Children are the promise of a future. This is the way many view the young: they are worthy of our time and attention insofar as they will be the next generation. In the words of King Ahaz of Judah1 : “If there are no kid-goats, there will be no he-goats. If there are no he-goats, there will be no flock.”

This perspective is vividly illustrated in a Midrashic account2 that provides the backstory to the giving of the Torah. When the Jewish people stood at Mount Sinai, before revealing the Torah, G‑d asked them to provide a guarantor to ensure it would be faithfully kept into the future. They replied, “Our ancestors will be our guarantors.” When this proposition was rejected, they offered, “Our prophets will be our guarantors.” This offer was also refused by G‑d. Only when they said, “Our children will be our guarantors” did G‑d reply, “Indeed, these are good guarantors. For their sake I will give it to you.”

As true and functional as the above perspectives are, Judaism’s perspective on youth goes beyond merely seeing children as a means to an end; it is founded on a profound appreciation for the unique spiritual energy and capacity of youth itself.

In 2017, the Oxford Dictionary selected the word Youthquake, defined as “a significant cultural, political, or social change arising from the actions or influence of young people,” as the word of the year. This socio-linguistic phenomenon is reflective of the psycho-spiritual fact that there is a fire inside young people that adults often negatively characterize as a rebellious spirit.

Yet, at its core, it is not merely an immature sense of angst that drives youth, but tremendous energy and a refusal to settle for less when more can be achieved. In the words of the Lubavitcher Rebbe3 : “The rebelliousness of young people is not a crime. On the contrary, it is the fire of the soul that refuses to conform, that is dissatisfied with the status quo, that cries out that it wants to change the world and is frustrated with not knowing how.”

Such fiery passion and disruption is a constituent element of young people’s experience and awareness, as evidenced in the Hebrew word for youth, naar. For instance, in the mystical Shabbat hymn Lecha Dodi, we find the passage, hitnaari mei’afar kumi, meaning, shake off the dust, arise. The word hitnaari (shake off) is formed from the same root-letters as naar, reflecting the revolutionary energy of youth that allows them to shake off the dust of contentment in order to see life anew.

As we grow, we become accustomed to life’s ways, and complacency sets in. We start questioning our ability to change the world. Youth are free of this baggage; their seeming naivete works to their advantage. Children can therefore bring about what adults see as improbable, even impossible.

Furthermore, beyond their innate ability to throw off the shackles of social conformity in their quest for truth, children have a special spiritual sensitivity as well. This, too, is reflected in the word naar, which is etymologically connected to the word uri, meaning to wake up.

In Jewish tradition, children are seen as symbolically representing and naturally embodying this state of spiritual awakeness that adults must consciously cultivate and seek to regain.

Such an inborn spiritual sensitivity in children is referenced numerous times by the Sages, such as in the assertion4 that it was the children who first recognized G‑d’s presence at the Splitting of the Sea, even before Moses, Aaron, and the elders!

A further illustration of the elevated spiritual level of children is found in the Talmud5 : Reish Lakish said in the name of R. Yehudah the Nasi: “The world endures only for the sake of the breath of schoolchildren [emitted during Torah study].” R. Papa asked Abaye: “What about mine and yours?” Abaye replied: Breath in which there is sin is not like breath in which there is no sin.” According to the Talmud, not even the greatest Sages of our tradition are seen to be on the spiritual level of a simple child!

This idea is further expressed in the teaching that6 “From the day the Temple was destroyed, prophecy was taken from the prophets and given to...children.” King David, too, says as much when he declares that7 : Out of the mouth of the babes and sucklings You have established strength, in order to put an end to all enemies and adversaries.

The reason children are more spiritually awake is that they are more pure and sensitive to the presence of the Divine within all. They are not yet corrupted by the wiles of egoic self-consciousness or held prisoner by the hubris that often accompanies increased knowledge and experience, and, therefore, they can receive and transmit the word of G‑d more faithfully.

A fascinating Midrash8 on the Purim story relates an episode in which Mordechai, after learning of Haman’s decree to annihilate the Jews, asked three young school children what they were learning. The first boy promptly recited the verse he had learned at school that day: "Do not fear sudden terror, nor the destruction of the wicked when it comes."9 The second boy said, "Contrive a scheme, but it will be foiled; conspire a plot, but it will not materialize, for G‑d is with us."10 And the third boy said,11 "To your old age I am [with you]. I have made you, and I will carry you; I will sustain you and deliver you."12

When Mordechai heard these responses, he smiled with a happy heart. Haman asked him: “What makes you so happy about what these children said?” Mordechai replied: “I am happy because of the glad tidings they told me—that I should not be afraid of the evil plot that you contrived against us.”

