I remember the first time I realized I was not confident I could be brave enough to hide the Jewish people like Corrie ten Boom and her family did during World War II. When I was a single college student, the choice seemed easy. Years later, as a wife and mother, I realized such courage would require risking not only my life but my family’s too. I remember praying that, if the time came, God would give me the strength to do the right thing.

Several weeks ago, I was invited on a trip to Israel. Although I wanted to go, I quickly dismissed the offer—after all, a war is going on, and I am a wife and mother. My husband thought otherwise. He knew the importance of this trip and assured me he and our son would be fine. And while going to Israel today is not nearly the same as hiding Jewish people during the Holocaust, the trip taught me why supporting the Jewish state with tangible actions matters so much.

Becoming a Witness

October 7, 2023, changed my life forever, even though I am neither Jewish nor an Israeli. I made myself watch the GoPro video footage Hamas released as they shot and mutilated people all over southern Israel. I saw women and children kidnapped. I watched little boys and girls ask the terrorists if their moms and dads, lying in pools of blood, were truly dead. I saw people dancing in the streets as dead Jewish bodies were paraded through Gaza.

Hamas proudly recorded all of these atrocities, and I watched them with angry tears. But going and seeing the actual sites of these evil acts? I wasn’t sure I could take it.

Holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel once said, “I believe firmly and profoundly that whoever listens to a witness becomes a witness, so those who hear us, those who read us must continue to bear witness for us. Until now, they’re doing it with us. At a certain point in time, they will do it for all of us.” I became a witness to October 7.

Death and Destruction Up Close

I am still processing everything I witnessed on my trip. While in Israel, I walked through an open field at the Nova Music Festival memorial, where Hamas terrorists paraglided and drove armed trucks into a sea of young people, killing almost 400 souls indiscriminately. Now, the site is a memorial.

As I walked, I tried to look at the many pictures of faces and memorabilia with which families and friends decorated the site for their lost loved ones. I wept for those lives that were taken, many of whom were in their late teens and early 20s. I don’t know if any of them were believers in Jesus. I prayed for their families and friends, still mourning and processing their horrific losses.

Then, I heard something I had heard only in movies: A bomb dropped. It was the day Israel entered Rafah, and we were only a few miles from the Gaza border. The reality of Israel’s proximity to its neighbors who hate them and want them wiped from the earth could not be ignored. 

From the massacre site, we drove along the highway to a car cemetery. It was unlike anything I had ever seen. Black spots still lined the highway on both sides, where cars had been riddled with bullet holes and set on fire with a powerful accelerant, with no hope of anyone surviving. These cars were full of people fleeing their homes and the festival. Most cars were burned beyond recognition. I stopped in my tracks when I saw a charred ambulance in which 16 young people hid during the attack at the Nova Festival. Surely no one would attack an ambulance, I naturally thought. Yet, all 16 people were killed. 

In the wheat-field-turned-cemetery, people stopped us and thanked us for coming to be witnesses to the horror of October 7. All week long, Israelis stopped our small group of Americans to show us their appreciation.

The Heartbreak of Betrayal

In the midst of unimaginable sadness, we were taken to Kibbutz Erez on the Gaza border and told a story of triumph. This kibbutz (community) was not infiltrated by Hamas terrorists on October 7. We met the head of security and learned how his brave team living in the gated community saved hundreds of lives. For hours these men held off terrorists who shot and bombed the security fences, trying to gain access to the community. 

What the Jewish people saw as a means to achieve peace with their neighbors was actually a Hamas plot to infiltrate, gather information, and attack.

Many do not realize that these Hamas terrorists had specific assignments. They received instructions on how to enter the communities and where people would be hiding. They had detailed papers listing which houses had dogs, where guns and ammunition were hidden, if there were safe rooms inside the homes, and more. How did they obtain such intimate information?

Many of these communities allowed Gazans an opportunity to work inside their communities, where they were paid far more than the average wage in Gaza. What the Jewish people saw as a means to achieve peace with their neighbors was actually a Hamas plot to infiltrate, gather information, and attack. 

Standing With the Apple of God’s Eye

The world wants to diminish what Hamas did to Israel on October 7 or to equate it with the nation’s response in taking out the terrorist organization in Gaza. But the truth I witnessed in Israel contradicts ideas the mainstream media and social media has fed us these last seven months. Is the war truly justifiable? Are the Jewish people acting like victims but really the oppressors? Are they trying to take Gaza for a land grab? Stripping away everything at the surface, we see Israel striving for peace and being forced to eliminate its enemy because of Hamas’s open promise to perform the October 7 massacre again and again. 

