“Zionism equals terrorism,” the letters on the graffitied wall in downtown Rome boldly proclaimed. “All Zionists are bastards,” read another. Stickers of Palestinian flags and portrayals of Israeli soldiers holding flags dripping with blood are just a few examples of the antisemitic environment that a group of Jewish and pro-Israel students from across Canada stumbled upon as we entered the ancient city of Rome this past June. We had come to learn Jewish history in Italy and build meaningful bonds as students, planning our strategy for the upcoming year to fight antisemitism and stand up for Israel on our respective campuses.
Our presence in Italy was altogether unexpected. Originally, our trip’s destination was Israel, but the commencement of the 12 Day War caused our plans to take a dramatic turn. Jewish history in Italy cannot compare to Israel, but it served as a solid second choice with sites like Titus’ Arch, the Great Synagogue of Rome, and the Jewish Ghettos—which was the reality for most of Jewish existence in Italy. A few students in our group were forced to remain in Israel, hiding out in bomb shelters, unable to leave the country to join our Italy cohort.
University campuses have become frontlines in the battle against antisemitic hate. Many students who took part in our excursion to Italy faced difficult situations and open hatred on their own campuses—amongst their peers and even from professors. Many have been targeted online and in classrooms, ridiculed for their identity and their belief in Israel’s right to exist. Over the course of the school year, these attacks are degrading and discouraging. The resolve to stand together as students, to find resilience through common ground, brought our diverse group—students from different backgrounds and walks of life—together with unity and resolve.
In an environment outside of Israel—which was currently under heavy bombardment—and far from our university campuses, I expected to feel distant from Jew-hatred. One would have expected the streets of Rome, from a tourist perspective, to feel historic and disconnected from the current conflict. But Rome proved to be anything but neutral or accepting.
We witnessed some antisemitic graffiti and acts of Jew-hate in Florence, Venice, and Verona, but nothing could have prepared me for the barrage of Jewish hatred we encountered in Rome—the heart of ancient civilization. In some areas, entire walls were coated with slogans, many not merely masking themselves as pro-Palestinian, but unashamedly proclaiming Jew-hatred.
To be a tourist and face hatred against your very identity in a foreign land is a bitter state of affairs for Jewish students. Walking the streets as a tourist, yet confronted with hate that calls out against you and your country’s right to exist, is a shocking reality that Jews today are facing in many parts of the world.
One student explained that he had witnessed more antisemitic graffiti, stickers, and swastikas in Italy than he had in Canada and the U.S. combined, declaring that it was “next level,” even compared to known hotspots of Jew-hatred. He shared the emotional toll it took on him: “I personally went through some very difficult emotions. People heckled me with disgusting antisemitic comments. I was told things like ‘You are the problem in the world’ and ‘You need to die.'”
One night in Florence, someone spat at him as they passed by after seeing his kippah. Another day, a group of people attempted to physically rip the Magen David necklace from his neck. Why the hate against Canadian Jews even in a foreign country?
The roots of Rome’s antisemitism is the true tragedy. The Roman Empire was the seat of the Catholic Church throughout the Middle Ages and, sadly, became the face of Jew-hatred through much of the Jewish Diaspora. The Church’s Fourth Lateran Council, in the year 1215, mandated that Jews in Italy wear distinctive yellow badges — the same concept of labeling later used by Hitler during the Holocaust. Periodic persecutions, forced conversions, and expulsions occurred, often influenced by Church authorities. In 1555, Pope Paul IV revoked many rights of the Jewish community and established the Jewish Ghetto in Rome, where all Jewish inhabitants were forced to live and be controlled.
As a Bible-believing Christian and a Biblical Zionist, learning the history of the Church’s persecution of Jews in Italy, alongside my Jewish friends, had a deep effect on me. The Bible is clear that the Jewish people were chosen by God, and that He loves them (Gen 12, Deut 7:6, Zech 2:8). Jesus Christ (Yeshua) came to earth as a Jewish man, the Messiah, and took on the sins of the world as the perfect Lamb of sacrifice, so that we could be forgiven and restored to a holy God (Isaiah 53). The Church has often sadly misrepresented Jesus, and distorted God’s love for the Jewish people by turning it into hate; and as a Christian that sees so clearly God’s heart of love and faithfulness towards the Jewish people, this reality is sickening.
On a building in the city of Rome, I witnessed shocking graffiti in which Jesus Christ, garbed in a Palestinian keffiyeh, is being crucified on the cross. Standing by, perpetrating his death, two Israeli soldiers are clearly depicted. This piece of antisemitic graffiti powerfully displays the age-old excuse for persecuting the Jewish people — that they are “Christ-killers.” In the center of what was the heart of people who claimed Christ throughout the middle ages, Jewish people should feel the biblical love and support of Christians, not hostile antisemitism horrifically committed in the name of Christ.
An overwhelming sense of helplessness weighed heavily on my heart as I witnessed the antisemitism in Rome alongside my Jewish friends. A few fellow students and I removed numerous hate-filled posters, but many of the messages were deeply embedded — scrawled on walls or plastered in ways that couldn’t be easily removed. Thanks to some amazing pro-Israel stickers from the Friends of Israel Gospel Ministry, a Jewish friend and I made it our mission: we removed what messages we could and covered up what hate we could not. Sadly, many of our stickers were quickly targeted — some torn down, others viciously scratched out.
The antisemitism of Rome, which I witnessed alongside my Jewish friends, must serve as a wake-up call to North America. We are walking the same road, just a few steps behind. The seed of Jew-hatred, fully grown, is ugly indeed.
The reality of modern displays of antisemitism in Italy must also serve as a wake-up call to the Church. Antisemitism in the Church — when allowed to fester and thrive — produces an ugly hatred that can distort the name of our Lord and the testimony of Scripture, where God makes clear his love and faithfulness to His chosen people, Israel.
The battle for the Jewish people’s right to exist is not new, and I know that God will keep His promises and preserve His people. No distortion by evil men feigning the name of Christ can change the character of our faithful Lord Jesus. And no nation that allows and perpetuates the festering hate of the Jewish people will be blessed.
