archives

"I used to think God was this big guy with a hairy beard," Annie Levitt, 12, says, laughing. She reaches over to grab a chicken wing from a serving platter. There's supposed to be enough food for 400 kids at tonight's Reform Judaism Sabbath youth service and dinner at Camp Swig in Saratoga, Calif., but you can never be too sure.

"I changed my mind about God after our rabbi came in to talk to us at Sunday school," the 12-year-old continues. "Someone asked her if God was a girl or a boy. She said, 'Well, it can be whatever you think it is.' So that's when I found out that God is ----."

"God is understanding," interrupts Aaron Fein. Aaron, 13, just became a bar mitzvah, so he speaks with a certain authority. "I like that," Jo Packham, 13, a bat mitzvah, says. "But I think God is nature. I have a lot of respect for Native Americans, because in their religions they protected nature."

Annie and her friends say they go to Hebrew school or Sunday school regularly, attend Friday night services about once a month and sometimes even forsake Saturday morning cartoons for temple. Some are studying for or have become bar or bat mitzvahs, and that ritual transition from child to adult has prompted a reassessment of where they stand on God, religion and faith.

"You start feeling this responsibility like you have to teach it to your children," Aaron Fraser, 12, says. "And to have children so you can teach it to them. Because so many generations of your family have done this and known this and ----."

"But it can be like pressure," Aaron Fein agrees. "Like I didn't feel like studying for my bar mitzvah this year, but my family wanted me to, so I did."

Jo has been listening to the boys intently. "It's like we're part of something we believe in that makes sense," she says.

But, the kids report, faith isn't always easy in these apostate times. There are parents who drop their children off at temple and go home. "A lot of kids," Aaron Fraser says darkly, "are more religious than their parents."

And there are the larger theological questions to contend with, the ones that have foiled generations of 12-year-olds. "Like, " Annie says, "sometimes you think, if there's a God, why would there be wars?"

"Well," Aaron Fein says slowly, "I think God tries to help, but we make our own decisions."

Annie looks momentarily appeased, but now it's Jo's turn to express misgivings. "Some of the things that are talked about in religion," she says, "like miracles, like the sea splitting? Like sure, I'm supposed to believe that?

"But my rabbi said that even if they might not have happened, those things aren't lies but stories. And they might have happened. So we live as if they did happen and we do these things because... and we pray...." Her words trail off. "Well," she continues, a little sheepish, "I don't know why."

Jonathan Khersonsky, 12, pipes up. "I'll tell you what I pray for: one time I prayed to God for a bike. I'm like, 'Baruch atah adonai bike!' And I got it! I actually did get it!"

Everyone laughs, and he wanders off to see what's holding up dessert.

"I don't know," Annie says, staring after him. "To me, that's kind of like thinking God is a guy with a big, hairy beard."

© Peggy Orenstein. All rights reserved.