This is a modern evil with very deep roots.
by Rich Robinson | September 23 2024
On March 4 of this year, Jewish author Franklin Foer wrote, “Anti-Semitism on the right and the left threatens to bring to a close an unprecedented period of safety and prosperity for Jewish Americans—and demolish the liberal order they helped establish.”1 His article, published in The Atlantic, was titled “The Golden Age of American Jews Is Ending.”
Many would agree that we have passed the “Golden Age” of Jewish acceptance and security that American Jews experienced from roughly the 1960s until recently, in which many Jews believed that we had “finally” arrived at a relatively post-antisemitism era.
But others would say the exponential rise in antisemitism only shows that Jews will never be safe. As we have explained to our Gentile-Christian friends, this is not an easy time to be Jewish. Antisemitism has increased dramatically in the last few years, not only since October 7 in Israel. The incidents are seared in our memories: Jews in France who were murdered, thrown off balconies; the Tree of Life Synagogue massacre in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania; the intimidation of Jewish students on campuses.
In a New York Times opinion piece dated May 9, 2024, David French reported some things that weren’t opinions: “This year, the Anti-Defamation League reported a 140 percent increase in antisemitic incidents in 2023 compared with 2022—and 2022 was already a record year. The crisis on college campuses was particularly acute. According to the ADL, the number of antisemitic incidents on campus tripled in 2023.”2
This is a modern evil with very deep roots. Taking a look at those roots can help us better understand and identify the tree we’re now standing under.
The history of antisemitism goes back centuries, if not thousands of years. It is not easy to summarize and often not easy to hear. Those who seek to learn about this history would do well to take the advice of Bette Davis in one of her films: “Fasten your seat belts. It’s going to be a bumpy night!”
And yet, it’s very important for us to do the hard work of knowing and understanding the history for at least three reasons.
First, unless we understand the past, we are ill-equipped to deal with current and future manifestations of antisemitism.
Second, learning the history allows us to keep alive the memory of the victims of antisemitism—an important Jewish value.
Third, and maybe most foundation of all, there is a spiritual component to antisemitism. Not everyone is prepared to accept that, but for those who do, we can trace antisemitism back to the Torah, Genesis 12:1–3:
Now the LORD said to Abram, “Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you. And I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and him who dishonors you I will curse, and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.”
These are the words that God said to Abraham when he first left Mesopotamia for the land of Israel. They are repeated (with variations) to Abraham’s descendants Isaac and Jacob, which means that they apply to the Jewish people who are descended from exactly those three, hence the reference in Jewish liturgy to “the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.”
This means that those who curse the Jewish people—which usually happens through antisemitic actions, as well as verbally—are interfering with God’s promise to bless the entire world through the Jews. So, the common human inclination to oppose God often expresses itself in hatred of God’s chosen people.
Again, not everyone reading this will accept the biblical viewpoint. For those who do, though, it underlines that there is a spiritual rationale behind antisemitism. Or perhaps it is an “irrationale,” to coin a word, for it has been said that ultimately, antisemitism is irrational. As we’ll see, this lens can help us to understand many parts of the Bible and also world history.
The history of antisemitism begins with the seminal event in Jewish history, the Exodus from Egypt. The story is rehearsed every year at the Passover Seder. Through narrative and recitation, we are reminded that Pharaoh tried to enfeeble the Jewish people by enslaving them. Passover, of course, commemorates God’s deliverance.
This first instance of national antisemitism—that is, with the machinery of an entire state behind it—is reported in this way:
[Pharaoh] said to his people, “Behold, the people of Israel are too many and too mighty for us. Come, let us deal shrewdly with them, lest they multiply, and, if war breaks out, they join our enemies and fight against us and escape from the land.” (Exodus 1:9–10)
But rather than seeing the Israelites as a blessing (Genesis 12:1–3), the Pharaoh fearfully saw them as a potential threat.
Egyptian slavery was not at first genocide. It began as an attempt to weaken and render useless an entire people by taking away their independence and reducing their numbers through overwork and exhaustion.
However, genocide—which can be defined as “intentional destruction of a national, ethnic, racial, or religious group, in whole or in part”4— begins to enter the picture a few verses later:
Then the king of Egypt said to the Hebrew midwives, one of whom was named Shiphrah and the other Puah, “When you serve as midwife to the Hebrew women and see them on the birthstool, if it is a son, you shall kill him, but if it is a daughter, she shall live.” (Exodus 1:15–16)
Fortunately, we read that the midwives simply disobeyed Pharaoh, lied to cover their actions, and, as a result, “God dealt well with the midwives. And the people multiplied and grew very strong” (Exodus 1:20).
