It’s happening again.

The old hatred—dressed in new clothes—marches forward like it never left.

I keep hearing the same hollow justifications, the same twisting of truth, the same whispers turned to shouts.
And this time, it’s not whispered in back rooms.
It’s livestreamed. Painted on walls. Shouted in the streets of major cities.
And worse—justified by people who claim to care about justice.

But you can always tell when something is older than we are.
This isn’t just politics.
It’s spiritual.

It’s the same serpent from Eden. The same spirit behind Pharaoh, Haman, Hitler.
It slithers through time, striking again at the people God chose to bear His name.

Yes—chose.

Not for dominance. Not for perfection.
But for covenant.

The children of Abraham weren’t selected to be untouchable—they were chosen to be a thread. A promise. A light.
And light, by its nature, reveals what darkness tries to hide.

I think of what Adonai said to Abraham:

“I will make you into a great nation, and I will bless you… and all peoples on earth will be blessed through you.” (Genesis 12:2–3)

That promise wasn’t revoked.
Not with exile.
Not with crucifixion.
Not with conquest.
Not even with genocide.

It still holds.

And I feel the weight of it again—watching history bend toward the same old pattern.
As if we haven’t learned a thing.

We forget the Holocaust while survivors still breathe.
We twist history to fit our hashtags.
We speak of justice, while ignoring the literal blood spilled on synagogue floors.

So what do we do?

We bless.

We stand in that ancient flow and speak what was always meant to be spoken:

May the Lord bless the children of Abraham.
May He guard their hearts and minds.
May He surround them with fire by night and cloud by day.
May He call to the descendants of Isaac, and the scattered ones of Jacob, and those grafted in by grace—
and remind them they are not forgotten.
Not forsaken.
Not alone.

And may we, those watching, never close our eyes.
Not this time.