Never would I have believed standing up for Israel and the Jewish people in my lifetime would require such bravery. Yet, here we are. Israel will always be the target of the enemy because it is through the Jewish people that God will pour out Satan’s eternal punishment. Now, we, believers in Jesus and supporters of Israel, need to speak out.

Never would I have believed standing up for Israel and the Jewish people in my lifetime would require such bravery. Yet, here we are.

I remember reading The Hiding Place by Corrie ten Boom. I learned that Corrie, her sister Betsy, and her father all were caught and sent to concentration camps for protecting the Jewish people during World War II. Their care for the Jewish people didn’t begin only once the Nazis entered Holland. It came from an overflow of what they knew and believed in God’s Word.

Corrie’s words resonate with me now like never before. “‘Those poor people,’ Father echoed. But to my surprise I saw that he was looking at the soldiers now forming into ranks to march away. ‘I pity the poor Germans, Corrie. They have touched the apple of God’s eye.’”

May we stand up for and stand beside the Jewish people now because we are all witnesses.

About the Author

Photo Credit: Sarah Fern

Have you ever had a one minute to midnight moment? Such a moment comes when a person is faced with a life-changing decision.

The phrase one minute to midnight originated with the Doomsday Clock, a representation of how close the world is to global catastrophe as a result of our own technological and scientific advancements and geopolitical conflicts. Today, the clock is set at 90 seconds to midnight—the closest to destruction we have ever been since the clock’s inception—as we inch closer and closer to one minute to midnight. Scripture is filled with one minute to midnight moments. For instance, King David had such a moment when he stood face to face with the mighty Goliath with only a slingshot and five smooth stones. Moses’ moment came after serving as a shepherd for 40 years and, holding his staff, telling Pharaoh “let my people go.” Daniel’s moment came when he was thrown into a pit of hungry lions. Each of them confronted and overcame danger by the grace of God.

Esther’s One Minute to Midnight Moment

The Shushan palace of the Medo-Persian King “Ahasuerus who reigned over one hundred and twenty-seven provinces, from India to Ethiopia” (Esther 1:1) was an unlikely place for a Jewish girl to be queen. But God had a divine plan. Indeed, Queen Esther faced a one minute to midnight moment when she had to decide whether to keep her Jewish identity hidden from her husband, the king, thus allowing her people to perish or to face her own death and confess her identity to Ahasuerus (Xerxes I), hoping he somehow would change his mind. But then she received a chilling message from her cousin Mordecai:

Do not think in your heart that you will escape in the king’s palace any more than all the other Jews. For if you remain completely silent at this time, relief and deliverance will arise for the Jews from another place, but you and your father’s house will perish. Yet who knows whether you have come to the kingdom for such a time as this? (4:13–14).

What would she do? How did this moment come about?  

The Jewish Girl Crowned Queen

Before Esther left her home, Mordecai told her to tell no one she was Jewish.

Let’s rewind in the book of Esther: The Jewish people were exiles in Babylon. The opportunity to return to their homeland was not met with great enthusiasm, and only about 50,000 returned. “Now it came to pass” that to show off “the riches of his glorious kingdom and the splendor of his excellent majesty,” Ahasuerus threw a party to end all parties, lasting six months (1:4). He invited his wife Vashti to display her beauty (v. 11), but she refused, shaming Ahasuerus, who immediately began looking for a new wife. 

As these things were happening in the palace, elsewhere in Shushan lived “a certain Jew” (2:5) named Mordecai. He had raised his cousin Hadassah (Esther), “for she had neither father nor mother” (v. 7). The search for a queen was advertised throughout the kingdom, and the strikingly beautiful Esther volunteered to go into “the house of the women” (v. 9). 

Before Esther left her home, Mordecai told her to tell no one she was Jewish (v. 10). She lived in the king’s house a full year, bathing in oil of myrrh and perfumes to prepare her for the one night she would spend with Ahasuerus (v. 12). That night would decide her fate. She would either become queen or be relegated to the king’s harem forever.

When the time came for Esther to go to the king, the Scripture says, “The king loved Esther more than all the other women, and she obtained grace and favor in his sight” (v. 17). Esther, the stealthy Jewish girl, became the new queen of Persia.

Face to Face With Death

As a result, Mordecai landed a new job sitting “within the king’s gate” (v. 21), a place of honor and influence. Haman, one of the king’s chief officials, was also promoted, and thus due homage by everyone at the king’s gate (3:2). Mordecai refused, causing Haman to become “filled with wrath” (v. 5) to the point that he not only wanted Mordecai dead, but also “sought to destroy all the Jews” (v. 6).

A highly motivated Haman came to the king to negotiate a deal Ahasuerus could not refuse. He promised to put 10,000 talents of silver into the treasury if the king would agree to get rid of “a certain people” (Jews) whose “laws are different from all other people’s, and [who] do not keep the king’s laws” (v. 8). The king agreed to Haman’s proposal, gave Haman his signet ring, and let him issue the decree (v. 12).

