This month, two seemingly unrelated incidents underscored a chilling trend: antisemitism is not just alive — it’s adapting.
First, Elon Musk’s AI chatbot Grok was “freed from its guardrails,” prompting it to spiral into Nazi-adjacent conspiracy theories. Then, earlier this week, the beloved X account of Elmo — yes, that Elmo — was hacked. The attacker posted a series of disturbing messages, including blatant antisemitic content that we won’t repeat here. Both incidents came amid rising tensions over the Israel-Palestine conflict and have left many in the Jewish community feeling understandably shaken.
This isn’t just an online problem. It’s a spiritual one, too.
Antisemitism, defined as “hostility toward or discrimination against Jews as a religious, ethnic or racial group,” has reemerged with alarming force in recent years. The FBI has called it “a pervasive and present fact,” pointing to a surge in threats and violence against Jewish communities. For Christians — especially those who claim to follow a Messiah who was Jewish — this moment demands reflection, repentance and action.
For those committed to opposing bigotry in all its forms, fighting antisemitism begins by confronting our own history. That includes acknowledging the painful legacy of Christian antisemitism. It requires humility — a willingness to admit that prejudice and theological arrogance against Jewish people are not just historical footnotes but a distortion of the Gospel itself.
What many modern believers don’t realize is just how deeply antisemitic ideas have been embedded in church history. Early church fathers wrote anti-Jewish polemics. During the medieval era, Christian Europe was home to violent mobs, forced conversions and systemic exclusion of Jews. Martin Luther, whose theology shaped Protestantism, eventually authored some of the most vicious antisemitic writings of his time — later cited by the Nazis as ideological fuel.
And while figures like Corrie ten Boom risked everything to protect Jewish lives during the Holocaust, they were the exception. The majority of European Christians, including clergy, were either silent or complicit as millions were murdered. That silence echoes today whenever we downplay antisemitism or remain indifferent.
But that’s not the end of the story. It doesn’t have to be.
As followers of Jesus, we have the opportunity — and the responsibility — to live differently. We can start by acknowledging the pain Christians have caused in the past and by choosing to be present in solidarity with Jewish communities now.
Recently, I joined a delegation of Christian college students and young professionals on a trip to Pittsburgh, just after the four-year anniversary of the Tree of Life synagogue shooting — the deadliest antisemitic attack in U.S. history. We were there to listen and to learn.
We heard from Rabbi Jeffrey Myers, who was in the building during the shooting. We listened to four survivors, who spoke not only of the terror they endured but of the unexpected love they received — from Christians across the country and even from survivors of the Mother Emanuel AME Church massacre in Charleston.
We visited the Holocaust Center and had hard, honest conversations about Christian antisemitism. We asked questions. We sat with the discomfort. And we began to see what healing could look like when it starts with listening.
That trip was a glimpse of what Christian solidarity can be. Education is the first step. But it’s not the last.
When we study history — especially the uncomfortable parts — we are better equipped to break the cycle of hate. When we engage with our local Jewish communities — not just in moments of crisis but consistently — we begin to build real relationships. When we challenge conspiracy theories, reject stereotypes and speak up when antisemitic language surfaces in Christian spaces, we live out the Gospel in a tangible way.
History doesn’t have to repeat itself. But if we don’t act, it just might.
So here’s the call: Engage. Show up. Ask your Jewish neighbors about their stories. Learn about their heritage. Listen — really listen — when they talk about what it’s like to be Jewish in America right now. And when you see antisemitism — online, in a sermon, in a joke — name it. Denounce it.
We’re not powerless in this moment. The page hasn’t been written yet. As Christians, we’re called to choose justice over apathy, humility over pride, solidarity over silence.
Turning the page starts with us. And it starts now.