Pharaoh, however, was not done with genocidal impulses: “Then Pharaoh commanded all his people, ‘Every son that is born to the Hebrews you shall cast into the Nile, but you shall let every daughter live’” (Exodus 1:22).
If you can’t get them coming out of the gate, so to speak, murder them on the pathway instead. The result of this order, however, was the raising up of Moses and the eventual deliverance of the Jewish nation.
So goes the story of the first recorded antisemitic acts in history.
Many centuries later, the book of Esther narrates another attempt at genocide. Haman, a wicked Persian courtier, out of apparent vindictiveness toward one particular Jew, Mordechai, tries to exterminate the entire Jewish people.
Haman’s ire is raised toward Mordechai because he refuses to bow to him. But that irritation quickly turns into a murderous plot against all of Mordechai’s people. (This is what is meant when it is said that antisemitism is irrational.) And so, Haman complains to King Ahasuerus:
There is a certain people scattered abroad and dispersed among the peoples in all the provinces of your kingdom. Their laws are different from those of every other people, and they do not keep the king’s laws, so that it is not to the king’s profit to tolerate them. If it please the king, let it be decreed that they be destroyed, and I will pay 10,000 talents of silver into the hands of those who have charge of the king’s business, that they may put it into the king’s treasuries.
On the one hand, Haman’s words to the king exhibit the epitome of cultural intolerance: these people are different. But on the other, as we have pointed out, his hatred has a frighteningly irrational quality, jumping from annoyance with one person to genocidal mania against a very large and diverse community.
When his plot is foiled and he is hoisted by his own petard (cf. Psalm 35:7–8), the annual holiday of Purim is instituted to commemorate God’s deliverance of the Jewish people once again.
More could be said about antisemitism in the Jewish Bible, but these are the two most salient examples. The thing to note is that the defeat of antisemitic actions in both Exodus and Esther comes to show us that God’s promises to the Jewish people remain intact. For if Pharaoh and Haman had their way, there would no longer be Jews, there would be no further blessing to the world (see Genesis 12:1–3 above), and there would be no person named Jesus born.
While the Jewish Bible stands against antisemitism through its narratives of promise and deliverance, many Jewish people think that the New Testament is the source of Christian antisemitism and the root of Christian animosity toward Jews. Given the prevalence of Christian antisemitism in history (as we will see), along with the wording of certain passages in the New Testament, it’s understandable that many have come to that conclusion.
In our view, it is the misunderstanding and misuse of the New Testament that is to blame. In short, the New Testament was written by Jewish authors for a largely Jewish audience. So, those who have used it as an excuse for antisemitism have entirely warped its true meaning and purpose. Since that is such a large topic, we refer you to our other article on this issue: “Is the New Testament Jewish?”
In our review of the history of antisemitism, we’ll move on to antisemitism in the first centuries of this era.
While the first followers of Jesus were all Jews, the message of salvation through Jesus was soon offered to non-Jews as well. Since there are more non-Jews than Jews in the world, it was not long before the majority of followers of Jesus were Gentile. Unfortunately, what we find is that in the first few centuries after the time of Jesus, anti-Jewish sentiment became prominent among certain non-Jewish church leaders, commonly referred to as the “church fathers.”
Sometimes, the attitudes of these early church leaders were called “anti-Jewish” rather than “antisemitic.” Remarks against the Jews have been said to be more along religious than ethnic lines and more rhetorical than involving actual harmful actions—though some advocated even for those. Still, the rhetoric could be quite strong.
One of the most well-known examples of anti-Jewishness (or anti-Judaism) is John Chrysostom, who lived in the fourth century. He wrote a collection of eight sermons called “Against the Jews” (or “Against the Judaizing Christians”).
Here is the background: It seems that ordinary church people were actually well disposed toward their Jewish neighbors. They even joined them for the Jewish holidays and synagogue services! Some scholars have called this phenomenon of love for Jewish people “philosemitism.” Chrysostom’s response to the behavior of his congregants is harsh. As summarized by Peter Gorday, for Chrysostom:
The event of Christ and the New Covenant for the Gentiles have divested the Jews as a people of any special standing before God. But finally it is the unbelief of the Jews and their rejection of Christ that constitute their supreme offense; for these there is no forgiveness, only the hope that God in his providential mercy will one day move their hearts to conversion.
