My 12-Year-Old On The Hero's Journey, the Burning Bush, And Climate Change

Sharing some Gen Alpha wisdom

Hi friends.

Passing on the torah across generations

How are you? In the past week, my husband and I threw a b’ mitzvah, welcomed dozens of our closest friends and family members to town, laughed, cried, sang, danced and kvelled over our first born. It was a major milestone on the parenting journey. And the message my kid shared was so spot on with what we talk about here that I had to share it with you.

Rites of passage

“Bar mitzvah” literally means “Son of the commandments.” The ritual marks a Jewish child’s coming of age, traditionally meaning they take on the full responsibility of Jewish law, and demonstrate their learning by being called to read the Torah. The ceremony and rituals of course keep evolving. For example, the first “bat mitzvah” for a Jewish girl was held just over a century ago.

As a parent and someone who writes and thinks about parenting, I’ve grown to appreciate this tradition more and more over time. I find mainstream American culture is lacking in rites of passage, especially at the time of puberty itself. (Check out Christopher Pepper’s Substack, Teen Health Today, for more on that topic).

Teenagers, lacking a public and positive alternative, tend to explore their independence in secret and in not-so-great ways, by taking risks with peers. Our culture places a lot of emphasis on individual achievement, but the B’ mitzvah is about belonging. And it’s about responsibility, as well as independence.

A child is being guided to study the sacred texts of our people, which are full of ethical ideas; understand what’s being asked of them; and then take it on themselves. Our community, Lab/Shul, focuses on personal and creative interpretations of the text, as well as on social justice and inclusivity. And singing and celebration. When we started on this journey a year ago, we were thrilled.

Then October 7th happened. Anti-Semitism is on the rise globally, and I am seeing the Jewish community—families, friends—being bitterly, bitterly torn apart in a way I’ve never experienced in my lifetime. Someone in my social circle was killed by Hamas on the 7th, and I know people with multiple family members killed by Israeli bombs in Gaza. The Israeli military, with full backing of the US government, has killed one percent of the population there, including about 10,000 children and three of its own hostages.

It’s a hard time to invite your beloved child into a public celebration of being Jewish, not to mention any public celebration of any kind at a moment of such heavy trauma and suffering. Some of my instinct—and this also feels like an intergenerational trauma response— is to hide them from our heritage. Do I really need to pass all of this down? Is it going to be more of a burden than a blessing?

And I think that’s sadly a common experience in these times. It can feel like all of our joys are tempered. It can feel hard to know how much of reality our kids are really ready for, and how to prepare them, and if we even can.

In the end, we trusted the process of our ancestors, which is to surround our kids with love and care and encourage them to explore, ask their own questions, and take what’s useful from the past into the future.

And my kid came through in the most incredible way. The weekly portion of the Torah she landed on was Shemot, which is where the burning bush appears to Moses. God is there to tell Moses that he needs to go to the Pharaoh and free his people, Israel.

Moses balks:

“Moses said to God, ‘Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and free the Israelites from Egypt?”

This reminded Lu of Joseph Campbell’s Hero’s Journey, which they learned about in Social Studies last year; specifically, the hero’s “call to adventure” followed by “the refusal of the call.”

And Lu decided to explore the question: Thinking of climate change as the burning bush of these times, why do we refuse the call, and how can we overcome that resistance? (I promise I did not put them up to this. In fact, she refused to show me her speech until very late in the game).

Graphic by Thea Cooke

Here’s an excerpt from Lu’s talk:

We, like Moses, have been born into a world with a problem. We, like Moses, have gotten used to it. We may even have benefited from the problem—at least in the short term. And our attempts to fix this problem are half-hearted at best. 

Until one day we are reminded.

The burning bush is a wake-up call for Moses.

What do you think of when I yell the word

FIRE!!

It can mean a lot of things, but in our world the most obvious meaning is danger. 

 So the question is; what is that fire? What is that danger?

…What I was thinking about when I read this, is climate change, global warming. My generation, and also the one before, were brought into a world with rising temperatures as a problem. Most of us have been educated or at least made aware of it.  Somehow, we’ve accepted this as reality. That we are destroying the world we live in. That soon enough we’ll kill ourselves off. It seems obvious that something needs to be done, right? So: what gets in the way?

Remember, Moses doesn't accept the bush's assignment immediately. Something is holding him back. 

We too may have things holding us back from doing what we need to do.  What are those things?  [Audience responses; we’re too busy; self doubt, feeling inadequate; someone else would be better at it; fear of failure]

Moses is scared. He hides his face from God. He does not want to shoulder the responsibility of saving his people, and even more, he does not want the blame if he fails. So, he comes up with an excuse - that he is inferior and incapable. 

Why should I have to be the one to put this fire out? Can’t this superpowered divine being do it instead? Can’t the fire department? It’s not even my fault that there’s a fire. I am unqualified. I can’t make a difference anyway. Make someone else do it instead, have someone else accept responsibility. 

That’s the thought process that I think Moses goes through.

… How does Moses reassure himself that he is capable?

I think the first step is to realize that you don’t have as much of a choice as you think you do.

Just in case you didn’t hear me the first time, I’m going to say this again:  I need you to realize that you don’t really have as much of a choice as you think.

Scary, right?

For Moses, there’s a high chance that God will punish him if he doesn’t agree to talk with Pharaoh. For us, our fire- if thinking from the global warming perspective- is very much actual. Fires, floods, droughts, famines, rising oceans– need I go on? Many people have died. Will die. Are dying. We have nowhere else to go if climate change isn’t fixed– sorry, Elon- and time is running short. Therefore, action is required, whether we like it or not.

So in some ways, it’s a relief because your feelings of self-consciousness or inadequacy are actually irrelevant. 

The only thing that qualifies anyone who sees a fire, to say “FIRE!!” is that they have vocal cords. It doesn’t matter who you are or how good you are at giving a speech, it matters that you noticed that the bush is on fire! 

You don’t need to be capable, you just need to be there. HINENI – I AM HERE.

PS. Lu is donating a portion of all B' Mitzvah gifts to the following two organizations.

Global Greengrants Fund Since 1993, Global Greengrants Fund has been one of the leading organizations in the world supporting grassroots-led efforts to protect the planet and the rights of people. 

Food Bank for New York City

PPS. My friend Stephanie Malia Krauss, whose book Whole Child, Whole Life you should know about, recently asked me about Jewish/Palestinian youth peace-building work to donate to and support.

Seeds of Peace is probably best-known in this area. Susan Dominus did an awesome story for the NYT about it recently.

I would also check out Standing Together . Here is an online panel they are doing with my shul at the end of the month And Sulha Peace Project.