Written in Ahasuerus’s name, the decree called for Jewish destruction, “both young and old, little children and women, in one day, on the thirteenth day of the twelfth month, . . . Adar” (v. 13). Persian law emphatically stated that once a law was enacted, not even the king could change it (Daniel 6:8). This seemed a death sentence for all the Jewish people in the kingdom unless there was some sort of intervention.

This was Esther’s one minute to midnight moment. She became queen “for such a time as this” (Esther 4:13).

This was Esther’s one minute to midnight moment. She became queen “for such a time as this” (Esther 4:13). What could she do? If she went to the king without an invitation, he could put her to death immediately. But if she stayed silent, her people would be without hope.

Providential Deliverance

Though the word prayer is not mentioned in the book of Esther, it does say Esther fasted (4:16), a very common act among Jewish people in Old Testament times (cf. Ezra 8:21–23; Psalm 109:21–24; Daniel 9:3). Undoubtedly this time of fasting brought clarity in deciding what to do (Esther 4:16). She did go into the king and reveal her identity, ultimately resulting in the rescue of the Jewish people.

No miracles or divine intervention are mentioned, but we do see an abundance of providence. This book is a testament to the truth of Romans 8:38: “All things work together for good to those who love God.” God is providential in His control and works supernaturally through natural means. His unseen hand is behind every detail and ironic twist of “fate.”

God was not caught off guard. We see the truth of Proverbs 21:1: “The king’s heart is in the hand of the Lᴏʀᴅ, like rivers of water: He turns it wherever He wishes.”

And it seems Esther’s spirit was also prepared when she approached the king unannounced:

For the Lᴏʀᴅ gives wisdom; from His mouth come knowledge and understanding; He stores up sound wisdom for the upright; He is a shield to those who walk uprightly; He guards the paths of justice, and preserves the way of His saints. Then you will understand righteousness and justice, equity and every good path (2:6–9).

We will always face dilemmas in life. Seeking the Lord for wisdom through prayer is never a mistake. Be prepared for your own one minute to midnight moment: “If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives to all liberally and without reproach, and it will be given to him” (James 1:5). As the apostle Paul wrote,

Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus (Philippians 4:6–7).

About the Author

If you travel throughout Europe, you might find yourself stumbling over uneven bumps in the street. Looking down, you might find that it was no ordinary section of the path that tripped you up. It’s a small concrete cube bearing a brass plate raised above the rest of the street. That’s no accident. Each stone bears the name, birthday, and fate of a victim of the Holocaust. The fate of some was exile, some suicide, others internment, but most ended up victims of deportation or murder.

There are more than 70,000 of these Stumbling Stones strewn across the world, primarily in Europe. You can find them in more than 2,000 towns and cities throughout 24 nations, including Argentina, Austria, Belgium, France, Germany, Hungary, the Netherlands, Russia, Slovenia and Ukraine. They are written in any one of 20 different languages. Together they tell the unforgettable story of those who endured the Holocaust, and they form the largest decentralized memorial in the world. 

Brutality Remembered

These Stumbling Stones, known as Stolpersteine, are a powerful picture of the call we have to never forget the horrors of the Holocaust. January 27 is internationally recognized as Holocaust Remembrance Day, a day when we should be especially willing to “stumble” over the terrible reality of those brutal years of Jewish persecution in the 1930s and 40s. 

So let’s not gloss over the pain these Jewish prisoners endured. They experienced cruelty in almost every form. They were forced into manual labor in concentration camps to the point of death. They were killed in gas chambers. They were hung. They were starved to death. They were gunned down. Through this day of remembrance, we honor the memory of the victims and are reminded each year of the evil in man’s heart when he rejects God and His Word and is driven by hate.

As we pledge to never forget the Holocaust, we take part in ensuring a future that does not repeat such evil.

I wish I could say the world has learned its lesson since those dark times, but in many places in the world, Jewish people are still dogged by anti-Semitism, intolerance, and violence. Rather than eradicating these problems, Eastern Europe has seen a rise in anti-Semitic issues in recent years. Jewish people still face unprovoked violence in neighborhoods in states like New York and New Jersey far too often. And in what is now the only Jewish nation on Earth, danger is always imminent from hostile neighbors who want to wipe Jewish people out of the Land of Israel and off the map.

We would do well to keep in mind the words of author George Santayana: “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” As we pledge to never forget the Holocaust, we take part in ensuring a future that does not repeat such evil.

Deliverance Celebrated

On this day we recall not only the evil of the Holocaust but also the freedom from it. It was on this date in 1945 that the Auschwitz-Birkenau concentration camps were liberated, freeing the remaining 9,000 prisoners. 