Thus Chrysostom finds consistent denunciation of the Jews in chapters 2, 3, 4 and 9–11 of Romans, as he senses in Paul’s polemic a fundamental critique of the privileges and prerogatives of Judaism. [A misreading of Paul: see above on “Antisemitism in the New Testament?”]
This perspective on the Jews is held consistently throughout Chrysostom’s writings, and down to the present day has been one of his best known and most ignominious characteristics. He frequently polemicized against “Judaizing” and freely encouraged repressive measures against the synagogues.5
While Chrysostom went as far as to advocate for physical violence against Jewish people, the famous fifth-century church father Augustine forbade it. In his view, the Jewish people were meant to be preserved in a state of debasement as a “witness” to the reality of the gospel. That is not exactly pro-Jewish either, but some have thought that Augustine’s viewpoint—and his viewpoint prevailed on many matters—ended up saving Jewish lives.
But why were so many of the church fathers anti-Jewish in the first place? The reasons are many. Like Chrysostom, some could not fathom the flock under their care participating with their Jewish neighbors in holidays and worship (Were they going to convert to Judaism? Leave the church?). Flustered over this course of events, they lashed out. In other cases, these non-Jewish church leaders were trying to figure out the place of the Hebrew Bible in their faith. Influenced by current modes of philosophical thought, some of them rejected the plain meaning of the Hebrew text in favor of allegorizing it, thereby opening the door for them to say that the Jews failed to understand the “true” meaning of the text and so were responsible for reading it wrongly.
We would point out that this is something that the apostle Paul expressly warned against in his letter to the Romans. In what is sometimes known as his “parable of the olive tree,” Paul wrote:
Do not be arrogant toward the branches [Jewish people]. If you are, remember it is not you who support the root, but the root that supports you. Then you will say, “Branches were broken off so that I might be grafted in.” That is true. They were broken off because of their unbelief, but you stand fast through faith. So do not become proud, but fear. For if God did not spare the natural branches, neither will he spare you. (Romans 11:18–20)
Sadly, Paul’s warning fell on deaf—or misunderstanding—ears, as we see as we continue to look into the history of antisemitism in medieval times.
In this period, we now move from the (mostly) verbal to the physical. Here is where we see not only physical violence against Jews but also the rise of numerous pernicious accusations leveled against Jews, many of which remain to this day.
The Crusades were not initiated as antisemitic acts; they were meant to reclaim what was then called the “Holy Land” from Muslims. But the result was not just anti-Muslim; it was also antisemitic.
Pope Urban II’s call for crusaders was met by numerous local Christians from throughout Europe stepping up to the plate. As crusaders made their way from Europe to the Holy Land, they often decided to massacre Jews along the way. There were four crusades, of which the first two are especially noteworthy. In the First Crusade (1095–1099), all the Jews in Jerusalem were killed. In the Second Crusade (1147–1149), a great many Jews in the Rhineland were massacred.
In England in 1144, the Jews of Norwich were falsely accused of ritual murder after a boy, William of Norwich, was found dead in the woods with stab wounds. By the fourteenth century, ritual murder accusations turned into the accusation that Jews used “Christian” blood to make matzah. This accusation—the “blood libel”—has never died. It was repeated in Soviet-era material and continues to be promulgated in parts of the Muslim world. It finds additional echoes today in contemporary accusations that Israelis poison Palestinian wells and deliberately murder Palestinian children.
An antisemitic flier in Kyiv, 1910: “Christians, take care of your children!!! It will be Jewish Passover on March 17.”
Even America has not been immune. In the early twentieth century, in a New York town near the Canadian border, the blood accusation surfaced and threw Jewish life into disarray. This story is recounted in a book by Edward Berenson, The Accusation: Blood Libel in an American Town (New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 2019).
In the Middle Ages, Jews were accused of stabbing the “host,” the wafer used during Catholic mass. They were supposedly re-enacting the crucifixion of Christ.
Expelled from several countries, Jews became a people without a homeland. Jews were expelled from England in 1290 and from Spain in 1492—the latter on the Ninth of Av, likely deliberately chosen as the date Jews commemorated the destruction of the Temple.
From AD 1348–1350, what we now know to be the bubonic plague was blamed on Jews. In “retaliation,” Jews were burned to death.
In medieval Spain and Portugal, Jews often converted to Catholicism under pain of death but secretly continued to practice the Jewish faith. They were variously known as crypto-Jews, anusim or marranos.6 The Inquisition was established in order to ferret out the “secret believers” through torture and other means.
