Jason Holtzman and Rev. Todd Stavrakos
In a moment when so many Americans are retreating into ideological and communal corners, the simple act of showing up for one another across lines of faith can feel both radical and risky. That reality was brought into sharp focus during a recent interfaith delegation to Israel, an experience that underscored not only the complexity of interfaith relationships, but their urgent necessity.
What became immediately clear on the ground was the diversity within the Jewish community itself. The differences between Israeli and American Jews are not only geographic; they are shaped by distinct histories, political realities and lived experiences of trauma. Trauma, we learned, does not manifest uniformly. For some Israelis it is embedded in daily life and national identity. For American Jews it often emerges through rising antisemitism, fear in public spaces and the weight of historical memory. Understanding these differences is essential if we are to be authentic partners rather than performative allies.
At the same time, the trip challenged us to hold multiple truths at once. It is possible to condemn antisemitism unequivocally and express concern for both Israeli and Palestinian communities. Too often, public discourse demands false binaries. But interfaith relationships, when nurtured with honesty and humility, create space for complexity rather than erasing it. It requires the discipline to reject false choices and affirm that both Israelis and Palestinians deserve dignity, safety and a future.
For some participants in our delegation, this was their first time in Israel. That alone required courage. The greater courage though was the willingness to step outside familiar circles, to risk misunderstanding and to engage in conversations that do not offer easy answers. In today’s climate, there is a real social cost to this kind of engagement. Working across faith lines, particularly in the context of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, can invite criticism from one’s own community. And yet, people came anyway.
What emerged was something deeper than allyship. Allyship can often be seen as a posture of support without shared vulnerability. What we witnessed instead were the beginnings of genuine friendship. Jewish participants showed up in Christian spaces; Christians offered prayers for Israel not as a political statement, but as an expression of care for people they now knew personally. Together we witnessed and heard the pain of the Palestinian community. These are small gestures, perhaps, but they signal a shift from abstract solidarity to real relationships.
This spirit of connection feels especially resonant following celebrations of Passover and Easter. Each tradition tells a story of liberation and renewal. Passover recalls the Exodus from bondage into freedom; Easter proclaims resurrection and new life after suffering.
Though distinct in theology, both holidays point toward the possibility of emerging from darkness into hope. Our traditions recognize these sacred seasons as providing a new lens through which to view the world. In a time marked by fear, grief and division, these shared themes invite us to imagine what collective renewal might look like, not only within our own communities but between them.
This work feels especially significant in places like Philadelphia, where these conversations are continuing. There is something almost poetic about this setting: the birthplace of much of the mainline Protestant demographic is also home to a large Jewish population. History has placed these communities in proximity before. The question now is whether we can renew and regrow those relationships for a different era.
The urgency of this work was made heartbreakingly clear when news broke of the attack on Temple Israel in West Bloomfield, Michigan, coinciding with our group’s reunion. In that moment, being physically present with colleagues of another faith took on profound meaning. Solidarity was no longer theoretical; it was immediate and embodied. Grief, fear and resilience were shared in real time.
Interfaith work is not easy. It requires patience, humility and a willingness to be uncomfortable. It asks us to listen more than we speak, to resist the pull of oversimplification and to remain present even when tensions rise. But it also offers something that is increasingly rare: the possibility of connection that transcends difference without denying it.
In a world that often rewards division, choosing a relationship is an act of quiet defiance. It is also, perhaps, a path toward renewal — not just for our respective communities, but for the broader society we share.
Jason Holtzman is chief of the Jewish Community Relations Council of the Jewish Federation of Greater Philadelphia. Rev. Todd Stavrakos is a member of Presbyterian Church USA and executive director of Pathways for Middle East Peace.