There are moments in history when we are called not only to feel, but to understand.
Antisemitism is not new. It is one of the oldest hatreds in recorded history. It has changed its language over centuries — religious, racial, economic, political — but its core has remained tragically consistent: the refusal to allow the Jewish people to live in safety, dignity, and sovereignty.
To understand antisemitism, we must first understand Jewish peoplehood.
The Jewish people are not merely a religious community. We are a nation — an ancient people with a shared language, land, covenant, and story. Long before modern political categories existed, there was Israel. The Hebrew Bible speaks of a people rooted in a specific geography, bound by shared destiny, centered in Jerusalem. Archaeology, history, and continuous tradition all affirm this connection.
King David established Jerusalem as the capital of the Israelite kingdom nearly 3,000 years ago. The First and Second Temples stood there. Jewish prayer, liturgy, and longing have turned toward Zion for millennia. Even in exile — from Babylonia to Spain to Eastern Europe — Jews ended the Passover Seder with the words: “Next year in Jerusalem.”
The modern State of Israel, established in 1948, did not invent Jewish connection to the land. It restored political sovereignty to an indigenous people in its ancestral homeland after nearly 2,000 years of dispersion. Consequences of the destruction of the Second Temple in 72 CE.
Antisemitism today often disguises itself as political critique. Legitimate criticism of any government’s policies is fair and necessary in a democratic world. But denying the Jewish people the right to self-determination — a right afforded to nearly every other nation — crosses into something older and darker.
When Israel alone is singled out for elimination, when Jewish identity worldwide is conflated with political grievances, when ancient tropes of conspiracy, dual loyalty, or blood libel resurface in modern language, we are not witnessing new ideas. We are witnessing recycled hatred.
Understanding this does not require abandoning compassion for others. It does not require ignoring complexity in the Middle East. It requires clarity.
Israel is not an abstract political experiment. It is the living homeland of a people whose roots are biblical and historical. The Hebrew prophets spoke of return. Jewish law and liturgy revolve around the land. The agricultural cycles of Torah correspond to its climate. The psalms sing of its hills and valleys.
For thousands of years, Jews survived dispersion with an unbroken memory of home.
To say that Israel has a right to exist is not a radical statement. It is an affirmation of the basic principle that every people has the right to safety, language, culture, and sovereignty.
Antisemitism thrives in ignorance. It feeds on caricature and simplification. The antidote is education — historical literacy, theological understanding, and moral courage.
We are living in a time when words matter. When misinformation spreads quickly. When Jewish communities around the world feel the tremors of events far away.
In such moments, we must respond with dignity and strength.
We must teach our children our history.
We must know our story.
We must stand without apology for our people’s right to exist.
And we must do so not with hatred, but with clarity and conviction.
The Jewish story is older than any modern conflict. It is a story of covenant, exile, return, resilience, and hope.
Israel is not merely a state.
It is the continuation of an ancient promise.
And understanding that truth is the beginning of confronting the prejudice that seeks to erase it.
