The past year we have witnessed a level of turmoil on college and university campuses across the United States at a scale not seen in at least a generation. The Hamas assault on Israel on October 7, 2023, and the subsequent war between Israel and Hamas in Gaza, with spillover effects now threatening a wider regional war, sparked waves of protests on campuses. These culminated in last spring’s encampments, which embroiled campus communities and outside elements in deep conflicts. Sometimes these protests even spurred violence and mass arrests. Every college and university is different when it comes to how the campus activism of the past year played out. But an interesting fact is that, of the approximately 125 campus encampments, only five or so occurred at Catholic universities.
Catholic universities in general seemed to engage with the protest movement differently than elsewhere. Indeed, there was a sense that Catholic universities—like Boston College, where I teach—were deemed safer places for Jewish students, and some went so far as to specifically reach out to Jewish students seeking to transfer there. Yet Catholic universities were not wholly at a remove from the campus protests. Fordham’s Manhattan campus briefly had an encampment. The protests and marches at Loyola University Chicago were extensive, and led to accusations of antisemitism, particularly at its law school. Many Catholic campuses had rallies, vigils, or educational programming that spoke to the range of views concerning the war.
These protests raise questions for those of us who teach, lead, and support the mission and work of Catholic universities. The war and the protests surrounding them require reflection around just-war ethics, education in support of civil societies, and the need to address Islamophobia and anti-Arab bias. But the issue I wish to address is this: What is the role of a Catholic university when it comes to antisemitism in the context of the Israel-Palestine conflict?
In order to answer this question, the experiences of Jewish students need to be centered. Jewish students experienced a range of anxieties over the past year. According to reports on antisemitism prepared for Stanford, Columbia, and the City University of New York, Jewish students found that many of their non-Jewish friends either exhibited little understanding of what happened on October 7 or why an event in Israel might be concerning to their Jewish peers. More troubling, in the week after the attack, many campuses saw student groups rally in support of the Palestinian cause in ways that minimized the immediate suffering of Israeli citizens and the grief of fellow Jewish students. Also deeply concerning, some student groups, as at Harvard, issued statements that justified as legitimate the October 7 attack. This gave Jewish students the impression that Israel and Israelis were already deemed figures not worthy of empathy.
Furthermore, there was a surge of campus groups, faculty, and students speaking out against Zionism. Zionism and its relationship to Jewish identity is a complicated topic that I will return to later. My point here is to highlight that Zionism became a political ideology that many progressive entities on U.S. campuses depicted as illegitimate, inherently racist, synonymous with colonialism, and even responsible for all the ills of Western society. The delegitimization of Zionism served to introduce a sort of purity test for Jewish students. They reported being excluded from campus organizations for being Zionists. Chants like “We don’t want no Zionists here” were heard at many campuses. Jewish student participation in campus life was at times predicated on renouncing Zionism.
The campus protest movements have been the occasion for inflammatory speech and even violence. Here it is sometimes difficult to determine what was done by students and professors, and what was perpetrated by outsiders. Nonetheless, there are documented incidents of chants, images, and banners that have veered into antisemitism and language in support of terrorist entities, notably Hamas, Palestinian Islamic Jihad, and Hezbollah. In encampments and at barricades, visibly Jewish students have been targeted, whether by verbal harassment or by the refusal of permission to cross through campus spaces.
As a cumulative total, the protest movement has exacted a psychic toll on some Jewish students. Even when not all these things are happening on one’s own campus, these events created a generalized sense of anxiety and heightened vigilance. Some Jewish students are more circumspect now about revealing their identity or wearing visible signs of being Jewish. Peer relationships have suffered. Deeply concerning for the core mission of higher education, the protest movement has at times had the effect of hindering the free exchange of ideas inside and outside the classroom. An emphasis on ideological conformity has meant the rise of a kind of leftist illiberalism, according to which dissenting views and speech are suppressed.
This illiberal atmosphere is what ought to drive concern for Jewish students, regardless of one’s views about the legitimacy or morality of the war between Israel and Hamas. A specific concern in higher education is ensuring that all students, and the educational process itself, are protected. Here I see the work of higher education as fitting within some classically liberal goals.
First is the task of intellectual inquiry. The freedom and capacity to explore ideas and concepts, even when outside of the mainstream consensus, and even when potentially offensive, is essential to the work of the university. Without the freedom of intellectual inquiry, the work of teaching, research, and intellectual and moral growth that are the bedrock of the ideals of the university cannot advance. In the context of the protest movement, one example of the work of intellectual inquiry being threatened has been the calls for universities to suspend partnerships with Israeli universities and academics. This has the effect of restricting the free exchange of ideas and the development of valuable research. But it also overlooks that Israeli universities are one of the primary sites in Israeli civil society where Palestinians are able to function on equal terms with their Israeli peers. Israeli universities are one of the key drivers of Palestinian social mobility and economic opportunity. They are also the place where criticism of the occupation and of the Israeli government are pronounced. An illiberal attack on intellectual inquiry in one country can have illiberal effects globally.
