If You Don't Know What to Say to a Jew
Countless Jews have stood up for others throughout history. Now it is your turn to stand with us.
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On October 7th, 2023, the world shook (and is still shaking) for many Jews, including those who do not openly speak about it.
The Hamas-led massacres and kidnappings in southern Israel claimed the lives of more than 1,400 people, wounded thousands more, and left countless others deeply traumatized. Bizarrely (but unsurprisingly), the terror attack sparked a tidal wave of antisemitism across the world — because, you know, when Jews are targeted, it only makes sense to double down and keep targeting them. (Of course, that is sarcasm.)
The attack was not just another chapter in a painful history; it was a stark reminder of the fragility of Jewish safety in a world where antisemitism still thrives precisely because it has morphed into more socially fashionable forms like “anti-Zionism.”
For Jews around the globe, the massacre and its aftermath felt like an earthquake followed by never-ending aftershocks. In the months since, many non-Jews have found themselves at a loss for words. What do you say to someone whose community has been targeted with such brutality, who is processing centuries of inherited trauma now compounded by current events?
First, let me reassure you: You do not need to have the perfect thing to say. Simply “being there” counts for a lot. But if you would like to move beyond the generic “thinking of you” and engage with Jews in a way that is meaningful, here are eight ideas to get you started.
1) Begin with presence, not perfection.
You do not need to craft the perfect speech or become a geopolitical expert to show up for Jews right now. What matters is your willingness to engage, to listen, and to stand in solidarity.
Imagine someone standing in the rubble of their world, looking for a hand to hold, not for someone to explain why the rubble is there. Start simple: “I’m so sorry for what your community is going through. How are you holding up?”
These words will not mend our pain, but they will ease our isolation.
2) Understand the unique grief Jews are feeling.
The October 7th massacre did not happen in a vacuum. For Jews, it is the latest entry in a very long ledger of historical pain. From ancient persecutions to medieval expulsions, pogroms, and the Holocaust, Jewish trauma is deeply layered. When tragedy strikes, it does not just hurt in the present; it reverberates through millennia of collective memory.
Saying something like, “This must feel like history repeating itself,” signals that you understand this is not just a bad day. It is a horrifying reminder that safety, for Jews, has often been fleeting.
A touch of humor can help too. Try: “So, after 3,000 years, you’re still here. That’s both wildly impressive and terribly unfair that you’re still dealing with this.”
3) Avoid comparisons (and hot takes).
Here’s a tip: This is not the time to play “oppression Olympics” or to offer your hottest Twitter-inspired geopolitical analysis. Comparing tragedies or reducing Jewish suffering to a political footnote erases the specific grief Jews are experiencing right now.
Bad: “Well, other groups have it worse.” Or: “Have you considered how Israel’s policies contributed to this?”
Good: “I don’t know enough to comment on the politics, but I care about you, and I’m so sorry for what your community is going through.”
There is comfort in humility. Saying, “I don’t know enough,” is a surprisingly powerful acknowledgment.
4) Be an ally, not a savior.
Jews are not looking for someone to swoop in with solutions. Instead, they are looking for allies who will amplify our voices and stand against antisemitism.
Antisemitism today often hides behind thin veneers, making it tricky for the untrained eye to spot. Jews will appreciate if you do the work to educate yourself. Call out prejudice when you see it, whether it is an offhand joke, a conspiracy theory, or a protest sign that vilifies Jews under the guise of criticizing Israel.
It might feel awkward to intervene, but think of it this way: Jews have been standing up for others for centuries. Now it’s your turn to stand up for them.
Say: “I’m trying to learn more about antisemitism so I can be a better ally. Is there anything you’d recommend I read or watch?”
Avoid: “I’ll fight anyone who says something antisemitic!” (That’s sweet, but let’s keep the vigilante justice to Batman.)
5) Recognize the diversity of Jewish identity.
Jews are not a monolith. They span every race, nationality, and political leaning. Some are secular, while others are relatively religious. Some feel connected to Israel; others may not.
Instead of assuming, ask questions like: “How has this moment affected you personally?” And: “What’s something you wish more people understood about being Jewish?”
