Of course! Jewish people in Germany came from all walks of life and were members of almost all social classes, save the landed nobility and peasantry. They also served in the World War I, in higher than average numbers and with great distinction. This latter point we know because the high command commissioned a report to investigate if Jewish soldiers were more cowardly than their fellows. When the report showed the opposite to be true, based on casualty figures and decorations, the high command had the report buried. World War I is essential to answering your question, because the Versailles settlement is the central animus of German nationalism after the war, and it touched everyone across ethnic divides and the political spectrum.

Perhaps the most famous Jewish figure associated first with a nationalist policy of resisting Versailles (before advocating a policy of “fulfillment” of its aims) was Walther von Rathenau. Prior to the war he was an intellectual and director of the German version of General Electric. During the war, he coordinated the armaments industry and according to Michael Geyer was a chief advocate of a “people’s war” (like the French Revolutionary levee en masse) to repel the Allies, when the high command wanted an armistice in fall 1918. While he eventually came round to the idea that fulfilling the terms of Versailles was in Germany’s best interest, this was still predicated on his German nationalism.

(For his trouble, Rathenau was murdered in 1922 by a far-right hit squad, one of the successors yo the Freikorps and predecessors to the right wing groups which coalesced around the NSDAP).

As for the Nazis rise, most German Jews were obviously troubled by them. Most were liberal or conservative nationalists, not fascists, and there wasn’t a place for them in Hitler’s rabidly anti-Semitic party anyway. Richard Evans uses two good examples of German Jewish nationalists in his Third Reich trilogy. One is the writer Viktor Klemperer, a war veteran and liberal who wants to see German honor restored but becomes a valuable eyewitness to the “social death” of German Jews during the Third Reich. The other example (and I’m sorry, but the name escapes me and I don’t have my books with me) is the husband of a diarist Evans uses in his account. He is initially a Nazi supporter and even appointed block warden (a minor neighborhood-watch type post) before his origins are discovered! Again, his story ends up being a useful illustration of the social death of German Jews, as they become increasingly ostracized. This is partially staved off for veterans, in fact, when Hindenburg steps in to ensure that pensions and benefits are paid to Jewish veterans, though this ends after his death in 1934.

And nationalism remains a complicated thing, never completely swallowed by Nazism. Many Jews remain in Germany after the Nazi seizure of power because it’s their country, they love it, and “they” (the Nazis) are not behaving as real Germans ought to. After the war, some Jewish people even remained a bit nostalgic for prewar Germany (and Austria). Historian Tony Judt in Thinking the Twentieth Century describes his parents bewilderment and disgust when his in-laws reminisce about prewar “Mitteleuropa,” the urban and cosmopolitan world destroyed by Nazism. The reason for the disgust and fond memories is that Judt’s parents are Romanian and Russian Jews, while his in-laws are Germans. They want to go back to that place, before the Nazis ruined it. His parents never saw that world, and as non-Germans identify that world with everything that killed their families and friends in Eastern Europe.