The world isn’t falling apart. It’s growing up.

And if you’re Jewish, you’re living a miracle. You weren’t supposed to make it this far.

photo: Cole Keister/Unsplash

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This is a guest essay written by Sam Mitzmann, who writes the newsletter, “Still Jewish.”

You can also listen to the podcast version of this essay on Apple Podcasts, YouTube Music, YouTube, and Spotify.

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The world feels off.

The headlines. The shouting. The contradictions. The scroll that never ends.
We’re talking more — but connecting less. Wiser on paper. Lonelier in practice.

It feels like everything is falling apart.

But what if it’s not?

What if what we’re living through isn’t collapse, but a contraction? The strain of something being born? What if history isn’t just a string of events, but the soul of humanity, growing up?

Humanity matures in stages.

Every person develops in phases: childhood, adolescence, early adulthood and, with effort, maturity. So does humanity.

Growth begins slowly. The early stages take time, laying the foundation. But as we near maturity, things move faster — and demand more from us. Each stage brings wisdom — and wounds. Brilliance and breakdowns. And just like personal growth, each phase prepares us for what’s next.

This isn’t freefall. It’s formation.

Let’s trace the arc.

For most of history, the world lived in inherited structure. Empires ruled. Kings commanded. Priests interpreted truth. Identity was handed down, not discovered. Monotheism offered a unifying vision. Law offered stability. Authority kept order. It wasn’t always kind. But it gave us something we needed: Belonging. Continuity. A framework to live within.

We learned how to build. How to believe. How to belong. But we hadn’t yet learned to ask: Why? And, eventually, that question began to surface.

The quiet cracks of doubt grew louder. In the 1500s, the Reformation gave people access to sacred texts — and permission to question power. In the 1600s, the Scientific Revolution said: “Don’t just trust tradition. Observe for yourself.” The Enlightenment of the 1700s exalted reason and individual rights. And the American and French Revolutions rewrote the rules, demanding not just safety, but freedom.

Humanity hit adolescence.

We didn’t just evolve. We pushed. We challenged. We rebelled. We asked: “Why these rules? Who decides? What if I start over?” This wasn’t destruction for destruction’s sake. It was the start of responsibility, claimed too soon, without a guide, like a teenager handed the keys to a car — exciting, powerful, and potentially catastrophic.

The Jewish Thread: Two Forces, One Mission

While the world entered its stormy adolescence, the Jewish People had already been living in tension for centuries. Formed through compassion. Shaped by discipline. Guided by clarity. We were chosen to carry both memory and mission.

Our role was never just to survive; it was to hold a paradox: to go inward and do the work of alignment, to go outward and bring conscience into chaos, to stay rooted — and still reach.

That tension has always lived within us. Some of us build from the inside. Others reach toward the world. Two forces. One purpose. But when we forget the purpose — when we stop honoring each other’s role, or worse, abandon the blueprint entirely — we don’t just weaken ourselves. We weaken the balance the world depends on to grow.

Because we were never meant to be the same. We were meant to work in sync. And when we don’t — when we fight each other or walk away from the path — the world feels it.

And like any bearer of conscience, we’ve often been met with backlash, not because we were wrong, but because we were early. Because when a world stuck in adolescence encounters a people who won’t stop insisting on moral truth, it doesn’t always say thank you.

By the 1800s, we weren’t just tearing things down; we were starting to build. Like young adults stepping into independence, we wanted to leave our mark. We had energy. We had ideas. And we had tools. The Industrial Revolution gave us speed and scale. Technology exploded. Villages emptied. Cities rose. We moved faster than we bonded. We gained power, but not always purpose.

As young adulthood deepened, so did the desire not just to build something big, but something better. We weren’t just driven by profit or progress; we were searching for meaning. That’s when the ideologies emerged.

“What if we could change the world?”

• Communism promised fairness, but crushed the individual.

• Fascism gave identity, but erased conscience.

• Capitalism unleashed creativity, but drifted into endless consumption.

Each began with a genuine longing: to fix what was broken, to give people dignity, to create a just world. But each one ignored something essential: human nature.

We had matured enough to build, but not enough to ask whether what we were building was truly wise, sustainable, or good. It was like handing a recent college graduate the reins to a global company — with ambition in their heart, tools in their hands, and no guidance for what truly matters.

And when these visions collided with the rising power of machines, mass media, and military technology, the results were catastrophic.

Then came the crash. World War I shattered illusions. World War II shattered innocence. The Holocaust. Hiroshima. These weren’t just geopolitical events. They were moral mirrors, revealing what happens when human ambition collides with unchecked power, when ideas outrun conscience.

The ideologies that began with dreams had now been tested at scale. Fueled by machines, amplified by media, enforced by armies, they became tools of devastation.