A second goal of education within a classically liberal framework is protecting freedom of speech. Without freedom of speech, neither professors, researchers, nor students can meaningfully engage in the work of intellectual inquiry. Preserving and maintaining the right to share the processes and fruits of one’s intellectual inquiry is what freedom of speech preserves. Of course, freedom of speech is not absolute. In particular, freedom of speech in a university context ought not to be used to disrupt the free exchange of ideas. Here the threat of our illiberal moment is manifest. Heckling, disruption of classes and lectures, impeding the dissemination of information, including in the form of posters and banners, preventing students from entering classrooms—all these actions hinder freedom of speech and intellectual inquiry. As such, universities can regulate the time, manner, and place of demonstrations, to foster the fundamental mission of higher education.
Finally, protection against discrimination is essential to advance the liberal goals of the university. Federal statute prohibits a wide spectrum of discrimination and offers safeguards for people deemed to possess protected identities. These written codes are complemented by the embedded cultures of universities that ensure that all students have equal access to education, intellectual inquiry, freedom of speech, and personal development. Without ensuring such protections, universities do not meet their educational goals. As I will explore later, a key concern of Jewish students over the past year has been that their own concerns about antisemitism and bias have not always been taken seriously as a form of discrimination.
Turning our attention to Catholic colleges and universities, we find that these institutions also maintain the fundamental priorities of intellectual inquiry, freedom of speech, and anti-discrimination. But exploring their mission statements and other university documents shows how Catholic theological and ethical commitments make the question especially pointed on our campuses.
Although I teach at a different Catholic university, the mission statement for Villanova University, outside Philadelphia, is a useful starting point. It states:
Villanova provides a comprehensive education rooted in the liberal arts; a shared commitment to the Augustinian ideals of truth, unity and love; and a community dedicated to service to others. The University community welcomes and respects members of all faiths who seek to nurture a concern for the common good and who share an enthusiasm for the challenge of responsible and productive citizenship in order to build a just and peaceful world.
This statement is specific to Villanova and representative of the mission statements of Catholic universities in general. There is a grounding of the university’s identity in the ideals of the religious institution that founded it and usually still guides a university, in this case the Order of Saint Augustine. The language of Villanova’s mission statement seeks both to signal its Catholic identity and to indicate an openness to others. A mission aimed at nurturing the common good, which is at the heart of contemporary Catholic social ethics, is presented as an invitational offer to others. Crucially, the orientation of service to others and a mission for the betterment of the world is one that “members of all faiths” are invited into.
Jewish students at Catholic institutions ought to be considered a community of special concern for administration and faculty.
The centering of Villanova’s Augustinian identity has another valence in the context of the Jewish presence at Villanova and other Catholic universities. Western Christian attitudes toward Jews and Judaism were profoundly shaped by the doctrine of Jewish witness articulated by Augustine. In brief, this teaching held that Jews ought to be tolerated within Christian society because they preserve in Hebrew the prophetic teachings that point toward Jesus as Messiah. Augustine held that even though Jews were themselves spiritually blind to the true meaning of their own scriptures, their valuable role in preserving the ancient witnesses to Christ meant they ought to not be physically harmed, but instead allowed to maintain their communities and practices.
But this toleration had clear limitations. Papal and conciliar decrees and canons, starting with Pope Gregory I’s papacy (590-604 C.E.), inhibited the building of new synagogues and sharply limited Jewish social interaction with Christians. Jews could not be forcibly baptized, but they could be the legitimate subjects of conversion efforts. Jews existed under the protection of the church, but this protection also meant Jewish life could be very precarious. The breakdown in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries of the Augustinian doctrine of Jewish witness led to heightened persecution and violence, more persistent proselytization efforts, and eventually widespread expulsions from western Christian territories.
The monumental development in church teaching at the Second Vatican Council, as seen in documents like Lumen Gentium and Nostra Aetate, repositioned the place of Jews in the thinking of the Catholic Church. Rather than the Augustinian doctrine of Jewish witness, there is an emerging magisterial teaching that posits a fundamental fraternal bond between the church and the Jewish people. There now exists an explicit rejection of antisemitism, an affirmation of the spiritual vitality of Judaism, the exhortation for Jews and Catholics to engage in deep theological reflection together, and an assertion of the abiding validity of the Jewish covenant with God.
