board.