How the hostility after October 7 led to Christians becoming like family to me
As also published September 30, 2026 on Revive.nl
There are days when I wonder how much further it can go. How much more normalized antisemitism can become. How many more boundaries can shift. Because every time I think: surely we have reached rock bottom now, something happens again that I could not have imagined a few years ago would be possible in the Netherlands.
But something else has also been happening since October 7, 2023.
While the distance between Jews and a part of society seems to be growing, other people are actually drawing closer. People whose role I could never have imagined before October 7 would play in my life. Christians.
In a period when, as a Jewish woman, I sometimes feel like a stranger in my own country, a connection is simultaneously emerging that I did not know at all before.
Conspiracy theories
Antisemitism is on the rise. Centuries-old conspiracy theories are returning. Jews are held collectively responsible for events thousands of kilometers away. Statements that would be unacceptable regarding any other minority suddenly seem open for discussion when it comes to Jews.
Sometimes it feels very simple: Everything that is forbidden is suddenly allowed when it comes to Jews.
And it has long ceased to remain on social media. It is on the streets and entering our daily lives. “Hamas, Hamas, Jews to the gas.” “Cancerous Jew.” “They forgot to gas you.” We see the glorification of Hamas, extremist symbolism, and the same old antisemitism that apparently never truly disappeared.
Wearing a Star of David visibly is no longer a given. Jewish schools require heavy security. We are considering speaking Hebrew in the street and even a mezuzah on the front door.
And our children are learning something I never wanted to pass on: when it is wiser not to be visibly Jewish. My own daughter takes off her Star of David at school because it is not safe to wear it there.
This is not a history lesson. This is our life in the Netherlands, now. And precisely in the midst of that reality, I discover how deep the commitment of a large group of Christians to us is.
Group of Christians
In late November last year, I traveled through Israel with a group of nearly forty Christians. There were only two Jewish participants. We visited Kibbutz Be'eri, stood at the site of the Nova festival, saw the collected burnt-out cars, and heard stories that are almost incomprehensible.
But what has perhaps stayed with me the most are the people I stood there with. People who not only said, “We stand behind Israel,” but actually stood beside me.
That journey changed something in me. And what began there, I now experience ever more strongly.
It feels less and less like “us” and “them”. In fact, something is happening that I myself sometimes find almost bizarre.
They stand up for me. And I stand up for them.
When Jews are attacked, Christians stand beside us. When Christians are mocked, slandered, or attacked because they stand alongside Israel and the Jewish community, I notice that I stand up for them. Perhaps that is what family does.
We do not accept this.
And it does not stop at words. One of the moments when I experience this very strongly is during Op de Bres voor Israël. Jacques Brunt set up this initiative after October 7, and this year the demonstration took place on Dam Square for the third time. Primarily Christians, but also many Jews, came to Amsterdam by bus from all over the Netherlands and even from Belgium.
Their message was simple: we do not accept this. We will not leave you alone. We stand by you.
We were surrounded by counter-demonstrations and hostility, but on Dam Square itself, something totally different was happening. There was love, solidarity, and connection. It felt as if Hashem let us experience, right there in the middle of Dam Square, for a moment, that we were not alone.
That moves and encourages me deeply. I also experience that sense of connection during the solidarity walks. I speak frequently throughout the country and regularly participate. As a result, I visit cities and villages where I sometimes didn't even know that a thriving Jewish community existed before the Shoah.
You hear about the families who lived there, the synagogue, the shops, the children who went to school there. Jewish life that was once a natural part of such a place.
Murdered
And then you hear how much of that disappeared after the Shoah. In some places, virtually no one returned. Entire families had been murdered. For some survivors, the emptiness was too great to rebuild a life there of all places.
And it is precisely in those places that I now walk alongside primarily Christians who say: we see you, we stand beside you, and we want you to stay. Meanwhile, organizations like Christians for Israel are also facing boycotts, protests, and hostility, yet they continue.
And it is precisely these Christians who are sometimes accused of having a hidden theological motive behind their involvement with Jews. That they supposedly ultimately want all Jews to leave for Israel.
As a Jewish woman who now spends close time with these people, I do not recognize that picture at all.
On the contrary. They do not stand beside me because they want me to leave. They stand beside me because they do not want me to have to leave. That difference is essential. My family lives today partly because, during the darkest period of our history, there were people who stood up. Who helped Jews, at the risk of their own lives.
Excluded
I am not comparing the Netherlands of today with the world of the past. But the same human question remains relevant: what do you do when you see someone else being excluded?
Are you looking away?
Or are you going to stand next to it?
It is said: first comes Saturday, then Sunday. Perhaps I understand those words now better than ever. We need each other.
The growing antisemitism worries me more than anything. Especially when I look at my children. But at the same time, I feel less alone. Because there are people who walk alongside me. Who call. Who pray. Who speak when others are silent.
And by now, I do the same for them. Where I used to see Christians, I now see friends. Allies. Family. They stand up for us. And when necessary, I stand up for them. We have found each other. And we will not let go of each other.