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A Message From the Torah for 2026: Live Now in a Way You’ll Be Proud of Later
A Torah scroll. Photo: RabbiSacks.org.
I have always cherished Ludwig van Beethoven’s last words, spoken on his deathbed: “Plaudite, amici, comedia finita est.” “Applaud, my friends, the comedy is over.”
This kind of blunt honesty only comes from people facing their final moments. The masks drop, the posturing stops, and what’s left is pure truth.
Steve Jobs was diagnosed with terminal cancer in October 2003. Remarkably, he lived for another eight years, during which he became deeply reflective, increasingly conscious of his legacy and of life’s meaning in ways he had never been before.
In the address he gave at the Stanford commencement in 2005, he told the graduating class and their families, “You can’t connect the dots looking forward — you can only connect them looking backward.”
He didn’t say it explicitly, but his words came from a deep awareness of his own mortality. The message was clear. He was looking back on his life, taking stock, and seeing patterns that only become clear near the end. When death feels real, clarity follows.
Jobs also talked to the Stanford students about his failure, about being fired from the company he started, and about death itself. Looking back, his speech feels less like a graduation talk and more like a final message. It wasn’t about money or material things, but about meaning. Some things in life matter. Others don’t. Some things are just noise. Others have real substance.
History is full of moments like this, when great figures, as their lives are coming to a close, suddenly see what really matters. Near the end of his life, Thomas Jefferson wrote to his beloved daughter, Martha Jefferson Randolph, “The last pang of life is in parting from you!”
What worried him most about death wasn’t losing power or fame, but the pain of being without those he loved. When all is said and done, relationships with our loved ones are what really matter, and our career or achievements pale into insignificance by comparison.
Sir Isaac Newton expressed something similar, though in a different way, as he looked back on his incredible life. Newton, whose discoveries changed how we see the universe, spoke with great humility: “I do not know what I may seem to the world — but as to myself, I seem to have been only like a boy playing on the seashore, and diverting myself now and then in finding a smoother pebble or a prettier shell than ordinary, whilst the great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me.”
Even after a lifetime of achievement, he didn’t focus on his success. Instead, he saw clearly how much was still unknown, and how even greatness can feel small when you look at life’s bigger picture.
This is the emotional and moral setting at the start of Parshat Vayechi, which holds the Torah’s great final conversation. Jacob is dying, and he knows it. In his last moments, he gathers his children and speaks to them — not as a nostalgic father looking back, but as someone who truly understands who they are and what each one needs to hear.
If we expect deathbed speeches to be warm and fuzzy, Jacob’s version of one will come as a surprise. Some of his words are blessings, but others are more like rebukes. Reuven is reminded he didn’t reach his potential. Shimon and Levi are called out for their violence. Yehuda is elevated to family leadership, but is also reminded that this role comes with responsibility, not privilege.
This isn’t a “feel good” speech. It’s a speech that values truth over comfort. And that’s exactly the lesson of Jacob’s last words: legacy isn’t about saying nice things, but about saying what’s needed. Jacob isn’t focused on how his sons feel right now. He cares about who they will become after he’s gone, and how his words will echo through their lives and future generations.
Which brings us to today’s world, where we tend to focus more on our image while we’re alive and often don’t think about how we’ll be remembered. Social media in particular has taught us to always project an image that’s curated and perfect in the here and now, with no thought about the long term impact.
Everything is about appearances and how things are seen in the moment. We tell our own stories as they happen, believing that if we control how things look, we can control the outcome.
Vayechi breaks that illusion. Jacob reveals something uncomfortable: you can’t write your own legacy. He is brutally honest with his sons, and in doing so, he also faces his own role as a father. He doesn’t hide the truth. He points out their patterns, their tendencies, their choices — not to shame them, but to help them see both their strengths and weaknesses, take responsibility, and grow into the best version of themselves.