Fortunately, we have many options at our disposal to remember the Holocaust and pass on the legacy of its victims and survivors to younger generations. This is a day when social media can be a powerful tool for good, connecting people around the world to stories from the Holocaust—stories of both tragedy and triumph—and filling the public consciousness with the remembrance of this event. You can spread awareness in your own way by sharing your reflections on this day using #WeRemember on your social media posts. And though the number of remaining Holocaust survivors is dwindling each year, many of those who remain with us have shared their experiences in their own words through written and oral testimonies and in public programs. The United States Holocaust Memorial Museum’s YouTube channel offers a host of videos of Holocaust survivors sharing their stirring stories of escape from the powers of evil.

Promises Kept

Nazi Germany and its proxies nearly succeeded in erasing the Jewish people from the face of the earth. As about 6 million Jewish people met a gruesome fate, there could have been none left by the end of World War II. The only possible answer for the deliverance of the survivors and the proliferation of the Jewish race is God. He made an everlasting covenant with Abraham to be the God of His descendants forevermore (Genesis 17:7). God promised that only if the ordinances of the sun, moon, and stars left God’s control, if heaven could be measured, and if the foundations of the earth could be searched would Israel cease to be a nation before Him (Jeremiah 31:35–37)—which will never happen! Though terrible evil engulfed the Jewish people, God did not allow the Jewish race to be exterminated.

Only by God’s hand could Israel not only be revitalized but also thrive in a region of nations bent on its destruction.

He even caused a miraculous blessing to be born out of the horrors of the Holocaust: the birth of modern Israel in 1948, just three years after the Holocaust ended. Then and now, Israel has served as a safe haven for Jewish people escaping persecution from countries across the globe. Only by God’s hand could Israel not only be revitalized but also thrive in a region of nations bent on its destruction.

God never abandoned His Chosen People, and neither should we. International Holocaust Remembrance Day is our opportunity to take time each year to remember the suffering the Jewish people endured. And as the Stolpersteine remind us, we should be willing to stumble and sacrifice our own comfort to ensure such evil will never again run unrestrained while we live and breathe.

About the Author

We had just finished an after-service fellowship dinner. I was the church’s guest speaker that Sunday, and I had spoken on the topic of God’s unique relationship with Israel. As attendees finished their lunch and sipped their coffee, I went to the podium to take questions from the audience. The first few were general questions about theology and Jewish history. But then a man raised his hand to say something, and what he said changed the entire tenor of the afternoon.

“I’m not anti-Semitic,” he said, “but the fact is, Jews do have all the money and the power in society today.”

“What did you say?” I asked.

“Jews. They have all the money and power in our society,” he said, again.

“Excuse me, but I’m going to stop you right there,” I said. “That’s not true.”

“Well, we’ll have to disagree,” he said. “They do have all the money.”

“So?” I asked. “Even if that were true, and it’s not, why would that be a problem?”

“Oh, it’s no problem at all,” he said. “It’s just a fact.”

“It’s not a fact,” I said. “But what you are asserting is that Jews have money and power, and you are insinuating that that is somehow a bad thing.”

The man looked offended.

“I’m not anti-Semitic!” he said defensively. 

“You may not think what you are saying is anti-Semitic,” I said, “but I’m telling you it is. In fact, if any of my Jewish friends were here today, they would find what you are saying extremely offensive.”

“If any of my Jewish friends were here today, they would find what you are saying extremely offensive.”

I wish I could say that this type of exchange is rare, but it isn’t. I have spoken in countless evangelical churches—churches that rightly exalt Jesus as Lord and Savior, that have right doctrine, that state boldly in their doctrinal statements that they believe God has a special relationship with Israel. Inevitably, however, someone will come up after the service, thank me for my message, then proceed to repeat anti-Semitic stereotypes and jokes, or to share personal anecdotes that disparage Jewish people.

Anti-Semitism is a sin that, though present, is not usually recognized within the evangelical church. It is a sin for which we must confess and repent. But in order for this to happen, evangelical anti-Semitism must first be identified and refuted.

What Is Anti-Semitism?

Anti-Semitism is not disliking a person who happens to be Jewish. It is disliking a person because they are Jewish. The International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance (IHRA) defines anti-Semitism as “a certain perception of Jews, which may be expressed as hatred toward Jews.” 

According to the IHRA, anti-Semitism often takes the form of “mendacious, dehumanizing, demonizing, or stereotypical allegations about Jews as such or the power of Jews as collective —such as, especially but not exclusively, the myth about a world Jewish conspiracy or of Jews controlling the media, economy, government or other societal institutions.”