Taken together, the history of Catholic-Jewish relations, and contemporary changes to it, has several implications for how Catholic universities ought to think about the place of Jewish students in their community. First, there is a duty to recognize that Jews are a historically minoritized group in relation to Christians. In other words, Jewish students at Catholic institutions ought to be considered a community of special concern for administration and faculty. There ought to be a sensitivity to the specific needs of Jewish students in Catholic contexts, insofar as such institutions have offered explicit welcome to people of all religions.
In welcoming people of all religions to a Catholic institution, these schools should critically reflect on how this offer is extended to particular religious communities. To be clear, this intentional work should not come at the expense of the Catholic identity of the university. Rather, it should be part of its confident expression. Clarity about the religious commitments of the university carries with it the possibility to allow members of minority religious groups to more fully live into their religions identities while on campus. Thus, the welcome of Muslim students has implications to be worked through, as it would with Hindu, Buddhist, or even Protestant students. But given the particular arc of the Catholic Church with Jews, from what was largely a negative history to a current reality that holds much hope and promise, the welcome of Jewish students ought to carry with it a set of intentional practices and dispositions.
The intentional welcome of Jewish students on campus can have different qualities. We can think first of what sort of opportunities are provided to Jewish students. Are the spiritual-life offerings for Jewish students robust? Is there a campus rabbi? Are partnerships with Hillel or other Jewish student-life organizations maintained? Are Jewish students offered dining options that meet their dietary requirements? Do policies exist for students to observe holidays, even when the holidays conflict with syllabus requirements or university calendars? Are resources regarding Judaism and the Jewish experience available in the library? Is there a Jewish studies program of some sort, one that allows them to pursue potential academic interests or to learn more deeply about Jewish life? Is antisemitism included as a topic for university trainings concerning bias and discrimination?
What is the role of a Catholic university when it comes to antisemitism in the context of the Israel-Palestine conflict?
We can also consider how we welcome Jewish students on campus, or how we don’t. If crucifixes are hung in classrooms, what resources are Jewish students given for navigating this, given a historically strong aversion to this image? Are Jewish faculty given the option of not teaching in the presence of a crucifix, especially if their tradition might place crucifixes within a proscribed category? How do faculty in general represent Jews and Judaism in their teaching? In theology courses, how is the Jewish commitment to the Torah framed? Is the law/grace contrast, which posits the Old Testament “law” as inadequate for salvation, in contrast to the life offered through Jesus Christ, amplified in ways that inadvertently denigrate Judaism?
And, getting closer to the issue animating today’s campus protests, what resources exist when the topic of Israel/Palestine is taught in classes? Are long-standing Jewish connections to the land of Israel, prior to the late nineteenth century, taught or examined? Is the complexity of Zionism as a political and religious movement understood and taught with nuance?
As noted before, these sorts of questions and concerns can also be applied to members of other religious minority groups. The question at hand is specifically the place of Jewish students at Catholic universities. Ideally, schools’ diversity, equity, and inclusion offices would play a role; yet most DEI offices rarely include the needs of religious minorities on campus when conceptualizing their task and mission. This is especially true of Jewish students in the United States, who often get categorized as white, and thus part of the dominant majority culture. This racialized category frequently precludes Jewish students from being considered a protected group on campus. This is unfortunate, given both the very real racialization of Jews by white supremacists and the fact that Jews globally do not fit neatly into the category of “white” in its American context. Yet over the past year we’ve seen how Jewish students should be regarded as a community of special concern at Catholic universities. If DEI offices at Catholic universities will not consider Jewish students as a group with special needs and considerations, then a serious discussion needs to occur about how DEI offices are fulfilling the mission of such universities, which should prioritize making people of all religious traditions feel welcome and safe.
If Catholic universities ought to have a particular concern for nurturing the wellbeing of Jewish students, what should this look like? Specifically, what ought to be done in the current atmosphere, when the conflict between Israel and Palestine has reached new heights that inform so many elements of campus life? I propose five questions for Catholic universities to ponder:
1. How is human dignity advanced on campus?
Human dignity is a common denominator in the language many Catholic colleges and universities use to describe their mission. It seems to me that this category includes care for the vulnerable on campus. Discerning vulnerability need not be a reductive process. Many people can be vulnerable at the same time. Thus, concern for the safety and care of Jewish students can occur at the same time as extending such concern to Palestinian students, Muslim students, or students of color. Attending to human dignity as a first-order concern ought to be a priority in the everyday practices of the university administration.