Vayechi is honest, but it is not hopeless. Yaakov doesn’t say, “This is who you are, and you can’t change.” He says, “This is who you have been — now choose what to do with it.” Steve Jobs ended his Stanford speech with the famous line, “Stay hungry. Stay foolish.”
But the line before is even more telling. He called death “life’s change agent,” the force that clears away what doesn’t matter to make room for what does. The message is clear: it’s better to let that kind of clarity shape our lives now, instead of waiting until the end.
Vayechi teaches this lesson. When we reflect honestly, death doesn’t make life smaller — it makes it sharper. It removes pretense and leaves us with what really matters. Seeing our lives from a distance can be cleansing. The key is to live that way now, so we won’t need to revise it later.
It’s an idea that finds a moving expression in Viktor Frankl’s Man’s Search for Meaning. Frankl describes a woman who was his patient reflecting on her life, a life that was shaped by suffering and sacrifice as she cared for a severely disabled son.
Viewing her life as if from its end, she concludes — through tears — that it was not a failure. On the contrary, it was filled with meaning. The pain had turned her life into one of love and responsibility.
Frankl’s point is devastatingly simple: when life is seen through the lens of its conclusion, meaning often emerges where none had been visible before.
Steve Jobs was right: you can only connect the dots of a life by looking back. But Parshat Vayechi shows us we don’t have to wait until the end to start that process. Jacob connects the dots for his sons while he’s still alive — but more importantly, while they all still have many years to live.
The challenge he gives us is simple: live now in a way that will make sense later, when we look back. Because when the full story is told, the dots will connect, whether we like the picture or not. The only thing we really control is how we choose to draw them from the start.
The author is a rabbi in Beverly Hills, California.
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Pakistan, Indonesia Closing in on Jets and Drones Defense Deal, Sources Say
A JF-17 Thunder fighter jet of the Pakistan Air Force takes off from Mushaf base in Sargodha, north Pakistan, June 7, 2013. Photo: REUTERS/Zohra Bensemra
Indonesia‘s defense minister met Pakistan‘s air force chief in Islamabad to discuss a potential deal that includes the sale of combat jets and killer drones to Jakarta, three security officials with knowledge of the meeting on Monday said.
The talks come as Pakistan‘s defense industry moves forward with a series of defense procurement negotiations, including deals with Libya’s National Army and Sudan’s army, and looks to establish itself as a sizable regional player.
One source said the talks revolved around the sale of JF-17 jets, a multi-role combat aircraft jointly developed by Pakistan and China, and drones designed for surveillance and striking targets. The other two sources said the talks were in an advanced stage and involved more than 40 JF-17 jets. One of them said Indonesia was also interested in Pakistan‘s Shahpar drones.
The sources did not share any discussions about delivery timelines and the number of years a proposed deal would span.
Both Indonesia‘s Defense Ministry and Pakistan‘s military confirmed the meeting between Indonesian Defense Minister Sjafrie Sjamsoeddin and Pakistan‘s Air Chief Marshal Zaheer Ahmed Baber Sidhu.
“The meeting focused on discussing general defense cooperation relations, including strategic dialogue, strengthening communication between defense institutions, and opportunities for mutually beneficial cooperation in various fields in the long term,” defense ministry spokesperson Brigadier General Rico Ricardo Sirait told Reuters, adding the talks had not yet led to concrete decisions.
The Pakistani military confirmed the meeting in a statement and also said the defense minister met army chief Field Marshal Asim Munir for talks that “focused on matters of mutual interest, evolving regional and global security dynamics, and exploration of avenues for enhancing bilateral defense cooperation.”
INDONESIA REPLACING AGEING AIR FORCE FLEET
One additional security source with knowledge of military procurement talks said Pakistan was discussing the sale of JF-17 Thunder jets, air defense systems, training for junior, mid-level, and senior Indonesian air force officials, and engineering staff.