You might hear answers that surprise you. Jews often feel the weight of having to represent an entire people in conversations. By letting them tell their individual story, you lift that burden.
6) Don’t wait for a crisis to show up.
Here is an uncomfortable truth: Many Jews feel that the world only notices them when we are in danger. The flood of support during moments of tragedy often dries up once the headlines fade.
One way to build trust is to show up during normal times too. Celebrate Jewish holidays with your Jewish friends. Ask about their favorite Jewish foods or traditions. Support Jewish businesses and organizations.
Think of it like friendship maintenance. Would you only call your best friend when their life is falling apart? No, you would also call to share a joke or plan brunch.
7) Let humor lighten the mood.
Jews have survived millennia of hardship partly through humor. It is a cornerstone of Jewish resilience. If the moment feels right, do not be afraid to inject a little levity: “You’ve been through so much. If this doesn’t qualify for a spa day or at least some babka, I don’t know what does.”
Of course, use discretion. There is a fine line between humor and insensitivity. If you are unsure, lean toward compassion first.
8) Ask what they need.
Finally, the simplest way to support Jews is to ask: “How can I help?”
Some might say they just need a listening ear. Others might suggest donating to organizations providing humanitarian aid or fighting antisemitism.
Be prepared for silence, too. Not every Jew will have the energy or words to articulate what they need. Respect their boundaries while letting them know that you are there if and when they are ready.
Speaking up against antisemitism can feel daunting. It might mean confronting friends, family, or colleagues. It might involve awkward conversations or social tension. But remember: Silence emboldens hate. Your voice, however small it may feel, is a powerful tool in the fight for justice and dignity.
If you need inspiration, look to the countless Jews who have stood up for others throughout history. Now it is your turn to stand with us.
That said, this moment is difficult. It is difficult for Jews, and it is difficult for those who want to support us but do not know how. But all it requires is sincerity, compassion, and the willingness to learn. Being there for Jews right now does not require a degree in Jewish studies or a Middle East conflict cheat sheet.
In the face of so much darkness, even the smallest gestures of kindness can bring light. So if you do not know what to say, consider these thought-starters. And remember: Being an ally is not about perfection; it is about showing up.
If you take one thing away from this essay, let it be this: Your words and actions matter. Whether you are comforting a Jewish friend or colleague, challenging antisemitism, or simply striving to better understand Jewish experiences, you are helping to build a world where hate has less power.
And that is a mitzvah — a good deed — in the truest sense.
I may be a lone voice braying in the wilderness like some lonely jackass, but here is my recent letter to the editor of our local "paper" which was published late last week.
“Amsterdam is burning. After the hunt for the Jews, now the intifada.” So states “Israel Realtime” this morning as it reports (alone) on the continuing rioting and burning of property in that city in the wake of the pogrom against the Jewish soccer fans this last weekend. What does one think that “globalize the intifada” means in the real world. Europe successfully fought back the armies of radical jihadist Islam, from Spain on their western front to Vienna on their eastern front, from the late 8th century through the late 17th century. Yet, in the early 21st century, they have willingly opened their gates to the same philosophy and now the battles for the soul of Europe have begun. And, as usual, it has begun with attacks on the Jews, the world’s historically convenient scapegoat. But as I have said before in these pages, what starts with the Jews does not end with the Jews. We have opened our own southern gates to some of the same people with the same philosophy. We have already desensitized ourselves to attacks against Jews at our universities. We have already looked the other way as “otherwise peaceful protestors” have burned our cities. I foresee an “Antifada” (no, that is not a misspelling) in our own near future especially with the results of the latest election. I read a timely quote this morning from a frequent contributor to one of my favorite sites (Pat Johnson in “Future of Jewish”), “I will stand with the Jews today, not because tomorrow may be too late, but because today is as bad as it should ever get.” As a Christian who would like to get along with his fellow human beings, that is my truth and strength. I am ready to stand today with the Jews.
I would add, no “buts.” No, I support Israel’s right to defend itself, but…. No, I believe Jews have a right to Israel, but…. When I sentence has a “but” in the middle, it means ignore everything that was previously said. No one says, I support civil rights but…, no one says I support freedom, but …. Conditional support is no support at all.