2. How is Jewish diversity accounted for?
Judaism and Jewishness are incredibly diverse categories, encompassing elements of a religion, ethnicity, peoplehood, and culture. One can be Jewish without being religious. One can be Jewish and hold a wide range of views about Israel, the Israeli/Palestinian conflict, and how to protest it or not. Catholic universities must acknowledge a wide diversity of expressions of what it means to be Jewish. There should not be an expectation that these students fit into pre-existing Christian ideas of what Jewishness is. A deeper understanding of the diversity and complexity of Judaism will help university officials navigate claims of antisemitism and more fully welcome Jewish students.
3. How well is the importance of Israel for Jews understood?
Even though there might be a wide diversity of opinion among Jews about the way in which Israel is conducting the current war, this ought not to occlude the significance of Israel for most Jews. A return to the land of Israel is an essential idea in Judaism, and a prayer concerning this is part of the regular synagogue liturgy. Most Jews hold some kind of connection to the State of Israel, seeing its existence and independence as an important cultural symbol. For many, it serves as a homeland and a place where family and friends now live. For some, the continued existence of the State of Israel, where 40 percent of the world’s Jews now live, is a necessary guarantee, a site of safety in a world that can quickly turn hostile to Jews. That any given Jew might have a complex set of attitudes toward Israel does not diminish its overall significance for most Jews.
4. How is the pejorative use of “Zionist” addressed?
One of the features of the campus protest movement, as mentioned earlier, is the use of the term “Zionist” as a pejorative term. Frequently in the campus protest movement “Zionist” and “Zionism” are used in the same sense as terms like “fascist,” “war crimes,” “genocide,” and so on. Sometimes the all-encompassing use of the term becomes extreme. Thus, the term “the Zionist state/entity” is used instead of “Israel.” Or Israel is referred to as a “so-called country” or sometimes called—to quote a phrase seen on tee shirts—a “garbage country that only garbage people love.” In these extreme examples, anti-Zionism moves into antisemitism. What is of particular concern is how “Zionist” or “Zionism” can become catch-all terms for Jews, or at least the majority of Jews. The crucial issue here for campus administrators, in adjudicating issues of bias, is to understand two points. First, they must have some sort of working knowledge of the diverse forms of Zionism as political, cultural, and religious movements with complex and nuanced histories. Second, they must understand how “Zionist” can be used by some in an antisemitic way, to speak disparagingly of specific Jewish members of a campus community.
5. What rises to the level of “antisemitism”?
If Jewish students are to be regarded as a community of special concern, and if antisemitism is a form of discrimination that the Catholic Church specifically teaches against, how well equipped are Catholic colleges and universities for discerning when speech and behavior rises to the level of antisemitism? This is an especially pressing question given that the most prominent working definition of antisemitism, the one developed by the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance, has been criticized for making too close a link between criticism of Israel and antisemitism. Yet, we have also just seen how anti-Zionism can serve as cover for antisemitism. Here the Stanford University report on antisemitism on its campus helpfully suggests that antisemitism charges can be parsed according to whether a suspected use is antisemitic in terms of substance and structure. That is, does the statement or act replicate specific substantive examples of antisemitic beliefs, such as avarice, a blood libel, or the manipulation of politics or media? And does the statement or act replicate a structural view of Jews as uniquely responsible for the problems of the world? These categories of substance and structure can be applied in campus contexts. Thus, the image of a “Zionist” caricatured as a grotesque blood-thirsty figure with stereotypical Jewish features should be investigated as potentially antisemitic. Or an assertion like “The world will see peace when Zionists are eliminated” ought also to raise alarms.
In attempting to answer the question of how a Catholic university ought to exercise concern for Jewish students in the context of Israel/Palestine debates on campus, I have proposed a two-fold approach, which I might describe as generative and reparative. I have sketched out aspects of a generative approach, in which the Catholic university take steps to positively nurture Jewish life on campus through a set of dispositions and practices. This approach seeks to act upon the identification of Jewish students as a community of special concern by ensuring they can flourish individually and collectively on campus. A reparative approach recognizes previous harm born by Jews, caused by Christians, and seeks to mitigate and reduce harm for Jews on campus today. It does this by being attentive to particular ways in which bias and harm, enacted against Jewish students, at times has features different from how other marginalized communities may be harmed on Catholic campuses.
Both approaches are grounded in a commitment by the university to the flourishing of Jewish life and culture, as part of an overarching Catholic commitment to the same. This commitment, however, ought not to be understood as operating in exclusion to or in competition with other Catholic commitments to human dignity and the common good, such as concerns for the well-being of Palestinian, Arab, or Muslim members of campus. Navigating a commitment to Jewish students on campus is part of an overall web of a coherent common mission for the flourishing of all its students, a web essential for the Catholic university.