Anti-Semitism: It’s not what we’ve done wrong, but what we’ve done right

Following Holocaust Remembrance Day, a leading Jewish organization combating antisemitism revealed that incidents of Jew-hatred and violence are at their highest since the Holocaust. This sobering reality forces us to confront an enduring and painful question: Why is there such deep-rooted hatred toward the Jewish people?
Some might argue that antisemitism stems from centuries of Church indoctrination, teaching that Jews were responsible for the death of their god and prophet. While the church is absolutely responsible for inciting Jewish hatred, if that were the root cause, why have Jews been persecuted for generations by Muslims, who do not even believe in that crucified deity?

Others claim the hatred arises because of the State of Israel, seen by some as an occupying force. But if that's the case, how do we explain the violent pogroms against Jews in nearly every Arab country long before the modern Jewish state ever existed?

Could it be about race? That doesn't hold either. Jews come from every continent and reflect the appearance, language, and customs of the societies they lived in. Sephardic Jews ate the same food as their neighbors, and so did European Jews.

Perhaps it's about being visibly different—like the Chassidic Jews who dress in distinct traditional garb. But then again, the most virulent Jew-hatred of the last century came from Germany, where Jews largely looked and acted just like everyone else.

So what, then, is the reason?
Chief Rabbi of Israel, Rabbi Yisrael Meir Lau Shlita, shed some light on this phenomenon:
"In advance of the International Holocaust Remembrance Day ceremony in 2009, I received an official invitation to speak at the United Nations General Assembly. It wasn't the first time, but this time the topic was defined. I was asked to deliver a lecture on 'the causes and reasons behind global antisemitism,'" Rabbi Lau recounts.

A single question hovered in the air, one I was asked to attempt to answer: What causes the Jewish people to be persecuted for generations over thousands of years?

I stood at the podium, facing representatives from many countries and nations. The moment itself dictated the words 'Ladies and gentlemen,' I began, 'if you examine the story of the Jewish people, both its near and distant past, you’ll discover the answer to your question. I’ve done it for you. I looked into this complex story and formed a clear conclusion.'

Antisemitism has no logical explanation! One cannot rationally explain the roots of Jew-hatred and persecution of the Jewish people. I tell you—don’t even try,'" said Rabbi Lau firmly, and he offered the following proof.
I was a Jewish child born in Poland. Around us lived tens of thousands of Jews—citizens of Poland—who were easily identifiable. They had long beards and prominent sidecurls, wore distinctive kapotes, donned hats or shtreimels, and spoke mainly Yiddish. In short, we were visibly different from the rest of the population.
Often we heard harsh criticism. It was claimed that our insistence on remaining separate—through our names, language, clothing, and culture—was what fueled the hatred. And honestly, many among us tended to believe that. The thought was that if only we would get rid of the shtreimel and kapote, start speaking Polish, and integrate into public roles, everything would change for the better. The hatred would end, the neighbors would learn to appreciate our talent and knowledge, and antisemitism would disappear.

Just a few kilometers from our home,' Rabbi Lau continued telling the ambassadors, 'lay the German empire. There too lived tens of thousands of Jews. But they behaved entirely differently. For hundreds of years, they were careful not to wear kapotes or shtreimels. They shaved their beards, dressed accordingly, spoke refined German—more polished than the Germans themselves—read Goethe and Schiller, and strove to integrate in every sphere.

Thousands of Jews in Germany and Austria fought shoulder to shoulder with their fellow Germans in World War I. Others became part of the high culture industry, composed works, performed music—not to mention the layer of bankers who supported the national economy, and the scientists and scholars who advanced higher education, research, and modern science.

Amazingly, these Jews were met with the exact opposite accusations. Everyone claimed they were going too far, that they needed to be more modest and not take over the country. The Protocols of the Elders of Zion portrayed them as plotting to dominate culture and the economy, and we all know how that ended.
In Poland, they hated us for being different. In Germany, they persecuted us for being the same, Rabbi Lau cried out in pain.

They threw us out of Europe because we were guests, and they hate us because we act like natives.
And here’s another piece of evidence, another memory from Rabbi Lau’s childhood: "In almost every subway station across Europe, you could find graffiti in various languages: 'Jews, go to Palestine.' As a small child, I saw that phrase in at least four languages, including French," he told the nations’ representatives.

