Even antisemitism has positive effects.

Is anything we experience today unprecedented? Should we be surprised by the obvious rise in antisemitism? Is that really new?

photo: Levi Meir Clancy/Unsplash

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This is a guest essay written by Joshua Namm, a longtime Jewish community professional.

You can also listen to the podcast version of this essay on Apple Podcasts, YouTube Music, YouTube, and Spotify.

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Antisemitism is the assimilation killer.

I know that seems counterintuitive. So many of us have last names that aren’t the names of our ancestors, but names created to hide our Jewishness at a time when antisemitism was a very serious threat.

I like to think that, if I changed my name, it would have been to make it more Jewish. However, I can’t judge people from previous generations that experienced hardships that are difficult for us to fully comprehend.

I can, though, judge the times that I am living through now, and that experience tells a different story.

I wrote this in the middle of Passover, and since October 7th none of our Passovers have been “normal.” There are still over 50 hostages being held in appalling conditions in Gaza. Antisemitism is at a level that none of us born after World War II have ever experienced. And antisemitism on college campuses seems to be surging again.

But what, exactly, is “normal” for Passover? As a people, Jews have been around for so long that it’s hard to believe that anything is unprecedented for us. During the Seder¹, we recount the experience of our ancestors, which included being brought out of Egypt by G-d himself, the miraculous splitting of the sea, and the 10 plagues that preceded our deliverance from the Egyptians.

The separation from Egypt was not merely physical; it was an internal spiritual separation that divided who we were, from who we became. The process between the Exodus from Egypt and the giving of the Torah is what turned us into a nation. It was arduous because it represented the ultimate form of spiritual purification.

In a few weeks, we will be observing Shavuot which, among other things, celebrates the giving of the Torah at Mount Sinai. The first two commandments were given directly to the Jewish People by G-d himself.

During the 40 years in the desert, there was a pillar of smoke that guided us during the day, and a pillar of fire that guided us at night. Even more incredible, we survived on the manna² that arrived each day. (It began to fall on the 18th of Iyar³ which itself became another Jewish holiday: Lag B’Omer, which begins the evening of May 15th this year.) There is a tradition that the manna tasted like anything the person eating it wanted it to taste like.

We have also experienced the amazingness of Purim, Chanukah, and countless other miracles (hidden and revealed) over centuries. We’ve also experienced moments of pain and anguish. Sometimes, as in Purim and Chanukah, it was both. Other holidays commemorate tragedies that have befallen the Jewish People.

Our history is overflowing with experience.

So, is anything we experience today unprecedented? Should we be surprised by the obvious rise in antisemitism? Is that really new?

The biggest catastrophe for modern Jewry was, of course, the Holocaust. It was worse than anything in most of our lifetimes (thank G-d), and it is so recent that we are fully justified in looking around our present world and wondering whether it could happen again (G-d forbid).

But, we’ve seen it all before, and we always prevail.

As Rabbi Raphael Shore explains, the first case study in antisemitism was the Exodus itself. The interesting thing is that there are parallels to today that help explain why we always prevail which are rooted in the connections between antisemitism and who we are as a people. Which makes sense. Antisemitism hasn’t changed, and the core of what makes us Jewish will never change.

The most obvious reason for antisemitism is that we are the people that brought the idea of G-d, monotheism, and the obligations that those beliefs impose on humanity, into the world. Our unwavering devotion to G-d, and His principles, have been making other people uncomfortable for thousands of years.

Because they are uncomfortable, they have been coming up with lies used as pretext, to excuse their hatred of us and justify violence against us. The lies of today are the same as the lies that our ancestors were forced to deal with.

