“If I forget thee, Jerusalem
Let my right hand be forgotten”

These words, written in the book of Psalms, now resonate within me more than ever. I remember the first time I visited Jerusalem. I was 9 years old and hardly in touch with the 2000-year-old struggle to return to this city. However young and naïve I was, I felt something when I touched the Kotel’s ancient stones, and to this day I remember the contents of the first note I pushed into its cracks. And though the old city is still a large part of what I love about Jerusalem, I have come to know this place, as much as I could in three months, and have developed for it a more concrete love.

Not unfittingly, Jerusalem is often referred to as the most “American” city in Israel. English can be heard almost everywhere, American clothing and products can easily been purchased and one is almost always bound to run into a friend or relative from home. Initially, this “Americanization,” as some may call it, was disappointing. But after living here and having much time to consider the situation, I see something special in the internationality of Jerusalem. People from all over the world, especially young people, come here for a holiday, a summer, a year or a lifetime.

Back home in Indiana, it was hard for me to find people who shared the same love and passion for the Jewish homeland as I did. Never in my entire life have I been surrounded by so many young Americans like me, who care enough about this place to interrupt whatever path they have chosen to spend time here—learning, studying, traveling or volunteering. Jerusalem is, essentially, the meeting place for Jews from all over the world.

A few weeks ago, we were presented with the opportunity to attend a rally for missing soldiers from the Lebanon war. People from my program and countless other programs and schools came from all over the country to attend. I had only been to one rally before. In seventh grade, my classmates and I took a bus ride to Washington, D.C., for a rally in support of Israel. As we chanted, jumped around, danced and listened to speeches, I felt an overwhelming sense of unity. There we were, hundreds of thousands of strangers standing together and making public our support for the Jewish homeland.

Jump to now—I’m older and am living on my own in the place I had rallied for years ago. Rather than simply banding together for Israel in the U.S. capital, I’m now banding together with Israel in the Jewish capital.

We walked into the building and I immediately noticed that the majority of people were on long-term programs in Israel, such as Year Course. Initially, I’m disappointed that it’s not a more exclusively Israeli event. But as the people began to crowd in, I realized that this was why we were there—to come together, as foreigners, and learn about current Israeli issues.

During the rally, we listened to a number of speeches from prominent members of Israeli society, people working for the safe return of the soldiers, and friends and family of the imprisoned. At one point, Carnit Goldwasser, the wife of Ehud Goldwasser, one of the kidnapped soldiers, took the podium. As she approached the stage, the entire crowd stood in applause and solidarity.

I remember Carnit’s words, “I am not naïve…each night as I turn off my light I wonder, Does Udi (Ehud) have a light in his room?” I shivered at these words and could feel those around me shudder as well. She explained that in Israel, specifically in the army, there is a notion of “Kol Yisrael Chaverim,” which means, “All of Israel are friends.” Even with the violence and fear we are often faced with, we are all in this together. She left us with the thought, “If you all go back to your homes and think of how you can help [the missing soldiers], then I have done what I meant to do.”

The fact that this event took place in Jerusalem made it all the more meaningful. For so many years, the Jewish people were forced to rely on the leaders of our many countries and groups to protect us. Now, here I am, living in Jerusalem, rallying for the protection and return of those soldiers who protected us.

I will soon be leaving Jerusalem to embark on the “Israeli experience” component of my program. Though I’m excited to get to know new people and a new place, I know I’m not done with Jerusalem. There is so much more for me to uncover. And unlike many things in life, it does not loose its spark with time, but rather ignites and feeds the flame within. Now, after three months here, I can wholeheartedly write the words, “Oh, Jerusalem, I promise never to forget thee.”