The General Synod debate on Israel and Palestine has understandably caused pain and anxiety for many within Britain's Jewish community. I have read the responses of the Chief Rabbi, the Board of Deputies and many Jewish friends with great care. I understand why many have interpreted Synod's decision as a setback for Christian-Jewish relations. I want to say, as simply and honestly as I can, that for many of us who supported the amended motion, that was not how we understood what we were doing.
One of the enduring interests of my life has been Christian-Jewish dialogue and the Church's response to the Holocaust. But that has never been simply an academic interest. It has shaped my friendships, my priesthood and my understanding of the Gospel itself. Today I serve the Church in Kilburn and West Hampstead, one of the most diverse communities in Britain. My neighbours are Jewish, Muslim and Christian. During my years as a Camden councillor, many of my closest colleagues were Jewish. They remain close friends today. We still discuss politics, but we also discuss theology, Scripture and what it means to live faithfully after the Shoah. Those conversations have enriched my own faith. Only a few days before travelling to Synod, I took the Gospel assembly in our church school, which is over 50 per cent Muslim. As usual, the children prayed for the situation in Gaza. Two days later, Rabbi Jeremy Gordon welcomed me into his home. Jeremy was the first local faith leader to visit me when I arrived here eight years ago. I count him as a friend who is able to offer perspectives on my own ministry and theology from a contemporary British Jewish perspective.
Whenever I attend events at the New London Synagogue, I have to register my name in advance, bring photographic identification and pass through security simply to worship alongside my Jewish neighbours. No one should have to worship behind security. The fact that Jewish communities in Britain do so because antisemitism remains a real and present danger should shame us all. Not far from where I live, two Jewish people were murdered after leaving a community event. Jewish ambulances have been attacked. Jewish schools and synagogues live with levels of security that most churches never have to contemplate. That reality breaks my heart.
It is precisely because I take that history and that present reality so seriously that I believe the State of Israel has the right to exist in peace and security. After centuries of persecution culminating in the Holocaust, the existence of a Jewish homeland is not an abstract political question for me. It is bound up with the survival and security of the Jewish people. That conviction, however, does not require me to support every action of the present Israeli government. Friendship never asks us to suspend our moral judgement. Indeed, genuine friendship sometimes requires us to speak difficult truths. I believe the suffering of the Palestinian people in Gaza and Palestine is real, devastating and demands a response from the Church. I also believe the testimony of Palestinian Christians deserves to be heard. For me, those convictions do not compete with one another. They belong together.
I also recognise that, for many of my Jewish friends, the Kairos documents themselves represent a red line. I understand why. Many read parts of those texts as denying or diminishing Jewish history, identity and connection to the land, and as containing language that makes genuine dialogue more difficult. Those concerns deserve to be heard with respect.
For my part, I approach Kairos differently. I do not believe the Church should receive it uncritically, nor do I believe it should be treated as beyond criticism. Like many documents born out of profound suffering and conflict, it contains insights that deserve careful attention and claims that deserve careful scrutiny. Hearing Palestinian Christians does not require uncritical agreement with every word they have written.
Indeed, one of the reasons I brought my amendments was precisely to ensure that engagement with Kairos sat alongside an explicit commitment to repentance for the Church's historic contribution to antisemitism, a deeper understanding of Judaism, and continued dialogue with Jewish and Muslim communities. Some of my Jewish friends will continue to regard Kairos as a line they cannot cross, and I respect that judgement. I have reached a different conclusion: that the Church can engage critically with the document while remaining uncompromising in its opposition to antisemitism and steadfast in its commitment to Christian–Jewish friendship.
I could not have voted for the motion that was tabled at Synod. But during the debate I brought amendments which, after constructive discussions with those proposing the motion, were incorporated into the final text. They strengthened the motion's commitment to repentance for the Church's historic contribution to antisemitism and to the situation now affecting the Palestinian people. They reaffirmed Christian-Jewish dialogue, encouraged a deeper understanding of Judaism and other faiths, and committed the Church to continued dialogue with Jewish and Muslim voices in the pursuit of justice, equality, peace and reconciliation. Those amendments mattered to me because I wanted the motion to say clearly that Christian solidarity with Palestinians should never come at the expense of Christian friendship with Jews.
Growing up in Northern Ireland taught me that lasting peace is not built by communities speaking only to themselves. The peace process began when people found the courage to hear stories and analysis that were painful, uncomfortable and sometimes profoundly difficult. Listening did not replace justice; it made justice more possible. That experience is engraved in my heart. So I want my Jewish friends to know this: many of us who voted for the amended motion did so not because we take your fears less seriously, but because we take them so seriously. We know the history of Christian antisemitism. We know the wounds of the Holocaust have not disappeared. We know antisemitism is rising once again. And we know that none of that absolves us from hearing the suffering of Palestinian Christians and Palestinians. For Christians, these are not competing loyalties.
The Gospel calls us to love our neighbours – plural, all of them. It calls us to repent of our own failures, to tell the truth about suffering wherever we find it, to reject antisemitism and anti-Muslim hatred with equal clarity, and to keep building friendships even when disagreement remains. I hope that, in time, the amendments accepted by Synod will be seen as a sign that many within the Church of England remain deeply committed to Christian-Jewish friendship. We may disagree about the decisions Synod reached, but I hope we will continue to meet, to listen, to learn from one another and to remain neighbours. After everything our communities have endured together, that work matters now more than ever.
Robert Thompson is the Vicar of St Mary’s, Kilburn and St James’ in West Hampstead
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