The New Face of an Old Hate: Reflections on Modern-Day Antisemitism
In October 2023, I wrote from a place of devastation, horror, and urgency following the massacre in Israel and the terrifying global surge in antisemitic hate that erupted in its aftermath. As a minister devoted to unity, social justice, and intersectional awareness, I reflected on nearly a decade of marrying people across all identities and beliefs, standing with the marginalized, and supporting Indigenous communities of Turtle Island (donating to land back initiatives, paying Shuumi Land Tax, educating about appropriation.) But in that post-pogrom moment, I stepped forward not only as a minister—but as a Jew.
I spoke out against the hypocrisy I saw in progressive circles (including land back movements,) the selective outrage, and the alarming co-opting of social justice jargon to justify hatred against Jews. I called on my community of friends, clients, and colleagues to wake up, see through the fog, and stand against this oldest, ever-mutating, insidious hatred. I asked them to speak up—and reminded them that silence is complicity.
What I mostly received in response was silence.
The few who did respond were Jews, expressing their devastation and disorientation as the ground shifted beneath their feet and their sense of belonging in the wider world shattered.
A year later, I revisited that post and saw—with heartbreak and with horror—every fear realized and every warning confirmed. The rise in global antisemitism has been relentless—violent attacks, bomb threats, synagogue vandalism, and open harassment of Jews have become disturbingly routine. The war in Gaza does not justify this. No other diaspora group has faced such backlash for a conflict overseas—not Chinese people for the Uyghurs genocide, nor Russians for their war crimes in Ukraine.
This surge in Jew-hatred is not organic—it’s being actively manufactured and deliberately spread. It’s fueled by disinformation campaigns, unchecked Qatari influence in higher education, the moral collapse of elite universities, radicalized curricula (even in K–12 classrooms), and global institutions like the UN that have abandoned impartiality and become rotten to the core. Social media algorithms amplify antisemitic narratives while suppressing facts, distorting global perception.
Meanwhile, the silence from most non-Jewish friends, colleagues, and so-called allies continues to be deafening. This collective apathy mirrors a chilling historical pattern: before the gas chambers came scapegoating, conspiracy, and complicity. Today’s version is repackaged in progressive language—but it’s no less dangerous. The weaponization of victimhood, moral inversion, and the normalization of antisemitism in “enlightened” spaces is staggering.
I am grateful for the brave voices speaking truth with moral clarity—public figures, thinkers, and activists from diverse backgrounds who reject jihadist extremism and call out hypocrisy, moral perversion, false equivalencies, and moral narcissism. As Ruth Wisse said, “To have real liberalism you have to say no to evil.” Too many are failing that basic test.
Yom HaShoah (Holocaust Remembrance Day)
Today, as we pause to remember the six million lives brutally extinguished in the Holocaust, I do so with more clarity—and more sorrow and disillusionment—than ever before. This year, remembrance is not theoretical, not historical, not distant. It is painfully, frighteningly current. What was once “Never Again” now feels like “once again—in a new, ever-mutating form.”
This year, it’s impossible to separate memory from reality. I see the echoes of history unfolding in the present: the demonization and distortions, the conspiracies and canards, the vandalism and violence, the beatings and the boycotts. The world has not learned. In some cases, it has grown bolder in its hatred, savvier in its double standards, more sophisticated in its denial.
The Holocaust didn’t happen overnight. Jews were scapegoated, dehumanized, and subjected to both random and organized violence long before the gas chambers. Small acts paved the way for larger atrocities. Twisted ideologies, radicalized students, and passive bystanders each played a role. It began with rationalizations, “context,” and silence. With the erosion of empathy and normalization of hate.
So today, I remember—with grief, but also with fierce conviction forged in fire. I remember the dead—my own relatives among them, and I stand firmly with the living, and with the hostages still in hell.
Despite the heartbreak and betrayal, I am proud beyond measure to be part of a resilient, progress-oriented, philanthropically-minded people. To be Jewish is to carry both the wound and the wonder. We have known every form of exile and attempt at extermination, and yet we still innovate and celebrate. We still teach our children about hope and the value of life.
Like Kintsugi pottery, we are vessels that have been shattered and repaired. The cracks are visible—and they shine bright like the sun.