Particularly among evangelicals, anti-Semitism falls into one of three categories: political/economic, social, or theological. Let’s consider each of these categories and how they manifest themselves within the evangelical church.

Political/Economic Anti-Semitism

For some evangelicals, like the man at the church fellowship dinner, the significant role the Jewish people play in our society presents a problem. They view the relative financial success and influence of the American Jewish community, particularly, as sinister—evidence, even, of a conspiracy to control the country and the world. 

When I am confronted with anti-Semitic statements centered on the supposed wealth of Jewish people, I often share the following story. A few years ago, a ministry colleague and I were asked to meet with a Jewish man who had fallen on hard times. He was sleeping at a 7-Eleven at night and hanging out in the sportsbook at a nearby casino by day. The man had not one penny to his name, one of the poorest people I had ever met.

That very evening, I attended a banquet at the Venetian Hotel in Las Vegas. I was the guest of the hotel’s owner, Sheldon Adelson, a Jewish casino magnate and philanthropist, who was, at the time, the 18th wealthiest person on Earth. In one day, I was with the poorest man and the richest man I had ever met, both of them Jewish. This does not exactly match the monolithic picture many anti-Semites have of Jewish people.

How, then, should a Christian understand the relative success and influence of the Jewish people? Frankly, we ought to celebrate it. Scripture makes it clear that all good things come from the Lord (Matthew 5:45; James 1:17). This is especially true of the Jewish people, the descendants of Abraham, whom God promised not only to bless, but to use to bless the entire world (Genesis 12:2–3). If the Lord has chosen to bless His Chosen People with political and financial success, the Christian has no right to question His choice or to harbor feelings of envy. Rather, they should thank God for His goodness to the Jewish people and be grateful that in them, all the families of the earth have been blessed.

We should also understand that just as our churches are composed of people from a variety of socio-economic backgrounds, so too is the Jewish community. No people group is monolithic.

Social Anti-Semitism

While some evangelicals hold anti-Semitic views along political and economic lines, others’ anti-Semitism is based on personal encounters with Jewish people. Often, the anti-Semitism I find in evangelical churches falls into this category. A person recounts a negative interaction with a Jewish person—“This Jewish guy at work was so rude to me once!”—and then extrapolates that encounter to all Jewish people in all places at all times—“Jewish people are rude!”

Such extrapolations are no fairer than saying that all white people are racists, that all capitalists are greedy thieves, or that all evangelicals are judgmental hypocrites. We rightly bristle at such generalizations and stereotypes because, as students of the Scriptures, we know that sin takes place in the individual hearts of men, not in groups. Why, then, do some evangelicals make an exception for blanket criticisms of the Jewish people?

When people sin against us, they do so not because of their ethnicity or cultural background, but because of their sinful heart.

The biblical response involves understanding that when people sin against us, they do so not because of their ethnicity or cultural background, but because of their sinful heart (Jeremiah 17:9). Indeed, sin is the domain of only one race—the human race. 

Theological Anti-Semitism

While all categories of anti-Semitism are repugnant, that which is fueled by theology is, to my thinking, the most heinous of all. How can those who believe that Jesus is the Messiah—the Jewish Messiah of Israel—at the same time reject His people? But that is exactly what some within the evangelical church have done.

One of the most pernicious anti-Semitic theologies is that of Supersessionism, popularly termed Replacement Theology. On this topic, Michael Vlach writes,

Supersessionism… is the view that the New Testament church is the new and/or true Israel that has forever superseded the nation Israel as the people of God. The result is that the church has become the sole inheritor of God’s covenant blessings originally promised to national Israel in the OT. This rules out a future restoration of the nation Israel with a unique identity, role, and purpose that is distinct in any way from the Christian church.

Supersessionism, though unbiblical, has been around since the first centuries of the church’s existence. Early church fathers, such as Justin Martyr (AD 100–165), Tertullian (AD 145–220), and Cyprian (AD 195–258), fueled in part by animosity against the Jewish people, popularized the allegorical interpretation of Scripture, which allowed them to alter the Bible’s references from the Jewish people as Israel to the church. In their view, the Jewish people, in their rejection of Jesus, had forfeited their rights as God’s Chosen People.

Unfortunately, this theological concept did not die with its developers. In their book, The Reduction of Christianity, Christian thinkers Gary DeMar and Peter Leithart espouse this poisonous idea for a modern audience. They write, 

…ethnic Israel was excommunicated for its apostasy and will never again be God’s Kingdom. …The Bible does not tell of any future plan for Israel as a special nation. The Church is now that new nation (Matthew 21:43) which is why Christ destroyed the Jewish state. In destroying Israel, Christ transferred the blessings of the kingdom from Israel to His new people, the Church.

