Jewish Privilege

It’s 12:30 p.m. on Saturday. The morning Shabbat services have ended, and I’m sitting in the synagogue, enjoying lunch. The prayers were meaningful, the singing joyous, and, as always, the rabbi struck just the right balance between gravitas and humor.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a man standing a few yards away. Dressed entirely in black, he’s the same figure I passed when I entered the building earlier that morning. He has a gun at his side—and I feel grateful he’s here.

In recent years, the presence of an armed security guard has become a fixture in synagogues around the world. While protection has long been necessary, the sight of a firearm still feels jarringly out of place in a house of worship.

When I leave the synagogue later, a police car cruises by. The mayor has ordered extra patrols around the city’s synagogues.

In recent years there has been much talk about white privilege. The Personify Vitality app provided by my employer has a category for Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI). It says, “If you’re in the racial group with power, you contribute to racism. If you’re white, or in another racial group with power and privilege, you may feel guilt or shame.”

These statements about white privilege are, in my opinion, over the top. Moreover, I believe that the excessive focus on white privilege and the binary classification of oppressor versus oppressed backfired, contributing to Trump’s win.

There are many kinds of privilege. In addition to white privilege, there is height privilege. Does anyone believe that Trump would be president if instead of standing at 6”3, he was only 5”3? In fact, in order to find a U.S. President who was below average height, you would have to go back to 1896 when William McKinley was elected, and he was actually about average height for that time.

But a far more serious and less acknowledged privilege is religious privilege.

Freedom to Express Your Jewishness

If you never worry that revealing your religion might lead to negative consequences, you have religious privilege.

If you never worry that revealing your religion might lead to negative consequences, you have religious privilege. A 2024 ADL study revealed that in order to receive the same number of positive responses, Jewish American job applicants with Jewish-sounding names needed to submit 24% more applications. Israeli Americans needed to submit 39% more.

With a nondescript last name, I have found it telling on occasion when people find out that I am Jewish. Many years ago, when I was a college student working at a summer job in a brokerage firm, one of the vice presidents of the company, someone who also held the leadership position in our state senate, asked me where I went to school.

When I told him, he looked stunned and shrieked, “Brandeis! Why do you go there?!” I responded, “Because it’s a good school.” He immediately caught himself, and quietly said, “I know it’s a good school. I’m proud to know you.” He then slinked away. While he was left wondering whether I was Jewish or just someone who had no problem going to a Jewish-majority school, I had no doubt that he had a problem either way.

Freedom to Worship without Fear

If you can go into your place of worship without passing an armed guard, then you have religious privilege.

Synagogues around the world have become hotbeds of protest, ostensibly against Israel, but in actuality against Jews.

Professor and podcast host Scott Galloway said, “Free speech is at its freest when it’s hate speech against Jews.”

In July antisemitic protesters in Germany interrupted Friday night services by holding a rally outside a synagogue. To show their solidarity with Jews, scores of German citizens, many of them Christian leaders wearing crosses, gathered and formed a human chain around the synagogue. We need more brave and righteous people like them, people who use their religious privilege to support others.

In 2024, Jews in the U.S. were roughly 660% more likely than Muslims to be victims of anti-religious bias offenses.

When the topic of antisemitism arises, it’s common for the conversation to pivot towards Islamophobia. Yet the two are not comparable in scope: in 2024, Jews in the U.S. were roughly 660% more likely than Muslims to be victims of anti-religious bias offenses.

Moreover, the challenges we face far exceed those of any other faith.

In 2018, while in Jerusalem, I attended a political briefing at the Knesset. Gil Hoffman, then chief political correspondent for the Jerusalem Post, outlined the many difficulties confronting Israel and Jews worldwide. His list was daunting: threats from Iran, Gaza, Lebanon, Syria, Yemen, Iraq, and various terrorist groups in the West Bank; the United Nations’ persistent bias against Israel; and the rise of antisemitism on college campuses. Hearing the sheer number of threats from so many directions was both discouraging and overwhelming.

Yet what truly caught me off guard was Hoffman’s comment after finishing his list. With an upbeat tone, he declared, “The Jews have never had it so good!”—and he meant it. His point was clear: despite the challenges, Jews today enjoy privileges and opportunities that previous generations could only dream of.

Being Jewish is a great privilege, and my Jewish identity is a tremendous source of pride.

How privileged I am to be part of a people that is so small in numbers yet so great in its achievements and contributions to the world. In terms of population, we represent a mere 1 in 500 people, yet we have won an astonishing 1 in 5 Nobel Prizes.

Amidst police cars and armed guards now woven together into the fabric of our synagogue environment, we will continue to do what we have always done: we will pray for the privilege of peace.