We see here an example of an exalted Sage relating to the words of children as a form of prophecy. As R. Yehudah said in the name of Rav: “What is meant by the verse, Do not touch my anointed ones? My anointed ones refers to tinokot shel beit rabban—school children.”

In our liturgy we ask G‑d: Chadeish yameinu k’kedem, renew our days as of old.

How, then, might we maintain youthful optimism and idealism even as we grow older and become accustomed to, even disillusioned by, life’s ways?

The Biblical term for aging gives us insight into the secret to staying young. When the Torah describes Abraham and Sarah’s elder years, it uses the term ba’im bayamim, which literally translates as "entering their days," teaching us not only how long they lived (quantitatively) but how deeply they lived (qualitatively). They entered each day fully with curiosity and openness, never thinking they had it all figured out or holding onto expectations of how things were supposed to be.

Similarly, we find that in the Torah,13 Joshua was still referred to as a naar even when he was fifty-six years old.14 The Midrash15 explains that this was because he possessed a youthful and energetic drive even at that age.

It is human nature that the older a person becomes, the less he tends to be affected by events around him, either because he has become more mature and settled or because he has already lived so many years that he is not so easily fazed by events—life holds fewer and fewer surprises.

When we “enter our days” with a fresh pair of eyes, we are spiritually awake and attuned to discover the unique expression of Divine unity in every moment.

In meditation practice, this is called “beginner’s mind,” and it is seen as an ideal state to cultivate; to see things simply as they are instead of as we are, to be open to whatever arises, and to believe in the possibilities of change and growth while remaining a perpetual student of life’s mysteries. Children effortlessly embody this awareness. Since they are less experienced in life, everything appears to them as new and miraculous.

It is this same understanding of the spiritual advantages of youth that led some of the great masters of Jewish spirituality and meditation to offer the following humble and breathtaking prayer to G‑d before they began their prayers:16 “Ani mitpallel l’daat zeh hatinok,” asking G‑d to grant them the ability to address Him with the innocence of a child.

In Jewish tradition, the most spiritually mature viewpoint, as expressed by these mystics, is that intellectual sophistication can be an obstacle to fully receiving or encountering the Divine Presence. Philosophical arguments, mental gymnastics, and lofty meditations, no matter how subtle and breathtaking, can get in the way of our direct connection with G‑d.

Such intellectual pursuits can be likened to standing on the shore waxing poetic about the sea rather than diving in and immersing oneself in the water. In order to re-enter a childlike state, we must simply open ourselves up to the Divine all around and within us instead of spending all our time thinking about encountering it. Children exemplify this ability to faithfully leap into life, and, therefore, from the spiritual point of view, the innocence of a child is not something to grow out of but something to grow into.

The Big Idea

Physically speaking, children are potential adults; spiritually speaking, adults are potential children.

It Happened Once

Once, during the Ne’ilah prayer at the end of Yom Kippur, the Baal Shem Tov cried more than usual. His closest disciples understood that he must have sensed a negative heavenly decree looming, and they responded by intensifying their own prayers and supplications. When the rest of the congregation witnessed this, their hearts moved them to join in the impassioned pleas.

There was a young boy from the neighboring village who had come to the synagogue for the Days of Awe. He was completely uneducated in Jewish practice.

As a village dweller, the boy knew the sounds of all the different farm animals, and he especially loved the rooster’s crowing. When he heard the weeping from the rest of the congregation, his heart was also shattered, and he cried out loudly, with pure exuberance and youthful sincerity, “Cock-a-doodle-do! G‑d, have mercy!”

The worshippers in the synagogue were disturbed to hear a child crowing like a rooster, and a few of them even scolded the boy. They would have thrown him out if he had not protested, “I am a Jew and I also belong here.”

The confused cacophony was pierced by the prayerful voice of the Baal Shem Tov, whose face shone brightly as he concluded Ne’ilah with a special melody.

After Yom Kippur ended, the Baal Shem Tov related to his disciples that there had, in fact, been an accusation leveled in heaven against the boy’s village for their lack of connection to Jewish life and spiritual practice. Try as he might, despite using all of the mystical powers at his disposal, the Baal Shem Tov was unable to avert the decree.

Until, suddenly, the sound of the village boy’s fervent call rose to Heaven, and its heartfelt sincerity brought great pleasure Above, nullifying the decree at once.17