“The Indonesia deal is in the pipeline,” retired Air Marshal Asim Suleiman, who remains briefed on air force deals, told Reuters, adding that the number of JF-17 jets involved was close to 40.
Indonesia‘s President Prabowo Subianto was in Pakistan last month for a two-day visit for talks on improving bilateral ties, including defense.
Indonesia has put in a slew of orders for jets in the past few years, including 42 French Rafale jets worth $8.1 billion in 2022 and 48 KAAN fighter jets from Turkey last year to strengthen its air force and replace its ageing air force fleet.
Jakarta has also considered buying China’s J-10 fighter jets and is in talks to purchase US-made F-15EX jets.
PAKISTAN‘S RISING DEFENCE INDUSTRY
Interest in the Pakistani military’s weapons development program has surged since its jets were deployed in a short conflict with India last year.
The JF-17s have been at the center of that growing attention, figuring in a deal with Azerbaijan and the $4 billion weapons pact with the Libyan National Army.
Pakistan is also eyeing a defense pact with Bangladesh that could include the Super Mushshak training jets and JF-17s, as ties improve with Dhaka.
Reuters has also reported that Islamabad was in talks with Riyadh for a defense deal that could be worth between $2 billion and $4 billion and involves the conversion of Saudi loans into military supplies.
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When a Synagogue Burns in Mississippi, the Jewish Community Is on Trial
Illustrative: The remains of the Adas Israel synagogue in Duluth Minnesota after it was destroyed by fire, September 9, 2019. Photo: screenshot.
It happened again.
On January 10, 2026, the Beth Israel Congregation in Jackson, Mississippi — the only synagogue in the state capital — was deliberately set ablaze. Torah scrolls were destroyed. Offices and sacred spaces were gutted. Services were suspended indefinitely. This was not an accident. This was antisemitism in action. This was an attack on our people, our heritage, and our community.
Beth Israel has stood for more than 160 years as a pillar of Jewish life in Mississippi. Founded in 1860, it became the first synagogue in the state, and the spiritual home of generations of Jewish families in Jackson.
In 1967, during a period of intense resistance to civil rights, members of the Ku Klux Klan bombed the synagogue’s offices and damaged part of its library because its rabbi, Perry Nussbaum, spoke out against racism and stood in solidarity with the broader struggle for justice. Two months later, the same white supremacists bombed Rabbi Nussbaum’s home. The congregation rebuilt, continued its mission of social engagement, and became an enduring symbol of resilience and moral courage. And yet, decades later, Beth Israel faces another deliberate attack — a reminder that anti-Jewish hatred, while once carried out by the KKK, has found a new, resurgent justification in today’s surge of antisemitism.
As Jews and Zionists, we know this is not an isolated incident. It is part of a national epidemic of Jew-hatred that will not be solved by polite statements or fleeting news coverage.
In 2024, the FBI recorded the highest number of hate crimes ever against Jewish Americans — representing nearly 70 percent of all religion-based hate crimes, despite Jews comprising only 2 percent of the population. The Anti-Defamation League documented 9,354 antisemitic incidents nationwide, averaging more than 25 anti-Jewish acts per day — harassment, vandalism, assault, bomb threats, and terroristic intimidation.
These attacks are not abstract. They are assaults on our schools, synagogues, community centers, and public events. In New York City alone, 57 percent of recorded hate crimes were antisemitic, even though Jews make up only 12 percent of the population. These incidents are warnings, not anomalies. They are a call to action for every Jew, every Zionist, every supporter of Jewish life and democratic society.
Too often, violence against Jews is excused, minimized, or reframed as political debate. Let me be clear: anti-Jewish hatred has no justification — not as political protest, not as critique of government policy, and certainly not as legitimate discourse. Calling for the destruction of Jews, attacking Jewish institutions, or celebrating violence against Jews is not activism. It is bigotry. It is terror. And when these acts are treated as “one-offs” by the media and authorities, society begins to normalize Jew-hatred.