We saw it clearly: Systems meant to save the world had become engines of its destruction. The world had reached its tipping point. Dreams met consequences. Power met limits. And something deep inside us whispered: “Never again.” But memory fades when meaning isn’t practiced.

After the world wars, we tried to heal. We built institutions: the United Nations, human rights charters, NGOs, peacekeeping missions. It felt noble. And it was. But something was still missing. You can’t fix moral trauma with spreadsheets. You can’t impose your system and expect peace. Most charity fails when it treats problems instead of seeing people as partners. We expanded systems faster than we expanded wisdom. We wanted peace, but forgot that peace needs purpose and roots to last.

Now: The Crisis of Adulthood

We are not adolescents anymore. We’ve tasted freedom. Inherited tools. Seen what doesn’t work. We are past the age of excuses. But still, we avoid.

We scroll instead of study. Escape instead of engage. We’re drowning in choice. Addicted to comfort. Afraid of commitment. We say we want meaning, but often reject the structure that sustains it. We say we want peace, but hesitate to sacrifice for it.

We’re not lost. We’ve just gotten comfortable. The time for drifting is over. And we’re not rebelling anymore. We’re responsible now.

There’s a moment in everyone’s life when freedom stops feeling like a toy — and starts feeling like a task. Like when someone becomes a parent. You realize it’s not about you anymore. And that’s not a loss; it’s a transformation.

That’s where we are. We’re not here to fight the past. We’re here to create something better. Not perfect. But aligned. Grounded. Real. This is what adulthood asks of us:
to stop reacting, and start building.

Adulthood means accountability. Not just for what you feel, but for what you build. Being spiritual isn’t enough. Being informed isn’t enough. Being nice isn’t enough.

We need moral clarity, integrity, and kindness. The courage to align with what matters, even when it’s hard. We don’t need to reinvent morality. We need to return to it. The blueprints are there, etched in history, conscience, and tested wisdom. It’s time to return. We need to learn from history instead of repeating it. We already have everything needed for redemption.

AI can translate every language. We can grow food in deserts. We can connect billions in seconds. We have everything — except alignment. More tools, less meaning. More power, less purpose. We need to align our choices with truth, to refine our egos, to become the adults we came here to be. Like nutrition rules for the soul, or like a workout program for the conscience.

We don’t just need new inventions. We need new intentions.

We are living in a one-percent moment.

We are living in the most connected, comfortable, and resourced moment in all of human history: better housed, longer-lived, freer to choose your path than almost anyone who came before you. We are not just surviving. We are surrounded by the possibility to shape, create, and contribute like never before.

This isn’t an accident. It’s a calling.

And if you’re Jewish, you’re living a miracle. You weren’t supposed to make it this far. Empires tried to erase you. Movements tried to replace you. Assimilation tried to dissolve you. Still, you’re here.

But this moment isn’t just comfortable. It’s grown-up. You live in an adult world. With adult tools. Empires used to fall by armies. Now, they fall by group chats. Your great-grandparents lived in fear. You live in freedom—with reach, with voice, with leverage.

That means you can’t just criticize power. You hold it. And power, in this age, isn’t in titles. It’s in alignment. Enough people aligned — fast enough, clear enough — can change the world in days, not decades. You weren’t just born into this moment. You were born for it.

So, why does everything feel so crazy right now?

Because we’re getting close. Growth isn’t quiet. And truth doesn’t land softly. The closer we get to alignment, the harder resistance fights back.

Some of it comes from within: the pull of comfort, the fog of doubt, the voice that says, “Why bother?” And some of it comes from outside: People, movements, even entire ideologies that can’t survive in a world with moral clarity, so they try to confuse, distract, and divide.

In ancient language, this force had a name. Today, it’s everywhere. Sometimes it’s internal numbness. Sometimes, it’s ideological warfare without uniforms. Either way, it hates the light. It will twist your kindness into weakness. It will weaponize your empathy against you. And it will make you feel crazy for standing up.

So, don’t be fooled. This is what growth looks like when we drag distortion into the light. And if it feels like the world is losing its mind, it’s not. It’s resisting. Because something deeper is being revealed. And it needs you clear, grounded, and fully present.

The world isn’t ending. It’s being handed to you.

History wasn’t random. Every era was a step forward:

• Childhood – order before understanding

• Adolescence – freedom without form

• Early adulthood – power without purpose

• Now – a choice

This is the moment when history asks: “Will you grow up?” Because growing up means facing what’s uncomfortable. Choosing truth when it’s inconvenient. Doing the work. Taking ownership. Becoming who you’re here to be. It means stepping forward when the world would rather you stay asleep.

The world isn’t falling apart. It’s finally growing up. Now, the question is: Will you?

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