In my teaching at the Hebrew University, in a course on religious education in Israel in the context of conflict, I recently witnessed a moment of awakening among my students. The discussion was not abstract; it was triggered by events that forced attention.
Reports of damage to Christian sites in southern Lebanon, including the destruction of symbols such as Saint George and the desecration of crosses, alongside the widely publicized attack on a nun in Jerusalem, brought a sudden alertness, particularly in the Western world, to the vulnerability of Christians in this region.
“We love Christians, we hate Christianity.”
For many around the world, this was a moment of surprise. For others, especially local Christians, it was not. It was within this context that I shared with my students a phrase often repeated by a Jewish-Israeli educator: “We love Christians, we hate Christianity.” The discussion that followed revealed how deeply this paradox continues to shape attitudes, policies, and lived realities in the land.
From its earliest decades, the State of Israel developed a dual posture toward Christianity that continues to influence attitudes today. On one level, the young state understood the importance of Western, largely Christian, support.
In the aftermath of the Holocaust, many churches in Europe and North America expressed solidarity with the Jewish people, often accompanied by a sense of moral responsibility. This translated into political backing, financial assistance, and theological support for the establishment and security of Israel. Outwardly, then, Christianity, especially Western Christianity, was approached with respect and strategic openness.
Christianity... viewed with theological suspicion.
Yet internally, a different dynamic unfolded. Within parts of Israeli society, particularly among certain streams of religious Zionism and within broader expressions shaped by rabbinic tradition, Christianity continued to be viewed with theological suspicion.
Historically, this suspicion developed in a context where Jews were a vulnerable minority under Christian rule. But in Israel, the context has changed. Jews now hold sovereignty, institutional power, and cultural dominance. Theological perceptions that once functioned defensively are now expressed within a framework of power.
Christian Zionism is highly valued and often publicly affirmed.
This tension is perhaps most visible in Israel’s relationship with Christian Zionists. On the one hand, Christian Zionist movements, particularly in the United States, provide significant political advocacy, financial contributions, tourism, and diplomatic support for the State of Israel. This support is highly valued and often publicly affirmed. Israeli leaders and institutions frequently engage warmly with these groups, recognizing their influence in shaping Western public opinion and policy.
There remains a deep unease within many Jewish religious and intellectual circles regarding Christian Zionist theology.
On the other hand, there remains a deep unease within many Jewish religious and intellectual circles regarding Christian Zionist theology, especially its eschatological dimensions. The end-times scenarios held by many Christian Zionists are not only theologically foreign but, to some, deeply troubling. As a result, a quiet dissonance emerges: public partnership coexists with private skepticism.
Christian Zionists may be welcomed as allies in formal settings, while their beliefs are treated with discomfort, or even quiet ridicule, in less public spaces. The relationship, therefore, reflects not theological partnership, but strategic alignment.
This dynamic is further reinforced by a broader political narrative frequently used in Western discourse: the idea of a shared “Judeo-Christian civilization” standing in contrast to an “Islamic world.” While rhetorically powerful, this framing is deeply misleading when applied to the realities of this land.
It collapses complex identities into civilizational blocs and obscures lived realities. In practice, the situation is not one of Jews and Christians aligned against Muslims, but a political and national conflict between Israeli Jews and Palestinians—among whom are both Muslims and Christians.
Ideas are no longer confined to texts or debates; they shape behavior in public space.
This shift is crucial. Ideas are no longer confined to publications or debates; they shape behavior in public space. In recent years, this has become increasingly visible. Incidents involving harassment of Christian clergy, vandalism of churches, and hostility toward pilgrims, especially in Jerusalem, have drawn growing attention.
Among these, one recurring and deeply symbolic act stands out: the practice of spitting at Christian clergy and pilgrims, particularly reported in areas such as the Armenian Quarter and around Mount Zion, where encounters with yeshiva students have been documente d.
While some explanations frame this behavior as a residual cultural reaction rooted in Jewish experiences of humiliation under Christian Europe, this alone is insufficient. There are also linguistic and theological dimensions that give this act deeper meaning.