Our safety is our responsibility. We cannot wait for others to defend us. As a community, we must rise visibly, vocally, and strategically: speak out against antisemitism; demand law enforcement rigorously enforce hate crime laws; protect our institutions with security and moral support; and refuse to let incidents fade from memory. This is not optional. Silence now is complicity.
History and current events show us the stakes. From attacks on synagogues in France, Germany, and the US, to bomb threats and vandalism across campuses and community centers, Jew-hatred is often excused or rationalized — sometimes internationally, sometimes domestically. We have seen how quickly tolerance for attacks on Jews can lead to broader attacks on democracy itself. When Jewish life is threatened, American society is threatened.
What begins with Jews does not end with Jews. Attacks on Jews are a symptom of democratic decay. We, the inheritors of a legacy of survival, resilience, and moral courage, must respond with strength, unity, and action.
To Jewish Americans: stand unapologetically and visibly.
To Zionists: turn moral outrage into organized action and communal defense.
To all defenders of democracy: recognize that antisemitism is not an isolated problem; it is a crisis of values — and act accordingly.
The fire in Mississippi is not just a warning flare. We will not let it be a signal of defeat. We will rise. We will resist. We will protect. And we will fight forward — unapologetically, visibly, and together. Jewish life, and the principles we defend, depend on it.
Yuval David is an Emmy Award–winning journalist, filmmaker, and actor. An internationally recognized advocate for Jewish and LGBT rights, he is a strategic advisor to diplomatic missions and NGOs, and a contributor to global news outlets in broadcast and print news. He focuses on combating antisemitism, extremism, and promoting democratic values and human dignity. Learn more at YuvalDavid.com, instagram.com/Yuval_David_, x.com/yuvaldavid, youtube.com/yuvaldavid, and across social media.
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From Kanye, to Nick Fuentes and Megyn Kelly: Why J.D. Vance’s Silence Matters Now
US Vice President JD Vance delivers remarks at the Wilshire Federal Building in Los Angeles, California, U.S., June 20, 2025. Phone: REUTERS/Daniel Cole/File Photo
In moments of political stress, the most revealing test of leadership is not rhetoric but refusal: what a leader will not tolerate, what he or she will not excuse, and what they will not leave unnamed.
That is why Vice President J.D. Vance’s persistent failure to confront antisemitism on the populist right must be treated as a primary concern, not a side issue.
In a recent interview with Tucker Carlson, Megyn Kelly spoke approvingly of Nick Fuentes — an openly antisemitic extremist who has praised Hitler, embraced totalitarianism, and argued that Jews should be excluded from American civic life.
Kelly described Fuentes as “very smart” and suggested his ideas had value for the country. Carlson appeared to agree. Within 24 hours of that exchange, Candace Owens reposted Kanye West’s infamous “Death Con 3 on Jewish people” tweet and called it a “vibe.”
This is not fringe behavior leaking into the mainstream. It is the mainstream.
And it is happening inside the political ecosystem that Vice President Vance now helps lead.
Vance’s ties to Carlson are not incidental. Carlson is not merely adjacent to Vance’s politics; he is a close ally, and Vance even employs Carlson’s son. Carlson’s reach — tens of millions of people each week across podcasts, clips, and social platforms — is enormous. That influence now includes the normalization of figures and ideas that were once considered politically radioactive.
That is the context in which Vance’s silence must be judged.
A growing cohort of influential right-wing pundits has adopted a conspiratorial style long associated with antisemitic politics. With Candace Owens as a notable exception, most avoid naming “the Jews” directly, relying instead on euphemisms — “globalists,” shadowy elites, cultural engineers, disloyal insiders. The vocabulary is coded; the architecture is unmistakable.
Carlson has popularized this conspiratorial worldview for millions. Owens has given it its most explicit voice — recycling classic antisemitic libels about Jewish control of finance and media, falsely blaming Jews for the slave trade, attacking Jewish identity itself, and even defending Kanye West’s call for violence against Jews.