In the Protestant world, the antisemitism of Martin Luther was very obvious and influential. Luther is known to have written some horrific things regarding Jews, particularly in his pamphlet, On the Jews and Their Lies.
There is a theory that Luther was favorable toward Jewish people initially in the hopes that they would embrace faith in Christ, and only later, when that failed to materialize, did he change his attitude. More recently, scholarship sees much more continuity in Luther’s antisemitic attitudes over the years, since, for one thing, he was a product of his time. But he went further than most in his pamphlets with “suggestions” for how Jews should be treated.
Lutheran churches have since explicitly repudiated Luther’s antisemitism, but for many Jewish people, his legacy remains.
Here, we single out several key items. It is in these examples from the nineteenth and twentieth centuries that we see antisemitism shift from being religious to being racial (with religion still often included).
In an era when science allegedly proved the superiority of some “races” over others, Jews began to be considered an inferior race. Eventually, in Nazi Germany, Jews were considered to have an unchangeable nature that required eradication from the earth. Therefore, for those steeped in racial thinking, assimilating or converting did not remove the Jews’ “essential” nature. This chilling variety of antisemitism was aided by the alleged science of the day, though it was clearly also an outgrowth of earlier types.
Alfred Dreyfus was wrongly convicted of treason in 1894. Being Jewish, he was a convenient scapegoat in place of the real perpetrator. He was sent into exile on Devil’s Island near the coast of South America in 1895. Not until 1906 was he finally exonerated.
The “Dreyfus Affair” bitterly divided the French public. There exists a poignant collection of his letters to his wife written during his years of exile. Famously, writer Émile Zola came to Dreyfus’ defense with his passionate newspaper piece, “J’accuse!”
What was shocking about the entire affair was that Jews thought they had become Frenchmen; their Judaism, if they had any, was a private affair. As it turned out, the nation that gave rise to Jewish emancipation turned out to be more than capable of turning against its Jews.
While the Dreyfus Affair came as a shock to French Jews, antisemitism was expected in places such as Russia. Periodically, non-Jewish Russians would sweep through a shtetl and massacre the inhabitants, sometimes because Jews were the scapegoat for societal problems, and sometimes, “just because.”
In 1903, a noted pogrom took place in Kishinev, Moldova, but which also reverberated around the Jewish world. Then a year later, a musical piece by Herman S. Shapiro was published in New York, titled “Kishinever shekhita, elegie” [Kishinev Massacre Elegy], complete with a drawing of the massacre on the cover of the sheet music.
“Kishinever shekhita, elegie” [Kishinev Massacre Elegy]
This booklet purported to reveal a Jewish plot for world domination. Though it was exposed as a forgery not many years after its publication, it continued to be reprinted and advocated for by the likes of Henry Ford, a noted American antisemite (yes, of Ford Motor Company fame). The Protocols and similar myths of Jewish world control have never ceased being circulated. In fact, they influenced Hamas’ original charter.
The recent book Jewish Space Lasers7 chronicles the old canard that the Rothschilds, a Jewish financial family control the world, and are responsible for many of its ills, including wars (many, many wars), COVID-19, and more. George Soros has recently become the “Rothschild du jour,” so to speak, and is now also being held accountable for a myriad of evils.
Deserving of being treated separately, the Holocaust saw one-third of all Jews destroyed in Europe, about six million. German antisemitism began with restrictions on Jews regarding employment and admission to institutions and then moved through Kristallnacht (the Night of Broken Glass, in which synagogues and homes were destroyed throughout Germany). This eventually culminated in the shipping of Jews in tightly packed cattle cars to their deaths by gassing in the infamous Nazi death camps.
Though Zionism—the movement for Jews to establish their own state in order to survive and flourish—originated in the nineteenth century, the traumatization brought on by the Holocaust catalyzed the creation of the modern State of Israel.
As said at the beginning of this article, recent years have seen an unprecedented resurgence in antisemitism in the form of aggressive anti-Zionist sentiment, intimidation, murder, Holocaust denial, and toxic campus environments. The Hamas attack of October 7, 2023, and the ensuing war have only exacerbated the situation further.
We could explore the “New Antisemitism” through several lenses, but one such lens involves understanding that antisemitism is not localized within a single political or religious group. It can be found on the political right and the political left and in groups or individuals of various religious (or non-religious) ideologies.
Specifically, some examples of New Antisemitism include:
“Anti-Zionism,” wrote the late Lord Jonathan Sacks, former chief rabbi of Great Britain, “is the new anti-Semitism.” Zionism refers simply to the belief in an autonomous Jewish homeland. It has come under attack as the State of Israel has been equated with (white) colonialism and apartheid.