A view of Christians as spiritually empty or lacking true substance.
In Hebrew, the term “yirak” (to spit) resonates with associations of rejection and contempt, and has been linked in some interpretations to the idea of “rik”—emptiness. Within certain strands of perception, this can reflect a view of Christians as spiritually empty or lacking true substance. Such notions, even if not formally articulated in doctrine, can shape cultural attitudes in subtle but powerful ways.
From a Christian perspective, the gravity of such language and symbolism is strikingly addressed in the teachings of Jesus himself. In the Gospel of Matthew 5:22, he warns that calling one’s brother “Raca” (an Aramaic term conveying emptiness or worthlessness) is a moral offense of the highest order, placing it in parallel with violence against the person.
To declare another human being “empty” is to deny their dignity and humanity.
The connection here is not merely linguistic but ethical: to declare another human being “empty” is to deny their dignity and humanity. When such perceptions move from language into embodied actions, such as spitting, they become not only expressions of contempt, but enactments of dehumanization.
Non-Jewish communities are often perceived through lenses of difference, suspicion, and exclusion.
At the same time, this pattern is not limited to Christians alone. Palestinian Christians consistently emphasize that they are first treated as Palestinians within the broader political framework. Palestinian Muslims likewise face restrictions, tensions, and attacks on their communities and holy places. What Christians experience is part of a wider posture toward the “other,” in which non-Jewish communities are often perceived through lenses of difference, suspicion, and exclusion.
It is precisely here that Western awareness has often come too late. Many Western Christians expressed alarm only when attacks on churches and clergy became visible. Yet these developments followed years of pressure affecting Palestinian Muslim and Christian prayer at their holy sites.
The pattern was already evident when one community is marginalized or attacked, such dynamics rarely remain contained. The vulnerability of one group often signals the future vulnerability of others.
Indigenous communities... exist at the intersection of multiple vulnerabilities.
For Palestinian Christians, these developments are therefore not surprising. They are the continuation, and intensification, of a long-standing experience. As indigenous communities, they exist at the intersection of multiple vulnerabilities.
Education plays a decisive and formative role in shaping these realities. While state frameworks may present Christianity in limited or historical terms, Orthodox and especially ultra-Orthodox educational systems can present it in far more exclusionary ways.
In these contexts, Christianity may be categorized using terms such as avodah zarah (idolatry/paganism), reinforcing the perception that Christian faith and symbols are not only different, but illegitimate.
When such educational frameworks intersect with the current political landscape—where national-religious Zionist groups hold significant influence—the effect becomes more pronounced. These ideas move from classrooms into public attitudes and behavior, shaping how Christians are seen and treated in everyday life.
Israeli society is diverse.
It is important to acknowledge that Israeli society is diverse, and several Jewish individuals and organizations, such as the Rossing Centre for Education and Dialogue, actively work toward tolerance. However, these efforts exist alongside deeper structural and ideological dynamics.
For Palestinian Christians, the issue is not theoretical but lived. It concerns dignity, safety, and survival. Western Christian silence and delayed awareness have contributed to this reality.
The moral challenge, therefore, is not abstract. It requires recognizing that language, education, and power are deeply intertwined, and that the dehumanization of any group begins with how they are named, perceived, and taught.
A tension that inevitably manifests in social reality.
In the end, the paradox cannot remain unresolved. To claim love for a people while rejecting their faith, or diminishing their presence, creates a tension that inevitably manifests in social reality.
Understanding the other, in this land, is not merely an intellectual exercise. It is a moral responsibility. And when that responsibility is neglected, the consequences are lived, daily, by those whose presence is increasingly fragile.
Professor Dr. Salim J. Munayer is the founder of Musalaha, an organization dedicated to fostering reconciliation between Palestinians and Israelis and other divided communities in the Middle East. He served for several years as Academic Dean at Bethlehem Bible College and has authored several theological books focusing on theology, reconciliation, and justice. Professor Munayer currently serves as the Coordinator for the MENA region for the Peace and Reconciliation Network (PRN) of the World Evangelical Alliance (WEA).
