AIPAC, Antisemitism, and the Christian Responsibility to Stand with the Jewish People
Something revealing happened in New York City politics recently. Zohran Mamdani, the newly elected mayor, publicly labeled AIPAC — the American Israel Public Affairs Committee, one of the most prominent pro-Israel advocacy organizations in the United States — "dark money monsters." He doubled down when accused of antisemitism. And his fellow Democrats, for the most part, stayed silent.
That silence is the story. Not just politically. Spiritually.
Because when powerful voices attack institutions that exist to advocate for the Jewish people, and the room goes quiet, something ancient and dangerous is being normalized. And followers of Jesus Christ — people whose entire faith is rooted in a Jewish Savior, a Jewish text, and a Jewish covenant — have a particular obligation to speak.
The Long History Behind a Short Silence
Antisemitism does not always arrive wearing a uniform. It does not always announce itself. More often, it wears the costume of political critique, legitimate grievance, or righteous opposition to power. That is precisely what makes it so persistent and so deadly across centuries.
The accusation leveled at Mamdani is not that he disagreed with AIPAC's political positions — disagreement with any lobbying organization is entirely legitimate in a democratic society. The accusation is that the language used, and the framing employed, crossed a line into something older and uglier. Describing a Jewish-affiliated advocacy group as monstrous creatures of dark money carries a resonance that does not exist in a vacuum. It lands against a backdrop of centuries of conspiracy, dehumanization, and violence directed at Jewish communities.
When those accusations were raised, his fellow Democrats went quiet. No correction. No pushback. No pastoral care for a community that has every historical reason to feel the weight of those words.
"I will bless those who bless you, and whoever curses you I will curse; and all peoples on earth will be blessed through you." — Genesis 12:3
That is not a political statement. It is a theological one. And it has never stopped being true.
What Christians Believe About the Jewish People
Christian theology is not antisemitism-neutral. It takes a clear and irreversible position. The God of the Bible made an everlasting covenant with Abraham, with Isaac, with Jacob. He chose a people. He gave them a land, a law, a lineage, and through that lineage He sent His own Son into the world. Every page of the New Testament was written by Jewish hands. The Psalms that anchor Christian worship are Jewish poetry. The Lord's Prayer flows from Jewish liturgical tradition. The Eucharist is a Passover meal.
To be a Christian and harbor indifference to the fate of the Jewish people is to be at war with your own foundation.
And yet, tragically, the Church has not always lived up to this. The Crusades. The Inquisition. The silence of many European churches during the Holocaust. Christians carrying crosses and crosses being used to terrorize. This history demands humility. It also demands that the contemporary Church not repeat the error of silence when it is most costly.
This is not about partisan politics. This is not about endorsing every policy position of every Israeli government or every decision made by any lobbying organization. Christians can hold complex, nuanced positions on foreign policy. But there is a difference between policy disagreement and the kind of rhetoric that frames Jewish advocacy as monstrous. One is democracy. The other is something the Church should recognize and name.
The Spiritual Cost of Political Cowardice
The silence of Mamdani's fellow Democrats deserves its own examination — not as a partisan point, but as a human one. Political cowardice has a spiritual cost. When leaders who know better stay quiet because speaking is inconvenient, because their coalition might fracture, because the moment feels complicated — they are not being pragmatic. They are being complicit.
The prophet Isaiah did not offer measured, carefully-triangulated political statements when injustice appeared. Amos did not wait to see which way the cultural wind was blowing before he spoke. John the Baptist did not temper his words to avoid alienating the powerful. The prophetic tradition within Scripture is not a tradition of cautious silence. It is a tradition of costly speech.
Christians are called into that tradition. Not to be aggressive, not to be partisan, not to weaponize faith for political theater — but to name what is true, clearly and without apology, even when the room goes quiet around them.
"Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute. Speak up and judge fairly; defend the rights of the poor and needy." — Proverbs 31:8-9
The Jewish community in America is not destitute in a material sense. But when political rhetoric slides toward dehumanization and prominent voices stay silent, a community's sense of safety and belonging becomes genuinely vulnerable. That is worth speaking about.
Distinguishing Policy Critique from Something Darker
Let us be precise here, because precision matters. Criticizing AIPAC's political influence, fundraising strategies, or policy positions is not inherently antisemitic. AIPAC is a political organization. Political organizations are subject to scrutiny, criticism, and democratic opposition. This is how free societies function.
The concern arises when the language of that critique mirrors historical antisemitic tropes — shadowy financial power, monstrous control, sinister influence operating behind the scenes. These are not neutral descriptors. They carry centuries of blood-soaked meaning. And the response to that concern — doubling down rather than reflecting, defending rather than listening — reveals something about the spirit in which the original words were offered.
Christians are not required to be uncritical supporters of every political position associated with Jewish communities or Israeli policy. But they are required to be honest about what certain kinds of language do and where it leads. History is not ambiguous on this point.
What the Church Must Do Now
The Christian response to this moment is not complicated, even if it is costly. It begins with education. Most Christians in the West have only a surface-level understanding of the history of antisemitism and the Church's role within it. That ignorance is no longer excusable. Pastors must teach it. Congregations must reckon with it.
It continues with voice. When rhetoric that demeans or dehumanizes Jewish people or Jewish-affiliated institutions enters public discourse, the Church should be among the first to say clearly: this is not acceptable. Not because we are political actors, but because we are theological ones. We know who these people are in the story of God. We know what has happened when the world forgot.
It deepens with relationship. Some of the most important work in combating antisemitism happens not in op-eds or social media posts but in genuine, sustained friendship between Christian and Jewish communities. Shared prayer. Shared grief. Shared memory. This is the kind of solidarity that cannot be faked and cannot be easily dismantled.
And it is anchored in prayer. Christians should be praying for the peace of Jerusalem, for the safety of Jewish communities around the world, and for the courage of political leaders — regardless of party — to refuse the comfort of silence when it matters most.
The room went quiet when it should have spoken. The Church does not have to make that same choice.
We know better. We were taught by a Jewish rabbi who died outside the walls of the city He wept over. We hold His words in our hands. And His words have never permitted us the luxury of a comfortable silence in the face of hatred dressed as politics.
Stand firm. Speak clearly. Bless those whom God has blessed.