Are those who hold to Supersessionism anti-Semites? Most of them are not. Still, the concept to which they hold is intrinsically anti-Semitic, the product of anti-Semitic Christians of the past.

Another example of theological anti-Semitism within evangelicalism is the view that the Jewish people are uniquely responsible for the death of Jesus. An elderly Jewish friend, a Hungarian Holocaust survivor, remembers the taunts he faced from Gentile children in Budapest. “Christ-killer! Christ-killer!” they shouted at him. Although more than 80 years had passed when he told me about those epithets, they impacted him nonetheless. He was amazed that I, a Christian, loved the Jewish people. “I thought you hated us,” he said.

While most evangelicals do not scream anti-Semitic slurs at Jewish people today, some continue to harbor animosity against Jewish people for the death of Jesus. As one lady said to me at a church, “I just don’t understand how they could kill the Savior!”

If we are thinking biblically about the question of who killed Christ, however, we have to admit that saying that the Jewish people are at fault for the death of Jesus is not accurate. While it is true that the Jewish leadership led the nation in rejecting Jesus and calling for His crucifixion, it is unconscionable to assume that this means every Jewish person of every generation since that time has blood on his or her hands.

If we are going to blame the Jewish people for the death of Christ in perpetuity, we must also blame the Gentiles, because those who nailed Him to the cross were Romans.

Additionally, if we are going to blame the Jewish people for the death of Christ in perpetuity, we must also blame the Gentiles, because those who nailed Him to the cross were Romans. 

In truth, no single ethnic group is responsible for Jesus’ death; we are all responsible. It was our sin debt for which He died on the cross, making it possible for all people to be saved from the power and penalty of sin by faith in Him, “for the Jew first and also for the Greek” (Romans 1:16).

The Solution

What is the solution to evangelical anti-Semitism? I think the answer can be illustrated in an interaction I had with a man at a little Baptist church in the West.

After I finished speaking to the church about God’s love for the Jewish people, the man stood up and said, “Ty, I have a confession to make, one I am not proud about. I am anti-Semitic; I know I am. I have been for a long time for a variety of reasons. But I now see how wrong that is.”

This man recognized his sin for what it was, confessed it, and asked the Lord to help him not to harbor hatred in his heart, especially toward God’s Chosen People. 

The answer to evangelical anti-Semitism is the same as any other sin. It requires that we acknowledge it as sin, confess it to the Lord, and through the grace of God, allow Him to work in our hearts to root it out and to heal. May each of us examine ourselves and ask the Lord to give us the same heart He has for His dear Chosen People.

About the Author

A few weeks ago, I attended the funeral of one of the most respected members of the Las Vegas Jewish community.

Henry Kronberg was 101 when he passed away. Born in Germany in 1920, Henry would humbly share the story of how he survived the Holocaust (or Shoah, as it’s known in Hebrew) with anyone who asked. He grew up in Poland and was forced to do manual labor for the Gestapo. During the last year of the war, he was sent to three different concentration camps before finally being liberated by the Americans on April 11, 1945.

I heard Henry share his survival account several times. In fact, the last time I saw him was in May, when he met with a group of local Christians to tell his story. 

Like many survivors, one of Henry’s concerns was that the memory of what he and millions of other Jewish people endured, and sadly what 6 million Jews did not survive, would not die with the last survivor. 

As I sat in the synagogue at Henry’s funeral, that question arose in my own mind: What will happen when those who survived the Holocaust are no longer here to tell their stories?

I would like to suggest that there are four plausible scenarios.

Scenario 1: Denial

I recently read a book by a young Israeli woman who described meeting and growing interested in a young man from Germany. But when the man found out that the woman was from Israel, things grew tense. 

Despite the woman’s assurances that “all that happened a long time ago,” referring to the Holocaust the German people had perpetrated on the Jewish people, the young man remained uncomfortable. He then said something that stunned the young Israeli. 

“Well, we actually don’t know if it really happened. There are a lot of books that say that it didn’t.”

Although the Israeli woman was shocked, she should not have been. Holocaust denial is alive and well in the world.

According to the Anti-Defamation League (ADL), an organization founded in 1913 to combat anti-Semitism, Holocaust denial is a form of anti-Semitism “that emerged after World War II and which uses pseudo-history to deny the reality of the systematic mass murder of six million Jews by the Nazis and their allies during World War II.”

Holocaust deniers, the ADL continues, “claim that Jews fabricated evidence of their own genocide in order to gain sympathy, extract reparations from Germany and facilitate the alleged illegal acquisition of Palestinian land for the creation of Israel.” 

And the eyewitness testimonies of those who actually experienced the Holocaust? They are “merely propaganda or lies generated by Jews for their own benefit.”

