Daniel McCarthy’s essay on Norman Podhoretz and the Paleoconservatives reads like a family argument conducted at a graveside: an accounting of victories won in foreign-policy debates, alongside the bitter realization that the older, deeper battle—against anti-Jewish hatred—has not been won at all. (Compact)
Podhoretz, who died on December 16, 2025, spent decades warning that the West’s confidence could evaporate, that moral confusion would invite cruelty, and that the Jewish people—always the canary in the coal mine—would again be made to pay for the decadence of others. (Commentary) In the days surrounding his death, the world offered grim punctuation: Australia is still reeling after a terrorist mass shooting at a Jewish Hanukkah celebration at Bondi Beach that killed 15 people, with police alleging the father-and-son perpetrators were inspired by Islamic State. (Reuters)
McCarthy presses a provocative claim: that the neoconservative foreign-policy instincts Podhoretz championed may, through wars and the migrations that often follow, work at cross purposes with Jewish safety in the West. (Compact) He then poses a strategic question to the American right: can it protect Jews while rejecting the paleoconservative currents Podhoretz once treated as morally contaminated?
Christians should read that dispute with clarity—but also with holy suspicion. Because the greatest danger in these arguments is the temptation to accept a false choice: either defend the Jewish people and Israel by hardening into tribal politics, or defend universal human dignity by softening into moral relativism about antisemitism. The Church cannot accept either option. Scripture will not allow it.
Antisemitism is not a “policy problem.” It is a spiritual disorder.
From Pharaoh to Haman to Herod, the Bible portrays a recurring pattern: the powerful scapegoat a vulnerable people; lies harden into systems; and violence follows. Antisemitism is not merely “another prejudice.” It is an ancient rebellion against the God who chose to reveal Himself through a Jewish story, a Jewish Messiah, and a Jewish set of Scriptures.
That theological fact does not require Christians to endorse every decision of any Israeli government. But it does require Christians to recognize that the ongoing singling out of Jews—whether through conspiracy theories on the right or moral double standards on the left—belongs to the domain of sin, not merely sociology.
When mobs chant for “intifada” as a fashionable slogan in Western capitals, and when online “dissidents” recycle old insinuations about Jewish power with new memes, the Church must name the thing: it is hatred wearing a costume. And hatred does not become righteousness because it adopts the language of anti-imperialism or “America First.”
Pro-Israel conviction must be thicker than partisanship.
McCarthy notes how American politics can produce strange inversions: antisemitism can flourish among “excessively online” right-wing subcultures while anti-Zionism saturates parts of the activist left. (Compact) The Christian response cannot be to treat Jews as a pawn in a domestic culture war. It must be to insist—publicly, consistently, and without embarrassment—that Jewish life is not negotiable.
That insistence is particularly urgent in places like New York, home to one of the largest Jewish populations outside Israel, where Zohran Mamdani’s election has intensified debates inside the Democratic coalition about Israel, Jewish safety, and the line between criticism and delegitimization. (Reuters) Christians should not speak about Mayor-elect Mamdani—or any leader—in slander or fearmongering. But Christians should demand clear moral boundaries from every administration: condemn antisemitic harassment, reject slogans that sacralize violence, protect religious communities, and treat Jewish citizens as fully belonging.
If a society cannot offer that to Jews, it will not offer it for long to Christians either.
The Church must reject both xenophobia and naiveté.
McCarthy’s most contentious argument is demographic: that large-scale immigration—especially from places with deep anti-Israel narratives—can dilute or reverse a country’s philo-Semitic instincts. (Compact) There is a policy conversation to be had here, and Christians should not be bullied into silence when discussing border enforcement, vetting, assimilation, or civic cohesion.
But Christians must also refuse a common rhetorical corruption: treating migrants as a suspect class. The Bible’s commands about welcoming the stranger are not sentimental. They are moral demands placed on God’s people. The state has a duty to order its borders; the Church has a duty to love its neighbor. Those duties can complement each other—if Christians keep their heads and their hearts.
Bondi Beach offers a sobering example of why clarity matters. Australian authorities allege the attack was inspired by Islamic State. (Reuters) And yet, in the aftermath, Australian Muslims reported a surge in Islamophobic harassment—an evil response to evil. (The Guardian) The Christian posture must be simultaneously firm and clean: oppose Islamist antisemitism without cultivating hatred toward Muslims; protect Jews without turning Muslims into scapegoats; demand security without sacrificing conscience.
Podhoretz’s legacy points to a better Christian question
McCarthy asks whether Podhoretz “failed” because neoconservatism won foreign-policy influence while antisemitism rose at home. (Compact) A Christian might ask a different question: what would it look like to fight antisemitism as a matter of discipleship rather than faction?
It would look like churches teaching congregations that Jesus is Jewish—and that contempt for Jews is contempt for the roots of our faith.
It would look like pastors refusing to let their people flirt with conspiracism, no matter which “side” packages it.
It would look like Christians showing up—quietly, consistently—to support synagogues that need security upgrades, communities that face harassment, and Jewish students who are isolated on campuses.
It would look like advocating policies that protect minorities and punish hate crimes, while also rebuilding civic education so that assimilation means learning a shared moral grammar: equal dignity under law, religious liberty, and the rejection of political violence.
And it would look like defending Israel’s legitimacy with moral seriousness: Israel is not a theological mascot, but the nation-state refuge of a people with an unmatched history of persecution. Christians can debate borders, strategies, and statesmanship. But Christians should not debate whether the Jewish people have the right to live in safety in their ancestral homeland.
Podhoretz understood something many in comfortable times forget: when a culture loses confidence in truth, it does not become tolerant. It becomes cruel. The Church’s task is not to pick between neocon and paleocon temperaments. It is to refuse every movement—left or right—that normalizes hatred of Jews, excuses terror, or erodes the moral foundations that make pluralism possible.
For Christians, being pro-Israel is not a trend. It is a disciplined commitment: to truth over fashion, to courage over cowardice, and to blessing over curse.