To understand the theological constructs that fuel Islamic antisemitism, we must explore how jihad, through both historical precedent and modern radicalization, has been used as a tool to justify hostility toward Jews.
By Dr. Tim Orr
Jihad in Islam, a concept both complex and multifaceted, has long played a significant role in shaping Muslim attitudes toward non-Muslim communities, particularly Jews. While in the West, jihad is often understood in terms of personal struggle—referred to as the "greater jihad"—there is also the "lesser jihad," which involves physical defense or expansion of the Muslim community. Historically, jihad has been connected to military campaigns, which not only sought to defend Islam but also to promote the spread of Islamic rule. As a result, the theological interpretations of jihad have contributed to the development of justifications for hostility toward non-Muslim communities, especially Jews, as both religious and political adversaries.
To understand the theological constructs that fuel Islamic antisemitism, we must explore how jihad, through both historical precedent and modern radicalization, has been used as a tool to justify hostility toward Jews. This exploration reveals how Islamic theology and geopolitical factors have fostered an enduring and deeply rooted antagonism.
Imagine a small band of early Muslims in the 7th century, encircled by hostile tribes and powers. Their leader, the Prophet Muhammad, preached peace and unity under the banner of Islam. Yet, as tensions rose between this new community and the entrenched Jewish tribes in Medina, a shift occurred. The Muslims, at first, sought coexistence, hoping for cooperation with the Jews as "People of the Book." However, when the Jewish tribes refused to accept Muhammad's message, perceiving him as a false prophet, relations quickly deteriorated, leading to skirmishes, betrayals, and eventually violent conflict.
This early tension laid the groundwork for what would later become a theological justification for violence. As one Muslim leader narrated centuries later, "When the Jews rejected the Prophet, they rejected God's mercy, and so jihad became the means through which their opposition was overcome." This narrative reinforced a perception of the Jews not just as political enemies but as spiritual opponents standing in defiance of God’s will.
This moment in early Islamic history he shaped the future of jihad. What began as a call for spiritual struggle to overcome internal sins was soon accompanied by an external form of struggle—against those who opposed the Muslim community. For the early Islamic empires, this dual concept of jihad justified expansion and conquest, especially when it came to groups like the Jews, who were perceived as undermining the Muslim cause by rejecting Muhammad’s prophethood and allying with his enemies.
At this juncture, the concept of jihad transitioned into something even more potent. As persecution against the early Muslim community intensified, many Muslims began to wonder: Where did the Qur'an promise divine judgment? The Qur’an had long foretold that God would punish those who rejected His messenger. Yet, as time passed without visible retribution, a theological crisis emerged. The delay of divine judgment tested the faith of the believers, who began to ask whether God’s justice would truly be realized in their lifetime.
Consider the story of a devout Muslim merchant in Medina, burdened by doubts. He had given up his former life to follow Muhammad. Still, as his Jewish business partners mocked his faith and the promised divine retribution remained unseen, he began to question everything. "How long must we wait for God to act?" he asked. His doubt reflected a broader concern within the community, which was increasingly frustrated by the lack of tangible signs of God’s intervention.
It was in this climate that the Qur'an's message shifted. Surah Al-Hajj (Q22) answered that believers were no longer just to wait patiently for divine punishment; they were now called to act as God’s agents of justice on earth. They were to defend themselves and, if necessary, fight. This transition from passive waiting to active jihad was more than a pragmatic shift—it was a significant theological development. The early Muslims were now called not just to endure persecution but to engage in physical struggle, and this shift forever altered the role of jihad in Islamic theology, cementing the notion that violence could be a legitimate means of enforcing divine justice.
Fast forward to the modern era. In the 20th century, a young Egyptian named Sayyid Qutb was studying in the United States when he became disillusioned by what he saw as the immorality of Western society. Returning to Egypt, he became a leading voice in the Muslim Brotherhood and penned works that would inspire a new generation of jihadists. For Qutb, the West symbolized not just moral decay but an existential threat to Islamic civilization itself, and jihad became, for him, how Muslims could reclaim their dignity and restore Islamic governance.
Qutb interpreted jihad not just as a defense but as a means of reclaiming Islamic lands from Western imperialism and resisting secular regimes. He viewed the theological principles of jihad as applying not only to physical conflict but also to a broader spiritual and ideological battle against modernity, which he believed had corrupted both Muslims and non-Muslims alike. In Qutb’s worldview, Jews were part of a global conspiracy that aimed to undermine Islam, and he drew heavily on anti-Jewish themes in his writings to justify jihad against them.
For Qutb, the theological framework of jihad provided a path to action. Drawing on the Qur’anic narratives, he viewed Muslims as instruments of God’s justice, tasked with fighting the enemies of Islam, including Jews. As Qutb’s influence spread, groups like Hezbollah, Hamas, and al-Qaeda adopted this militant interpretation of jihad, turning it into a call for global warfare against perceived enemies. In their rhetoric, Jews were not only opponents of Islam during the time of Muhammad but eternal enemies of God, a narrative that radicalized antisemitism within the context of jihad.