Today, Holocaust denial is no longer the stuff of fringe White Supremacist publications or conspiracy theorists’ websites. It’s gone mainstream.

Holocaust denial is a concerted, intentional rebellion against documented fact and the eyewitness testimony of victims.

Facebook, for example, is a hotbed of anti-Semitic, Holocaust-denial material. It features groups that seek to “debate” the Holocaust or to “revise” Holocaust history.

Sadly, Facebook, which has no problem censoring The Friends of Israel’s posts concerning crisis pregnancy centers and biblical literature, does not recognize Holocaust denial material as violating its “Community Standards.” 

In fact, in a July 2018 interview with Vox, Facebook founder and CEO Mark Zuckerberg actually defended his position on allowing Holocaust denial on his platform. “I’m Jewish,” he said, “and there’s a set of people who deny that the Holocaust happened. I find that deeply offensive. But at the end of the day, I don’t believe that our platform should take that down because I think there are things that different people get wrong. I don’t think that they’re intentionally getting it wrong…”

Evidence, however, would indicate otherwise. Holocaust denial is a concerted, intentional rebellion against documented fact and the eyewitness testimony of victims. Without the presence of Holocaust survivors, such denial may well proliferate.

Scenario 2: Indifference

Elie Weisel was a Nobel laureate, writer, activist, and professor. He was also a survivor of the Shoah. 

One of Weisel’s most chilling statements was his assertion that “[t]he opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference.” 

Think of it. What is worse than not loving? What is more detrimental than hating? It is indifference to the plight of others (see Luke 10:25–37 for Jesus’ condemnation of such behavior).

Time may heal wounds, but it also can make the human heart calloused to the suffering of others.

As time goes on, events of the past tend to fossilize in our hearts and minds; they become as two-dimensional as the black and white photographs that depict them in our textbooks. We may offer a sigh or a grimace when we see these artifacts, but if they do not affect our hearts—if they do not move us to action—then we have begun the process of seeing without feeling, acquiring knowledge without empathizing. We have grown indifferent.

Such indifference will undoubtedly become more common as time goes on and as survivors of the Shoah pass away. Time may heal wounds, but it also can make the human heart calloused to the suffering of others.

Scenario 3: Exploitation

In March of 2021, K. Grigoriadis, a cartoonist for the Greek daily Efimerida Ton Sintakton, came under fire for his cartoon protesting government reforms. The cartoon featured a gate, much like the one at Auschwitz, over which was written, in Greek, “Studies set you free,” mimicking the Auschwitz gate, which says, “Work sets you free.”

But they aren’t the only ones doing it. Take, for example, a Tweet put out by @VeganFoodRecipe: “Do you know why most survivors of the Holocaust are #vegan? It’s because they know what it’s like to be treated like an animal.” Understandably, the Twitter user received backlash from the Jewish community for the thoughtless statement.

And then there are the politicians. People on both sides of the aisle routinely compare members of the opposing party and their policies to Nazis or Nazi laws. Interestingly, voters are good about calling out such statements when they are coming from the party with which they disagree, but not so much when they come from their own side.

The problem with such comparisons is that they become cliché and devalue the experiences of those who survived the actual Holocaust. They also trivialize the horrors and tragic significance of the Holocaust, because they compare it to current events—some of them very serious events—which, nevertheless, pale in comparison to the systematic extermination of 11 million people.

It can, unfortunately, be expected that such comparisons will continue and only grow more common as time goes on.

Scenario 4: Remembrance

My community is blessed to have several Holocaust survivors still living, still telling their stories. One such person is Benjamin Lesser, who has shared his story with everyone from schoolchildren to Ann Curry, host of PBS’s “We’ll Meet Again.” Wherever he goes, he gives out small pins with a word written in Hebrew: Zachor.

Zachor is the Hebrew word for remember. It is the message that Benjamin, Henry, and other survivors have shouted and continue to shout from the rooftops: Remember! Don’t forget what happened! Don’t forget that it can happen again!

The Jewish community will never forget the Holocaust. How could they? The memory and lessons of the Shoah have not only embedded themselves in the lives of Jewish individuals, families, and communities–they have shaped them.

Thankfully, I believe that many non-Jews, particularly Bible-believing Christians, will make the effort to remember the Holocaust, as well. But it is an effort.

We have to exert ourselves ​​to ensure that our children and our children’s children and generations to come not only understand what happened during that dark period of human history, but are able to learn and apply the lessons of that time as well.

Living in the 21st century provides ample resources to educate ourselves on the history of the Shoah. We have museums, libraries, websites, archives, and volume upon volume of both scholarly research and eyewitness testimonies to draw from. 

Conclusion

Denial. Indifference. Exploitation. Remembrance. 

