Last night, during my Torah class, a student sent me a photo of a wooden post on the boardwalk here in Jupiter, Florida. Scribbled across it in crude, violent letters were the words: “Kill the Jews.”
It hit me in the chest. That burning, sickening feeling - rage mixed with sorrow - only a Jew can understand. We stare at those words and feel history knocking on the door again. It’s a dagger to the heart of our collective identity. It quickens our pulse and races our thoughts. We’ve been here before - too many times.
Antisemitism is not new. It morphs, adapts, and resurfaces in every generation. Whether it’s Pharaoh or Haman, the Inquisition or the Nazis, anti-Jewish hatred has never truly disappeared. It’s part of the dark undercurrent that runs through human history - irrational, unprovoked, and deadly. And yet, while anti-Semitic violence and rhetoric are once again on the rise worldwide, the Jewish people are still here. For thousands of years, against unimaginable odds, we’ve endured as a nation, a people, and a covenantal family bound to God.
But there’s a quiet threat now, one that kills us not with guns, slogans, or bombs - but with smiles, love songs, and cultural blending. It is assimilation. It is intermarriage. And it is succeeding where antisemitism has failed.
There’s a story from the life of Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneerson, the sixth Lubavitcher Rebbe, that captures what true Jewish strength looks like. While imprisoned by Soviet authorities for promoting Jewish learning and refusing to betray his fellow activists, he was confronted by a Jewish communist officer who pointed a revolver at him and sneered, “This little toy has made many people talk.”
The Rebbe looked him in the eye and replied, “That toy frightens only those who have two gods and one world. But for one who believes in one God and two worlds, it means nothing.”
That answer captures the essence of Jewish resilience. Our enemies can threaten our bodies, our freedom, and our comfort. But they cannot touch our soul - unless we hand it over ourselves.
Antisemitism can kill Jews, but it cannot kill Judaism. Intermarriage can. Antisemitism forces the world to remember that we are different; intermarriage erases that difference altogether.
At worst, antisemitism sends Jewish souls to Heaven. Intermarriage prevents their descendants from ever being born Jewish in the first place.In the United States today, the intermarriage crisis is one of the most severe threats the Jewish people have ever faced - and unlike antisemitism, it is entirely self-inflicted.
According to data from Pew Research (updated through 2024-2025):
Overall: 42% of all currently married Jewish adults in America have a non-Jewish spouse. Newlyweds since 2010: A shocking 61% have married outside the faith.
By denomination: Among Orthodox Jews, intermarriage is roughly 2%. Among Reform, Conservative, and unaffiliated Jews, the rate skyrockets to about 72%. Among “Jews of no religion”: It reaches 79%.
The pattern is crystal clear. The more authentic, consistent, and immersive the Jewish education and way of life, the lower the assimilation rate. Jewish continuity isn’t genetically inherited - it’s transmitted through conviction, knowledge, and commitment.
When Jewish leaders and institutions soften their stance on intermarriage - or worse, “celebrate” it in the name of inclusivity - they unintentionally contribute to the slow self-destruction of the Jewish nation. Every wedding between a Jew and a non-Jew that doesn’t result in genuine conversion under Halakhah isn’t just a personal matter; it’s a rupture in the eternal chain of Jewish continuity that extends from Abraham and Sarah to our day.
Jews cry out in outrage when anti-Semitic slogans appear in the streets, as we should. It is horrifying to see such blunt, shameless hatred. But if a swastika on a wall provokes outrage while an interfaith wedding invites applause, our moral compass is dangerously off course.
Antisemitism shakes us. It reminds us that we are Jews. It pushes some of us back to the synagogue, to tefillin, to the mezuzah, and to Torah study. Strangely, it has kept our identity alive. Across generations, rabbis have noted that external hatred often reignites internal strength. But intermarriage - quiet, subtle, “harmless” - tears apart Jewish identity without a sound. It doesn’t make headlines. It makes genealogies disappear.
The miracle of Hanukkah is not only about oil and flames that burned beyond expectation. It’s also the story of Jewish identity under siege from within. The armies the Maccabees fought were not merely foreign soldiers; their greatest battle was against fellow Jews who had embraced Hellenism - Greek philosophy, culture, and lifestyle. The vast majority of Jews at the time were not fighting the Greeks. They were trying to blend in with them.
Judah Maccabee and his brothers fought not for political independence but for spiritual survival. They defended the covenant - the holy stubbornness of Jewish distinctiveness. In that sense, Hanukkah is the festival of Jewish resistance to assimilation. Every candle we light is a declaration: We will not disappear into the surrounding culture. We will not surrender to comfort.
The same message echoes through every chapter of Jewish history. The fast of the Tenth of Tevet commemorates the beginning of the siege of Jerusalem - not merely a military siege but the moral decay that preceded it. As our prayers say, the destruction came because Jews had “turned from the words of the prophets.” The siege was God’s way of waking His people. The fall did not begin with Babylonian swords; it began with spiritual erosion.
Calling intermarriage “antisemitism” may seem shocking. But think deeply. Antisemitism says, “The Jews should not live.” Intermarriage says, “The Jews should not exist.” The first attacks the Jewish body; the second annihilates the Jewish soul. One leaves graves; the other leaves nothing - no names, no traditions, no children who know who they are.
This form of self-inflicted hatred stems not from malice but from apathy - a belief that “it doesn’t really matter.” But that’s precisely how extinction happens: quietly, incrementally, without drama. Every generation that fails to pass down the Torah adds cracks to the wall of eternity until, one day, there’s nothing left standing.
We can’t claim to fight antisemitism while ignoring the crisis of assimilation. To tremble at a hateful tweet yet shrug when our children marry out is a moral contradiction. You can’t light menorahs, cry for Israel, tweet #NeverAgain, and then teach your grandchildren nothing about Shabbat, kosher food, or what it truly means to be part of Am Yisrael Chai.
If we are genuinely disturbed by Jew-hatred in the world, we must first look inward. Are we doing what is necessary to keep Judaism alive in our homes, communities, and families?
Antisemitism may make us victims, but assimilation makes us accomplices.
Fighting assimilation doesn’t mean rejecting the modern world. It means embracing our ancient wisdom with modern resolve. It means investing in Jewish education, Torah learning, and authentic community life. It means teaching our children not only to be proud to be Jewish but also to understand why it matters. It means living as if the covenant with God given at Sinai still binds us - because it does.
As Rabbi Jonathan Sacks put it, “Non-Jews respect Jews who respect Judaism.” The world may not always love us, but it recognizes authenticity. When Jews stand for something eternal, firm, and sacred - when we are unapologetically Jewish - even our enemies take notice. But when we dissolve into the melting pot, we become invisible. And an invisible people cannot survive.
So yes - antisemitism is evil, but it cannot destroy us. Intermarriage can. Antisemitism is graffiti; intermarriage erases legacies. And while one is inflicted upon us, the other is chosen.
If you are Jewish and troubled by the hate in this world, let your response be not fear but commitment. The most defiant thing a Jew can do in the face of antisemitism is to light another Shabbat candle, send another child to a Jewish school, and build another Jewish home - with a Jewish spouse - grounded in Torah.
That is how we fight back. That is how we win. That is how we survive - forever.
I can be reached at rsezagui@gmail.com