There was a certain claim in that. They hated us because we were subtenants in a house not our own. Painful as it was, there were moments we almost believed the cry of our neighbors, who shouted at us: 'Get out of our country. Establish your own home, and we will respect you. Just don’t live at our expense.'

Years passed, and we returned home. We survived the Holocaust, and all we wanted was to go to our land. And what do you know? Suddenly, the gates were closed. We had to sneak in on illegal immigrant boats, smuggle across borders, and struggle.

After we finally arrived and settled in our home, nothing helped. Just two and a half years after the Holocaust, we found ourselves facing seven Arab armies seeking to throw us into the sea, and we were horrified to see the world silent once again.

They threw us out of Europe because we were guests, and they hate us because we act like homeowners.'
These contradictions only deepen. In Russia, they persecuted us because we were perceived as capitalists. In Germany, they hated us because we were communists. And to this day, look at the college campuses in Europe and the U.S.—on the surface, there is no visible difference between Jewish students and their peers, yet they are hated.

I have no other explanation but this," Rabbi Lau concluded his painful speech, "antisemitism is a collective mental illness. Don’t try to find a logical explanation."

Although Rabbi Lau shlit”a didn’t offer a specific explanation, I believe there is one common thread that may lie at the root of this hatred: Jewish success. Throughout history and across the globe, Jews have consistently excelled—intellectually, financially, professionally, and spiritually. And success, more often than not, breeds jealousy.

As someone once pointed out, in a classroom, it’s not the top student who mocks those who struggle—it’s usually the other way around, those who feel left behind are the ones who lash out at the good students.
This pattern repeats itself on a national scale. The Jewish people have long been successful—not just materially, but in wisdom, ethics, and cultural contribution. We have a rich heritage, a deep and meaningful religion, and an undeniable presence in the fields of education, business, science, and the arts. Even in appearance, Jewish boys and girls are often blessed with a refined and dignified look.

Perhaps it’s not what we’ve done wrong that draws hatred, but what we’ve done right.

I always remember the way King David expresses it in Tehillim (chapter 144). He begins by describing his readiness for battle, and then shifts to highlighting the differences between the Jewish people and their enemies. What’s the connection? King David is teaching us that this clear distinction—between our values, character, and way of life and that of our enemies—provokes jealousy and resentment, which ultimately lead to conflict. He fights not for conquest, but to defend his people from those who cannot tolerate that difference.
The pasuk states: "For our sons are like saplings, nurtured from their youth; our daughters like cornerstones, fashioned in the form of a palace."

King David draws attention to the nobility of the next generation—our sons, growing straight and handsom; our daughters, dignified and refined.

One doesn’t even need elaborate commentary to grasp this truth. Just look at the Jewish youth in colleges and yeshivot, and compare them to the universities protesters—or rather, rioters. Our youth are modest, respectful, well-mannered, and refined. The contrast couldn’t be starker, even just externally. But more than that, the internal difference—values, purpose, and morality—is even greater.

The next pasuk says: "Our storehouses are full, overflowing with all kinds of produce; our flocks multiply by thousands and tens of thousands in our fields."

Here, David Hamelech notes the material blessing and prosperity that follow the Jewish people. We are builders of life, not destroyers. We cultivate, develop, and enrich the world. We are blessed with professionals in every field — medicine, law, education, finance, engineering, science, technology, the arts, and beyond. In contrast, our enemies invest in destruction. Israel’s transformation into a global hub of innovation and development in just over seventy years is a living example of this pasuk.

Then he shifts to leadership: "Our leaders carry themselves with dignity; there is no breach, no going out, and no outcry in our streets."

Jewish leadership, at its core, is rooted in Torah—guided by righteous scholars and moral clarity. In contrast, the leaders of our enemies often incite violence, exploit their own people, and hide behind civilians while calling for war. While their leaders are busy blaming others for their misfortunes, often the result of their own destructive actions, our leaders teach us not to cry or blame others, but to strive for excellence.

These are just a few of the many distinctions between good and evil—but they are enough to stir envy, and that envy often leads to hatred and violence.