Today, one of the most common lies is that antisemites don’t hate Jews; they only hate Zionism. The original lie, Pharoah’s lie, was that there were too many of us, and that presented a threat. As Rabbi Shore pointed out:

“…he claimed the Jews were a national security threat. ‘The Israelites are becoming too numerous… If war breaks out, they might join our enemies and fight against us.’ (Exodus 1:9–10). Really? A group of shepherds and laborers, who had lived peacefully in Goshen for generations, were suddenly a military threat capable of starting a war? This excuse is as flimsy as it sounds.”⁴

It was the spiritual threat we posed that was the actual threat to Pharoah. Just as Hamen (from Purim), and Hitler in more modern times, were threatened. Just as, today, while the world is increasingly living in a spiritual vacuum created by the ebbing of religion in the West, the Jews — with our stubborn adherence to the morals given to us at Mount Sinai — are a real threat to an increasingly vapid, superficial, and often evil society.

In each case, our mere existence threaten ideologies that are man centered, not G-d centered. Their ultimate goal is either tyrannical power or to embrace an animalistic lifestyle where every urge and action are justified by invoking the supremacy of the self. In many cases, they go hand-in-hand.

The Jews stand in the way of both. We always have. In terms of antisemitism, the period before the Exodus was no different than today. What our ancestors experienced pre-Exodus is very much the same as what we are experiencing right now. The good news is that, as Rabbi Shore points out, antisemitism can remind us of who we are:

“The Midrash⁵ teaches that the Jews were redeemed from Egypt because they maintained their distinctiveness — they didn’t change their clothes, names, or language, even in the face of slavery (Shemot Rabbah 1:28).”

“On the surface, this seems like a small detail, but its meaning runs deep. Even in the depths of oppression, the Jews understood they were different — a family with a unique role, even if they weren’t fully ‘doing it all’ in terms of observance. This awareness of their special identity was the crucial step that paved the way for redemption.”

I have seen this all around me since October 7th. On social media, there are stories every single day of people whose Jewishness was awakened by October 7th and, unfortunately, by Jew-hatred all around them. I know people who have gone out of their way, every day, since October 7th to publicly display their Jewishness, from Jewish stars to tzitzit⁶.

There is a national understanding that we are unique, and this understanding often ignites an inner pride that is manifested in Jews — Jewishly doing Jewish things. This pride extends to people doing more mitzvot (commandments), lighting Shabbat candles, putting on tefillin⁷, giving more tzedakah (charity), and so forth.

Antisemitism can be a forge that is, once again, galvanizing the Jewish spirit. Not because we enjoy being targets of hate, but because, at the level of our souls and our national consciousness, the hate reminds us of who we are.

I know that sounds like it is kind of backwards There is so much beauty in Judaism; it seems like it shouldn’t have to be awoken by a bunch of people acting in barbaric ways. I don’t view it that way.

During Passover, we relive a national event, in real-time. We are instructed to view ourselves as personally being taken out of Egypt as the Seder progresses. (In fact, that is one of the points of the Seder.)

For better, or for worse (and ultimately, it is always for better) because of what we have been experiencing since October 7th, we have been shaken into reality. The reality is: We are Jews. The same Jews taken out of Egypt by G-d more than 3,000 years ago. You don’t believe that? Then explain to me why it pierces our souls every time we experience a national event, positive or negative.

This is your soul recognizing that the world around it is, in fact, Jewish.

There are more positive ways to achieve the same sense of purpose, but even antisemitism has positive effects.

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1. A traditional Jewish ceremonial meal that marks the first night (and in some traditions, the second night) of Passover

2. In the Bible, manna refers to the miraculous food that God provided for the Israelites during their 40-year journey through the desert after the Exodus from Egypt.

3. Iyar is a month in the Hebrew calendar, meaning “light.”

4. “A 3,500-Year-Old Story That Explains Antisemitism Today.” Future of Jewish.

5. A type of Jewish biblical exegesis, or interpretation, that uses rabbinic methods prominent in the Talmud

6. Specially knotted ritual fringes, or tassels, worn in antiquity by Israelites and today by observant Jews

7. A pair of small, black leather boxes containing four sections of Torah verses