In times of distress for the Jewish community, there is one constant I can rely on: the unwavering support of my Christian neighbors.

They stop me when I’m walking the dogs, flag me down driving on the street, send texts and emails.

They want to reassure me that they care, and to express their outrage at the unfolding events on college campuses.

I too am outraged. I hear the chants of “from the river to the sea” and know what the chanters themselves might not realize; that it means total obliteration of Israel (at least, I hope they don’t mean that). The river is the Jordan, the sea is the Mediterranean, and Israel lies between.

Yet, amidst protests for Palestinian rights, why the silence on the plight of thousands of Palestinians who have died under Syria’s brutal regime? Where is the outcry for the millions of starving children in Yemen, trapped in one of the world’s gravest humanitarian crises?

The uncomfortable conclusion that I have reached is this: They don’t care. They don’t care about Palestinians suffering in Syria or children dying in Yemen. And they certainly don’t care about those who were murdered, raped, kidnapped, and critically injured on October 7 in Israel.

They even cheered it.

They feel free to attack and boycott American Jewish businesses, empowered by a hatred that allows them to target any Jew, anywhere. But today, college campuses are the worst places for Jews to be.

The anti-Israel sentiment that has sprung up so rapidly and so virulently is terrifying. Because it tells us that it was there all along, just waiting to be unleashed.

The students protesting on campuses across the country are spreading a message of intolerance, hatred, and antisemitism. In their zeal to emulate the student protests of the 1960s, they have lost sight of any humanitarian goals they may have harbored. And Jewish students? They are rightfully terrified.

The protesters go so far as to blame Israel for the terrorist attack on October 7, saying that Israel brought it on themselves. It is hard for me to imagine that someone would blame innocent civilians for their own murders. But that is exactly what is happening.

The parallels to the 1930s weigh heavily on American Jews. We are as incredulous as German Jews must have felt then.

I am grateful to my neighbors for reaching out. They feel as helpless as I do, and their kindnesses to me are the best they can do. But it’s not enough. We need their churches and clergy to join them.

We need our political leaders to stand in unity with us. We need the black and Latino communities to step forward.

We need big, grand gestures. We need hundreds of thousands of non-Jewish Americans to wear a Jewish star — not like the ones the Nazis forced us to wear, but beautiful blue and white ones.

We are a minority under siege. We need you.