These are the responses we can expect to face as the last generation of Holocaust survivors passes away. These are our choices. 

As for me and my house, we will take to heart God’s command to Israel to remember—zachor—the past.

“Only take heed to yourself, and diligently keep yourself, lest you forget the things your eyes have seen, and lest they depart from your heart all the days of your life. And teach them to your children and your grandchildren…”     
—Deuteronomy 4:9

About the Author

Being Jewish in America is all I know. The reason is simple: I am Jewish, and while my experience may be similar to many other Jewish people, it is also very different. I was born and raised at a particular point in the timeline of American history, a time period that produced an experience entirely different from other generations of American Jews. Thus my experience is distinct from my grandparents’, my parents’, and my children’s.

Fleeing Anti-Semitism

Anti-Semitism was and is a constant bedfellow of the Jewish people. As far back as the book of Esther, godless Gentiles were gunning for Jews just because they were Jews. Esther 3:8 records that Haman told Ahasuerus, “There is a certain people… their laws are different…. Therefore it is not fitting for the king to let them remain.”

Like the Jews in Shushan, my grandparents were four of millions of “different” Jews marginalized in Eastern Europe. Though they lived in different countries, each of them took the courageous action to leave and come to America. America was considered the Goldina Medina (Golden Land) because it was a place where Jews could live free as Jews, worship as Jews, and prosper as Americans. My parents and I became the beneficiaries of their decision. 

America was considered the Goldina Medina (Golden Land) because it was a place where Jews could live free as Jews, worship as Jews, and prosper as Americans.

Fighting Anti-Semitism

My father and uncles often told me stories of their years in the military during World War II. They were justly proud of fighting and defeating the Nazis, liberating Holocaust survivors, and preserving freedom in America. In fact, I was often reminded of the family members lost (my father’s mother lost her mother, several sisters, and other extended family) when the Nazis invaded Poland in September 1939.

Though I was born eight years after WWII ended, the Holocaust was a topic of conversation constantly while I was growing up. My grandparents agonized over it while my parents and relatives referred to it often. I learned about it in my history classes in public school and explored its details in my Jewish studies in Hebrew school. We learned it was brought on by Christians who hated the Jews. We were the Christ killers who the Nazis said poisoned the culture. Though we were taught America was a wonderful place, I was also taught to be on guard and to always be skeptical of the goyim, the Gentiles. 

Fostering Community

I was born in 1953 to first-generation Jewish-American parents, which identifies me as a Jewish baby boomer. I was raised in a middle-class suburb in the Midwestern U.S. and worshiped in an Orthodox synagogue. I ate kosher food, and I attended Hebrew school four days a week and a three-and-a-half-hour Sunday school class each week. I was aware of my Jewishness 24/7. 

I was aware of my Jewishness 24/7.

My neighborhood was made up mostly of Jewish households, with multiple synagogues, delis, a couple of kosher butcher shops, and a large Jewish book store. Our families were closely linked through major life-cycle events such as births and circumcisions, Bar Mitzvahs, marriages, and deaths. My Bar Mitzvah reception was like a wedding: Everyone was dressed up, we were in a hall, ate catered food, and had a band for entertainment. Most of my friends celebrated in a similar way. We knew these rites of passage were different from what the goyim did. Everything about us was different: food, worship (one God, no man-god), even language—my parents often spoke Yiddish. 

Featuring Feast Days 

The seven biblical feast days of Leviticus 23 are very important in Judaism. Each of them is significant and honored, but three of them (Passover, Rosh Hashanah, and Yom Kippur) were fundamental within my family. They required a combination of synagogue attendance, eating or not eating certain foods, and staying home from school or work. Other minor festivals such as Purim (from the book of Esther) and Hanukkah were also important holidays. 

Foods Uniquely Jewish

My college experience was a breakout time for me. By that I mean I left home to live on campus and, as a teenager in the late 1960s and early ’70s, I desired to embrace the world—the Gentile world. I dated Gentile girls for the first time and lived with people who had no idea what Jewish people were like. While I certainly compromised my Judaism, I never compromised my identity. It was at this time I heard the gospel but it did not sound like Good News: “Believe in Jesus or hell awaits you.” Wow, I thought, no way I would believe in the One responsible for so much trouble for my people. 

I thank the Lord for His sovereignty. I know I was born at the right place at the right time. My Jewish-American experience was wonderful. I learned I was part of a people chosen by God, givers of the Scripture, who looked for one of their own who would redeem them. I looked for the Messiah every Passover and hoped to see His day. American life is a privilege brought about by the blood, sweat, and tears of many who sacrificed for my way of life. America provided a place for freedom of speech and religion, and thus I benefited as a Jew who heard and finally believed the gospel. What a blessing!

About the Author