Posted on 07/13/25
We’ve all heard it, said half in jest, half in resignation:
"This generation of kids… it’s just not like it used to be."
Yes, there’s truth behind those words.
However, we need to ask ourselves honestly:
What kind of world are our children really growing up in?
Even in our most sheltered homes, where Torah is cherished and values are front and center, our children are shaped by a world louder, faster, and more intrusive than anything we knew.
They’re bombarded with information, opinions, and expectations from the moment they open their eyes.
They know more, hear more, and process more — often long before they’re ready.
And it’s not only the ideas they’re exposed to.
The pull of gashmiyus is stronger and more sophisticated than ever.
They don’t just see abundance — they see it curated, polished, and marketed at every turn.
Trendy eateries, designer branding.
Yes, there are real challenges.
But those challenges are ours to shoulder.
It’s on us to build fences, do the research, set up systems, and form safety nets.
It’s our job to guide, to protect, to prepare.
It was a beautiful Shabbos afternoon in Camp Romimu.
The Shabbos Afternoon Learning Program had gone strong for hours, hundreds of boys immersed in Torah. Later, I sat with a group of boys from my division, just shmoozing, unwinding.
At one point, I said, “It’s really amazing. Boys these days are amazing.”
One boy looked up and smiled. “It’s funny,” he said, “everyone always says our generation is so difficult…”
And that’s when it hit me.
We don’t say it to hurt them.
We say it because it feels true. The world feels so unrecognizable.
But what message do they actually hear?
What do they internalize?
Because this generation isn’t only different.
It’s remarkable.
Over the past few weeks in camp, I saw it again and again, with my own eyes. And that’s what makes what I’ve seen this summer so moving. Because even with all that — especially with all that — they’re rising.
I saw it in the boy standing quietly by his seat, learning a half hour before Shabbos davening.
I saw it that rainy weekday afternoon when a sudden thunderstorm caught us off guard. As the rain started pouring, counselors gathered the boys under cover and did a quick headcount.
A moment later, a junior counselor came over, worried. “Where’s Ari?” he asked. And what struck me most was that it wasn’t just the staff — the campers themselves had noticed he was missing and urged us to check.
That’s achrayus. That’s achdus. In that moment, it wasn’t only about staff responsibility — it was about a bunk of boys who truly cared for each other.
I saw it again the morning after we returned from Kalahari Water Park — 3:30 a.m. back in camp. We expected drowsy boys, sluggish tefillah… but davening was strong. The learning groups afterward were alive, electric.
And every night, well past regular schedule, boys stay for “Later Seder.”
No one’s forcing them.
They just want to learn more.
I saw it at a camp carnival, when the boys were talking to one of the workers about honesty. They challenged him to walk around with a twenty-dollar bill, asking if it belonged to anyone. He did — and not a single boy claimed it.
The worker was shocked. “In my circles,” he said, “someone would have taken it immediately.”
But our boys didn’t.
I see it in boys standing on benches during zemiros, singing with heart and soul, swept up in the ruach of Shabbos.
These aren’t isolated stories. They’re happening in camps across the country.
And beyond camp, all over the map of Klal Yisrael.
Look around at the children of Klal Yisrael. See the strides they’re making.
We speak often, and justifiably, about the challenges.
But we don’t speak nearly enough about the greatness.
Yes, they struggle.
But they care.
They want to be good.
And they are.
It’s easy to see what’s missing.
But if we stop, look, and really listen, we’ll see something incredible unfolding.
But they?
They need to hear something else entirely.
They need to hear that we believe in them.
That they are capable. That they are great.
I’m reminded of a story Rabbi Nosson Muller, Menahel of Yeshiva Tiferes Tzvi of Chicago, shared.
A few years ago, Rabbi Muller went to visit the new home of a former talmid. As the couple proudly showed him around, he noticed a particularly striking mezuzah case on one of the doorposts. Curious, he asked where it came from.
The talmid’s wife then shared something deeply moving:
“I had a very difficult childhood. My parents divorced when I was young, and from then on, it felt like hardship after hardship kept coming my way.
The only refuge I had was my day in school. Even though I was defiant, refused to do my work, my teachers and principals never gave up on me. They stood by me with patience and love, no matter how hard I made it.
Somehow, I managed to graduate high school and seminary, and eventually I got married. But even then, my teachers kept in touch.
When my elementary school principal heard that we had bought our first home, she sent us this mezuzah holder as a gift.
Every time I see it, I remember that the Shomer Yisrael has many messengers He sends to watch over us. True, it might have just one letter on the cover — but to me, that one os says so much. When I kiss the mezuzah, I’m really thanking Hashem for all the kindness, and all the special people He placed in my life.”
That one act of kindness. That one teacher who refused to let go.
That one os on a mezuzah case… it became a lifetime of emunah.
A home. A future.
That’s what belief can do, writes Rabbi Muller in Pirkei Avos: Generation to Generation.
This generation is a generation of depth, of awareness, of quiet strength.
They may not fit the mold we remember.
They may not show it the same way we did.
They are not the problem.
They are the answer.
They are the future of Klal Yisrael.
And if we want that future to be bright, we must invest in them — not only with structure and rules, but with confidence, hope, and heart.
If we’re truly successful, we might start to notice the quiet beauty in this generation — in their Torah, in their mitzvos, in the sincerity behind it all.
And who knows? This Torah and chesed will help the next generation to grow up with a little less gashmiyus, a little more depth, and a lot more heart.
Tell them they are great.
Daven to Hashem for siyata d’Shmaya.
Because if we truly believe that they are great…
They will become exactly that.
Rabbi Moshe Dov Heber is a rebbe at Yeshiva K’tana of Waterbury and a division head in Camp Romimu. He is a writer and public speaker, focusing on topics related to inspiration and education. Rabbi Heber can be reached via email: mdheber@ykwaterbury.org