Kelly has moved from accommodation to outright normalization, publicly praising Fuentes and treating an admirer of Hitler as a legitimate political voice.
Together, these figures reach tens of millions of Americans across television, YouTube, X, podcasts, and livestreams. Fuentes himself commands a large online following through his “Groyper” network. This is not marginal radicalism. It is mass politics.
Yet from the highest levels of Republican leadership — including the vice presidency — there has been no sustained, unequivocal rejection of these figures or the ideology they propagate.
When asked about antisemitism on the right, Vance has insisted that figures like Tucker Carlson are unfairly maligned and that the Republican “big tent” does not have an antisemitism problem. His framing reduces antisemitism to a vague subset of “extremism,” effectively sidestepping the ideology and its consequences.
The only clear break in Vance’s pattern of evasion proves the rule. When Fuentes grotesquely attacked Vance’s wife on racist grounds, Vance responded clearly and immediately.
But when Jews are targeted, when antisemitic narratives are normalized, and when eliminationist rhetoric spreads through the very coalition that sustains him, the response is silence or deflection. That distinction matters.
Silence Is a Choice and Antisemitism Is Not a Side Issue
No serious political actor is unaware of what is happening. This antisemitism is not subtle. It is rhetorically patterned and widely documented.
We have already seen where this pattern leads. Democratic leaders long ignored antisemitism on the progressive left, laundering it as “anti-Zionism” and activism. It produced exclusion, purity tests, and the quiet normalization of treating mainstream Jewish identity as a problem.
The Democratic Party’s antisemitism problem was not an accident. It was the result of leaders who refused to draw lines early. Some notable Republicans have shown that it is possible to confront this threat directly. Vance, however, appears to be repeating the Democrats’ failure from the right.
Antisemitism does not behave like a policy disagreement that can be managed. It behaves like fire. Once given oxygen, it spreads — from insinuation to justification, from justification to action. Once permitted, it does not remain contained.
And the problem doesn’t just concern Jewish Americans. Antisemitism has always been the earliest warning sign of democratic decay.
Societies do not begin by persecuting everyone. They begin by deciding that one group does not fully belong. Jews have been assigned that role with grim consistency across history.
When antisemitism is normalized — explained, contextualized, ignored — violence follows. Moral barriers erode. Victims are abstracted.
American Jews are seeing those patterns again: campus exclusions, ideological tests, street violence explained away as “context,” and political leaders unwilling to draw lines. This is why antisemitism is not just another culture-war issue. It is a stress test for liberal democracy itself.
Leaders draw boundaries. Through what they name, condemn, or ignore, they signal which ideas corrode civic life and which are allowed to spread.
Vance’s refusal to confront antisemitism — while some figures in his political orbit praise Fuentes and his coalition gives space to rhetoric that threatens Jews — sends a clear message: some forms of hatred are acceptable if they arrive wrapped in populist grievance. There is no neutral ground here. To refuse to draw the line is to move it.
A Moment of Decision
This is not a demand for ideological purity. It is a demand for moral clarity.
Criticizing elites is legitimate. Questioning institutions is healthy. Good-faith debate about America’s relationship with Israel is perfectly valid in a democracy. None of that requires trafficking in conspiratorial antisemitism, excusing it, or pretending not to see it when it appears.
History is unforgiving on this point. Leaders who believed they could harness antisemitism without being consumed by it were always wrong.
J.D. Vance is not a spectator in this moment. He is Vice President of the United States, with power and choice.
If antisemitism continues to metastasize inside the political coalition Vance is helping to build, he will not merely have failed to stop it. He will own part of the cost.
Micha Danzig is an attorney, former IDF soldier, and former NYPD officer. He writes widely on Israel, Zionism, antisemitism, and Jewish history. He serves on the board of Herut North America.