WHEN THE SMOKE CLEARS

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California has a knack for making headlines, although not always for the right reasons. This week, Los Angeles County found itself at the forefront of the 24/7 news cycle—this time, because of the inferno sweeping through the Pacific Palisades neighborhood, Malibu, Hollywood Hills, and Altadena.

The raging wildfires destroyed homes, including, tragically, those of several friends and acquaintances. They are now homeless, with no material possessions except for the clothes on their backs.

Iconic public buildings are gone, and Malibu’s idyllic waterfront houses are husks, like a scene from a disaster movie that Hollywood is so fond of producing. The Pasadena Jewish Temple and Center was completely destroyed by the fire; thankfully, determined community members braved difficult conditions to save the congregation’s 13 Torah scrolls.

Entire streets have been reduced to ash, and the scale of destruction is staggering. Thousands of families have been displaced as firefighters desperately try to contain fires that continue to rampage at an alarming rate, fueled by gusty Santa Ana winds and dry conditions that have turned everything into tinder.

And, as all this unfolded, I couldn’t help but think: Was it all really such a surprise? Truthfully, it felt like watching a slow-motion train wreck that everyone knew was coming, but few seemed to have tried to stop.

Wildfires in Southern California are as predictable as bumper-to-bumper traffic on the 405. Climate experts, environmentalists, and firefighters have been sounding the alarm for years. The dry brush, gusty winds, and rising temperatures create a perfect storm every single year.

So why does the response still feel so haphazard and amateurish when the fires inevitably start? It’s almost as if the Sacramento and LA City Hall officials believe they can manifest a solution through sheer force of optimism.

Take Governor Gavin Newsom, for example. Now, there’s a man who loves a good press conference. Whether posing with shovels in front of a burnt-out forest or rattling off buzzwords like “resilience” and “climate action,” he certainly looks the part and says all the right things.

But when it comes to actual results? That’s a different story. Under Newsom’s watch, billions of dollars have been earmarked for wildfire prevention, but where has that money gone? Not to clearing dry brush, evidently. Not to reinforcing critical infrastructure. And certainly not to equipping fire departments with the resources they’ve been desperately asking for. Instead, the funds have vanished into a bureaucratic black hole.

And what about Mayor Karen Bass? Remarkably, she was in Ghana attending a presidential inauguration when the fires broke out. Why? It’s unclear how attending a foreign leader’s ceremony aligns with her responsibilities as the leader of Los Angeles—especially after being warned that the Santa Ana winds would be particularly severe this week.

Bass may be new to the job, but she’s had ample time to read the writing on the wall—or, in this case, the smoke in the sky. Los Angeles prides itself on being forward-thinking, yet where was the forward thinking when it came to wildfire preparedness?

How about investing in meaningful prevention efforts instead of waiting for disaster to strike? The unglamorous but essential work of creating firebreaks, upgrading emergency water supplies, and ensuring accessible evacuation routes has been glaringly absent.

Even more baffling is her administration’s recent $17.6 million cut to the Fire Department budget. These reductions affected crucial areas like pilot training and aerial firefighting capabilities—precisely the kind of resources needed to combat disasters like this. Leadership isn’t about showing up for the photo op after the fact; it’s about making sure the crisis doesn’t happen in the first place.

It’s not just the mayor who deserves scrutiny; local officials can’t escape criticism either. According to The New York Times, residents of Pacific Palisades have been sounding the alarm for years about the increasing frequency and intensity of wildfires in the region. Over the past decade, they’ve organized meetings, sent emails, and repeatedly urged local authorities to address evacuation challenges and take steps to mitigate future disasters, such as widening key evacuation routes or increasing funding for local fire stations.

In a 2020 message to Los Angeles City Council members, Palisades community leaders warned of “substantial risks to public safety due to crowded conditions causing back-ups on both substandard and standard streets during required evacuations.”

Now, some of those community leaders are homeless, their houses burnt to the ground, while the city councilors who ignored their warnings and pleas give TV interviews in front of the smoldering ruins.

Which brings me to Parshat Vayechi, the final Torah portion in Bereishit. Much of the early part of the portion focuses on Jacob’s decline and eventual passing. What stands out most is Jacob’s remarkable foresight. He gathers his sons, blesses them, and meticulously plans for his burial. He doesn’t just offer blessings; he gives each son specific directives about how they should conduct themselves to ensure their success in the future.

Jacob leaves nothing to chance. His final actions are a masterclass in preparation, securing his family’s future through thoughtful, proactive leadership. It’s the kind of leadership that’s so desperately needed in California—and indeed across the world—where leadership too often seems more focused on optics than on meaningful action.

The lesson from Jacob is that preparation isn’t just about avoiding chaos; it’s about laying the groundwork for success. While none of us can control events, we can—and must—be prepared for them, especially when they are entirely predictable.

Imagine what might have become of the Jewish people had Jacob not made the effort to ensure they were ready for every eventuality. The challenges his descendants faced were mitigated by the powerful lessons they had learned beforehand, equipping them to weather the storms that came their way.

That’s exactly what’s missing in California, and particularly in Los Angeles. Over the past few years, leaders should have been asking: What can we do to ensure that when wildfires inevitably hit urban Los Angeles, the response will be robust, coordinated, and effective, rather than chaotic and dangerous?

Instead, with their attention on everything except the job they were elected to do, local and state leaders have repeatedly demonstrated a troubling lack of competence. The devastation left in the wake of these wildfires isn’t just a natural disaster—it’s a glaring failure of leadership, plain and simple.

Of course, none of this is easy. Real leadership rarely is. But the alternative is precisely what we’re seeing now: lives upended, communities destroyed, and a growing sense of despair. The real tragedy is that it didn’t have to be this way. The wildfires were predictable. The solutions were well-known. The devastation was avoidable.

As the smoke clears and the rebuilding begins, perhaps it’s time to demand leaders who will take a page from Jacob’s playbook. Preparation isn’t glamorous. It doesn’t come with photo ops or viral soundbites. But it’s the difference between chaos and order, failure and a secure future. Jacob understood that. It’s high time California did too.