Gratitude for Those Standing in Solidarity with Jews

By Jack Lieblein

Wednesday, April 01, 2026

 

As Passover begins tonight, I’ll do what I’ve done for most of my life to mark the occasion by joining friends and family for a seder dinner. But for the past few years, this beautiful Jewish tradition has been more emotional and meaningful than ever before. That’s because the dinner I attend, near Bucknell University in central Pennsylvania, is joined by quite a few non-Jews. This was not the case in earlier years, but in the wake of the attacks of October 7, 2023, they’ve come to show support for the Jewish people and the State of Israel. It’s time they got some public credit.

 

I was a sophomore at Bucknell when the terrorists went on their spree of murder and rape across southern Israel. Like so many American campuses, mine was overrun with antisemitism in the days and months that followed. Protests swept across the quad, decrying not Hamas but Israel and her people. A Hebrew studies professor was the target of vandalism. Hateful messages were scrawled on walkways and walls all over campus.

 

Bucknell’s Jewish community is fairly small — about 300 students, or 7 percent of the student body. Most of us hunkered down, afraid of what would happen if we spoke out. One Jewish student, the leader of the campus Hillel chapter, took a different approach: She joined a protest and held a sign saying “Free Palestine” — and she didn’t mean that it should be freed from Hamas. For students like me, it felt like nowhere was safe and no one was on our side.

 

But I was wrong. Before October 7, I wasn’t very in touch with my faith. But after the massacre on the other side of the world, I began to study and appreciate Judaism in a new way, largely through the campus chapter of Chabad, a Hasidic Jewish organization dedicated to outreach to Jews everywhere. At the first Chabad event I attended, dozens of non-Jews were present as well.

 

Given the atmosphere elsewhere on campus, I was amazed. When I asked some friends what the Gentiles were doing there, their response was disarming. They told me that more and more non-Jews had been showing up after October 7. Not to attack or berate us but to support and strengthen us. Before the meeting was over, I had made several friends among the non-Jews who came to show solidarity — friendships that have lasted to this day.

 

The following Passover — the first since the massacre — I counted more than a dozen non-Jews at the Chabad house seder. Many were delightfully confused about the traditions they were witnessing and eager to learn. As our local Chabad chapter swelled in size, we found support from places we never expected. The Open Discourse Coalition, a nonprofit organization where I now work, has hosted every Chabad event for a major Jewish holiday since late 2023. None of its leaders are Jewish. But all of them recognize that Jewish students need allies at a time when antisemitism is resurgent.

 

I’ve asked Jewish family members and friends across the country whether my experience is unusual. Turns out, it’s par for the course since 2023. From coast to coast, Jewish holidays are regularly marked by Gentile attendance, which used to be vanishingly rare. My initial surprise at this show of support has turned into bewilderment that no one talks about it. Something extraordinary is happening, yet it’s entirely in the shadows.

 

Unlike the protesters who have dominated the headlines, none of these non-Jews standing with their Jewish sisters and brothers have sought media attention. Unlike the acts of violence and vandalism against Jews that persist to this day, their quiet and continuous acts of kindness go unreported. But they aren’t unseen. To the contrary: Jews like me see them very clearly. And with all the hate directed our way, we’re heartened that there are many people of goodwill who love the Jews and are willing to show it.

 

Heading into Passover, I couldn’t be more grateful for the outpouring of support that still surrounds me. I will thank those who join me at this year’s seder, which marks the start of a week of thanksgiving for the Jews’ deliverance. As we recline at table, we’ll listen together to the Four Questions, which center on why this night is different from all other nights. It has always been different, for thousands of years. But now, it is also different — and all the better — because of this fellowship.