The kids are alright

There is a moment in the Eurovision Song Contest 2026 last weekend that I cannot shake.

As Israeli singer Noam Bettan stood before millions, surrounded by boos, hostility, and the ugly spectacle of a crowd drunk on self-righteousness, he did something extraordinary. He recited the Shema.

Not as performance. Not as provocation. But as instinct.

While others screamed, jeered, and reveled in mob behavior, this young man stood with composure, dignity, and faith. In the face of hatred masquerading as activism, he turned to God.

And I realized: this is OUR future.

For years, we have been told that young people are lost — distracted by trends, untethered from identity, faith, or purpose.

We watch overindulged activists with blue hair bounce from one fashionable cause to another, shouting slogans they barely understand while vandalizing the very values of tolerance and pluralism they claim to champion.

But amid all the noise, something else has quietly emerged.

Our kids.

The Jewish kids.

The young people who, instead of collapsing under pressure, are standing taller because of it.

Last week, the World Jewish Congress marked its 90th anniversary during our Governing Board meeting. Among the most powerful moments was hearing from Jewish students who spoke candidly about the hostility and isolation they are confronting on university campuses around the world.

When asked whether they were afraid, the President of the European Union of Jewish Students answered with striking clarity: “No. We are angry.” Angry at the betrayal of institutions meant to protect them. Disappointed in universities that have too often remained silent. But afraid?

No. Not anymore.

In my own family, I watch our children with awe at how they have taken to this new responsibility.

After the horrors of October 7, my nephew — a Muay Thai fighter from the US, with every reason to stay comfortably removed from the war — decided to go fight with his people. Not because it is easy. Not because it was expected. But because he understood that when Jews are under attack, you do not outsource responsibility.

My daughter, a social media influencer who could protect her career by staying silent, chooses instead to speak publicly against antisemitism and declare that she would not be intimidated. In an era where so many trade conviction for likes and applause, she refused to surrender her identity for acceptance.

And my son and nephews who walk through the world with kippot and tzitzit like it’s the most natural thing in the world even when it puts them at risk for harassment.

Again and again, across campuses and communities, we see young Jews finding one another, defending one another, and giving one another strength, wearing Jewish symbols larger and bolder than we ever did.

While others use elite educations as an excuse for bullying, harassment, and intellectual dishonesty, our children are building community, resilience, and conviction.

That is what I saw on the Eurovision stage.

A young Jew, surrounded by hostility and hatred, responding not with rage, but with faith.

And suddenly, despite everything, I felt hopeful.

The kids are all right.