There is certainly a place for disagreement with Israeli policies or any particular government in power. Jews themselves have vigorous debates on such things. And indeed, it is also debated when criticism of Israel crosses over into antisemitism. What defines anti-Zionism as an ideology is that it denies Israel the right to exist as a Jewish state, making opposition to Israel’s very existence an attack on the Jewish people.
France has had several high-profile instances of Jews being murdered in cold blood—some of whom were even Holocaust survivors. In the US, the Pittsburgh synagogue shooting of 2018 horrified the nation. The wanton massacre of Israelis—the most killed at any single time since the Holocaust—by Hamas on October 7, 2023, traumatized Israel and horrified Jewish communities around the world.
The enemies of the Jewish people continue to deny that the Holocaust ever happened, in spite of the thousands of testimonies of survivors that have been compiled, not to mention other evidence. Notably, current Special U.S. Envoy to Monitor and Combat Antisemitism Deborah E. Lipstadt won a libel suit against Holocaust denier David Irving in the UK.
Once relatively safe spaces for Jewish students, American campuses are now hotspots of intimidation, anti-Israel movements, and antisemitism at a level not previously seen. In the early twentieth century, Jews were often denied admission to universities; hence, not many were present on campuses to experience antisemitism. Now, with Jews free to attend any university or college, many are finding toxic environments on campuses.
For resources on the history of antisemitism, see the end of this article.
Antisemitism never dies, though like some places that are susceptible to seasonal wildfires, it may die down for a time. It is rooted in an ancient hatred and stands against God’s intentions for the Jewish people. It is simply evil, and even irrational.
For that very reason, we must all stand with Jewish people and against antisemitism wherever and whenever we see it. If you need some ideas on how to do that, we have outlined nine ways that we can all fight antisemitism. Non-Jewish readers of this article may wonder if it’s OK for them to join the fight. We can tell you that your Jewish friends will be glad for your support!
David Baddiel, Jews Don’t Count: How Identity Politics Failed One Particular Identity (London: TLS Books, 2021).
Edward Berenson, The Accusation: Blood Libel in an American Town (New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 2019).
David L. Bernstein, Woke Antisemitism: How a Progressive Ideology Harms Jews (New York: Wicked Son, 2022).
Hugo Bettauer, The City without Jews: The Day after Tomorrow, trans. Petar Skunca (2015).
James Carroll, Constantine’s Sword: The Church and the Jews (Boston: Mariner Books, 2001).
Diana Fersko, We Need to Talk About Antisemitism (New York: Seal Press, 2023).
Jonathan Greenblatt, It Could Happen Here (Boston: Mariner Books, 2022).
Peter Hayes, Why?: Explaining the Holocaust (New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 2017).
Sinclair Lewis, It Can’t Happen Here. (New York: Penguin [Signet Classics], 2014).
Eric Lichtblau, The Nazis Next Door: How America Became a Safe Haven for Hitler’s Men (New York: Mariner Books, 2015).
Deborah E. Lipstadt, Antisemitism: Here and Now (New York: Schocken Books, 2019).
Mike Rothschild, Jewish Space Lasers: the Rothschilds and 200 Years of Conspiracy Theories (Brooklyn: Melville House, 2023).
Marc Weitzmann, Hate: The Rising Tide of Anti-Semitism in France (and What It Means for Us) (New York: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2019).
1. Franklin Foer, “The Golden Age of American Jews Is Ending,” The Atlantic, March 4, 2004.
2. David French, “Paging Senator Schumer…,” New York Times, May 9, 2024. Online
3. From the title of the book Antisemitism: The Oldest Hatred by John Mann (Bloomsbury, 2015). The title is sometimes used elsewhere, e.g., “Ambassador Lipstadt’s Remarks from the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum’s National Commemoration of the Days of Remembrance.”
4. Wikipedia, “Genocide,” last edited September 24, 2023, 1:03 (UTC).
5. All quotes from Peter Gorday, Principles of Patristic Exegesis: Romans 9–11 in Origen, John Chrysostom, and Augustine (New York: E. Mellen Press, 1983).
6. Anusim means the ones who were forced (into conversion); marranos refers to the same people, but in modern times the term can mean “pigs” and is considered offensive by many.
7. Mike Rothschild, Jewish Space Lasers: The Rothschilds and 200 Years of Conspiracy Theories (Melville House: Brooklyn, NY, 2023).