Hillels expand mental-health supports as Jewish students retreat from campus life amid rising antisemitism

When Jewish students at the University of British Columbia began skipping lectures, avoiding parts of campus, and retreating almost exclusively to the Hillel building during the weeks after Oct. 7, 2023, staff realized the crisis was no longer just a matter of physical safety—it was becoming a mental-health emergency.

“Simple classroom environments have become hostile,” said Ohad Gavrieli, executive director of Hillel BC. “Students have become a target, and the universities have become at times just an unwelcoming place for Jewish, Zionist and Israeli students.”

The shift was sudden. In the days after the Hamas-led terrorist attacks and Israel’s military response, students came to Hillel anxious and grieving. But by late November, the concerns had deepened. Many no longer felt comfortable accessing university counselling services, worried they would be misunderstood or forced to justify their distress.

“What our students were telling us is that they need to process what they’re going through, but they feel uncomfortable going to the university to process that,” Gavrieli said. They wanted someone who immediately understood their context without explanation. “They needed somebody who would say, ‘Of course you’re suffering’.”

That growing reluctance to engage with campus life reflects a broader trend emerging across Canada and the United States. Early research from the University of British Columbia suggests that when Jewish students experience increases in antisemitism-related stress—even week to week—their depressive symptoms also rise. The same pattern holds for stress tied to the Israel–Palestine conflict itself.

The study, led by Talia Morstead, a PhD student at UBC, and psychology professor Anita DeLongis, followed 253 Jewish students at 108 institutions through weekly surveys from January to mid-May 2024. It found that students who coped by withdrawing—avoiding conversations, avoiding news, avoiding campus spaces—recorded significantly worse mental-health outcomes than those who sought support, talked to others, or made concrete plans in response to discrimination. The researchers warn that institutional climates that downplay antisemitism can unintentionally encourage avoidance coping, which their data links to higher depression.

A counselling operation

At Hillel BC, the mental-health demand escalated quickly. Within weeks of Oct. 7, the organization partnered with Jewish Family Services (JFS) to bring a counselling intern on site at its UBC building. That intern was fully booked, often seeing six or seven students a day. A second intern was added, but both soon reached capacity as more students expressed fear, isolation, and uncertainty.

By early 2024, Gavrieli said, staff realized the issues being brought forward required a more experienced clinician. Students were describing harassment in class, fears of physical intimidation, and resurfacing trauma tied to family histories in Israel or the Holocaust. Hillel BC hired a certified counsellor, ensuring that students could be seen promptly both in person and online.

This year, the organization works with a full-time registered counsellor through JFS while also maintaining its own hourly clinician to prevent waitlists. A third specialist is designated to support students facing severe or targeted antisemitic incidents—cases involving harassment in classrooms or threatening interactions in public campus spaces.

The expansion also prompted the launch of a new online intake tool called ‘We Are Here’, a portal on Hillel BC’s website that allows students to identify the issues they are facing and route themselves toward appropriate support. The system walks them through questions about what they are experiencing and clarifies whether their concerns require a clinical referral or emergency services.

“We’re not an emergency line,” Gavrieli said. “If you’re suffering from something that requires immediate attention… you have to call 911 or go to the emergency room.”

‘Hillel became a refuge’

Clinical counsellor Talya Wollner sees the consequences of these stressors firsthand. She completed her practicum at Hillel last year and now works there as a registered clinician through JFS. In the months immediately following Oct. 7, she noticed students isolating themselves to an extent that went beyond typical campus anxiety.

“I supported a lot of students who were just feeling a kind of general sense of isolation on campus,” Wollner said. Some began withdrawing from classes altogether, showing up in person only at the Hillel building. “Hillel became a refuge for these students… The main concern was that they weren’t integrating into other parts of the campus.”

Protests, charged classroom discussions and hostile comments from peers left students questioning where it was safe to be. For some, the emotional response manifested as outward anger—what Wollner called “dysregulated anger”—which only deepened their sense of otherness. Others responded by shrinking their routines dramatically, avoiding certain buildings, certain professors, and sometimes nearly the entire campus.

These patterns align closely with the findings of the Morstead–DeLongis study, which found that students relying heavily on avoidance as a coping mechanism experienced worse mental-health outcomes, while those who engaged in “approach coping”—seeking support, communicating, gathering information—showed more resilience.

Wollner said the age range she sees, typically between 16 and 26, is already a vulnerable period for mental-health difficulties, identity formation, and the onset of anxiety or depression. In that context, the spike in antisemitism and uncertainty around the war compounds an already fragile time. Visibly Jewish students, such as those who wear kippot, often tell her they are unsure how openly they can express their identity outside Hillel’s walls.

A trauma-informed approach to safety and identity

Wollner approaches her sessions using “a very trauma-informed lens,” slowing students down and helping them understand what fear and threat do to the brain. She spends time explaining the fight-or-flight response and teaches mindfulness and grounding techniques to help regulate that trauma response.

Her work extends into practical planning. She speaks with students about how to navigate classrooms safely, how to decide which events to attend, and how to maintain connection rather than retreat into complete avoidance.

When a student expresses active plans to harm themselves or others, Wollner collaborates with them on a detailed safety plan and connects them to crisis resources such as the B.C. Crisis Centre or JFS’s emergency support. She notes that no crisis services in British Columbia are designed specifically with Jewish students in mind.

One barrier she sees is simply unfamiliarity with therapy itself. Many students have never accessed counselling before and fear a formal, clinical environment.

“My main focus is to always make it as accessible as possible,” she said. “I will go on a walk with a client. I will go get coffee with them. I do not need to sit in a chair with them and stare them in the eyes and say, ‘Tell me everything.’ It’s about demystifying what therapy is.”

A wider shift toward mental-health support

The shift at Hillel BC reflects a broader evolution within Hillel organizations, particularly in Ontario. In an email to The CJN, Jay Solomon, chief advancement officer for Hillel Ontario, said the organization has “had an in-house psychotherapist for the past several years” and now employs a province-wide team of wellness professionals who focus on campus programming with a mental-health lens. He emphasized that “the strategic decision to invest in wellness began well-before 10/7.”

According to Hillel Ontario’s 2024–25 impact report, its wellness team has expanded to eight professionals—growing from a single therapist to what the organization describes as “a multi-campus network of care, connection, and support.” The report notes that Jewish students last year sought out Hillel “not just for safety or belonging, but for healing,” and concludes that mental wellness “had to be foundational.”