In one telling story, a young Palestinian boy raised under Israeli occupation recalled being taught that jihad was the only way to restore Muslim lands. "My grandfather told me that God cursed the Jews for rejecting the Prophet. He said we were God’s army, and our duty was to fight," he said. This narrative, passed down through generations, links jihad to antisemitism, perpetuating the view that Jews are a legitimate target for violence under Islamic law.
This modern interpretation of jihad, which radical groups used to fuel violence against Jewish communities, is deeply rooted in the Qur’anic eschatological crisis. As Mark Durie explains, jihad in these contexts becomes more than a defense—it is seen as an obligation to restore God’s justice on earth by combating the enemies of Islam, including the Jews (Durie, 2018). Thus, modern jihadist movements adopt theological justifications for their actions that find their origins in both classical texts and the circumstances of early Islamic history.
Durie’s work highlights how jihad’s role in Islamic theology extends beyond defense and into eschatology. The Qur'an presents a dual framework of divine retribution: a "nearer punishment" in this world and a final judgment hereafter. In Islamic tradition, Jews are often depicted as rejecting the Prophet Muhammad, which, in the context of the eschatological crisis, positions them as ongoing opponents of Islam’s divine order. This theological opposition takes on an eternal aspect, meaning Jews are not just enemies in a political or military sense but also spiritually and theologically, making them a target for both God’s wrath and Muslim retribution.
In one striking example, Durie traces the shift in the Qur’an from a passive expectation of divine punishment to a call for active jihad. Early surahs emphasized waiting for God’s wrath, but as the delay of divine judgment created a crisis of faith among believers, later surahs called for violent struggle against disbelievers (Esposito, 2002). This shift gave the Muslim community a sense of agency, transforming them into instruments of divine judgment. The theological message was clear: if God’s punishment was delayed, it was the believers’ duty to bring it about through jihad.
This theological shift allowed militant groups to reinterpret jihad as a divine command to wage war against Jews, who were seen as adversaries obstructing the fulfillment of God’s will. The militant interpretation not only provides a framework for physical conflict but also validates the hatred and violence directed toward Jews, seen as an integral part of Islamic eschatology. By connecting jihad to the narrative of divine judgment, radical Islamists ensure that their antisemitic actions are framed as acts of piety and religious devotion.
One of the most tragic modern examples of how jihad has been exploited to justify antisemitism occurred in the aftermath of the 1948 Nakba when hundreds of thousands of Palestinians were displaced from their homes. Palestinian leaders, such as Haj Amin al-Husseini, framed this displacement in religious terms, calling for jihad to restore Islamic lands and avenge the wrongs committed by Jewish occupiers. Al-Husseini, a prominent figure in both Palestinian nationalism and Islamic thought, drew on the traditional narrative of Jewish betrayal from the time of Muhammad, casting the establishment of Israel as part of a continuous Jewish effort to subjugate and destroy Islam.
For al-Husseini and others, jihad against the Jews was not just a political struggle but a religious obligation rooted in centuries of theological precedent. "The Jews betrayed Muhammad," al-Husseini declared in one of his speeches, "and now they betray us." This narrative, which equated historical opposition to the Prophet Muhammad with modern-day conflict, has become a cornerstone of Islamic antisemitism in many parts of the world. By framing the Jewish people as an existential threat to Islam, al-Husseini invoked jihad as the means to right both historical and contemporary wrongs.
Radical Islamist groups like Hamas have continued to exploit this narrative. In their founding charter, Hamas explicitly links the conflict with Israel to jihad, describing it as a religious duty to fight the Jews, whom they see as eternally treacherous enemies of Islam. This blending of political grievances with theological justifications illustrates how jihad is used not merely as a defense mechanism but as a tool for expanding antisemitic ideologies rooted in the earliest days of Islamic history.
The concept of jihad, from its early foundations to its modern-day manifestations, has been a powerful force in shaping Muslim attitudes toward Jews. What began as a spiritual struggle to defend the Muslim community transformed into a theological justification for violence. Radical groups, such as Hamas and Hezbollah, have exploited the Qur’anic themes of divine punishment and active retribution to frame their antisemitic actions as a continuation of the Prophet’s mission.
Through the stories of early Muslims grappling with delayed judgment, modern radicals like Sayyid Qutb reinterpreting jihad as a tool for global struggle, and Palestinian leaders invoking jihad to reclaim lost lands, we see how jihad has evolved into a theological construct used to justify violence against Jews. This evolution, driven by both religious and political motives, continues to inform Islamic antisemitism. Understanding this historical and theological development is crucial for confronting the enduring problem of Islamic antisemitism today and addressing the roots of the conflict.
Tim Orr is an Evangelical minister, conference speaker, and interfaith consultant with over 30 years of experience in cross-cultural ministry. He holds six degrees, including a master’s in Islamic studies from the Islamic College in London. Tim taught Religious Studies for 15 years at Indiana University Columbus and is now a Congregations and Polarization Project research associate at the Center for the Study of Religion and American Culture at Indiana University Indianapolis. He has spoken at universities, including Oxford, and mosques throughout the U.K. His research focuses on American Evangelicalism, Islamic antisemitism, and Islamic feminism, and he has published widely, including three books.
This is an adaptation of a portion of a paper I wrote titled Islamic Antisemitism: A Critical Examination of Theological Foundations and Historical Manifestations, which I have yet to publish.