We often speak of “generational shifts” in polite, abstract terms. We pray for “the old ways” to fade, for “outdated ideas” to pass, for the “older generation” to make room for the new. There is a certain clean, clinical distance in this language. It allows us to hope for societal progress without confronting the intimate, human cost of that progress. But we must pause and consider a challenging truth: to pray for the passing of an older generation is, in essence, to pray for the passing of someone’s parents and grandparents. The abstract collective is made flesh in the people who loved us, taught us, and held our hands.
When we speak of “the older generation,” we construct a monolith. We bundle together every individual over a certain age, attributing to them a uniform set of beliefs and obstacles. This mental shorthand erases their individuality, their unique journeys, their personal loves and regrets. That “out-of-touch” figurehead in a news clip is not just a symbol; he is a father who tells bad jokes at Thanksgiving. That “stubborn” voter is a grandmother who still sends birthday cards with two-dollar bills. To wish for their passing is to wish for a world emptied of specific smiles, specific stories, specific hands that have shaped the very world we now wish to change.
Our desire for progress is not wrong. Societies must evolve, and new ideas must challenge the old. We rightly long for justice, for equality, for a more compassionate and enlightened world. Yet, in our zeal for the future, we risk dehumanizing the past and the people who are its living repositories. We forget that the foundations we stand upon—even the flawed ones we seek to repair—were laid by these same hands. The freedoms we enjoy, the comforts we take for granted, often came from their sacrifices and labors, however imperfect their understanding may seem through our modern lens.
There is a profound difference between praying for the transformation of hearts and minds and praying for the removal of people. One engages with humanity’s capacity for growth; the other succumbs to a cold impatience. History is not changed merely by the subtraction of people, but by the hard, gracious work of persuasion, love, and example. Lasting change is woven through relationship, not merely achieved through replacement. To write off an entire generation is to forsake the complex, messy, and holy work of human connection across time.
So, let us be careful with our words and our prayers. Let us pray instead for understanding that flows in both directions. Let us pray for the patience to listen to stories we think we already know, and for the courage to share our hearts in return. Let us pray for a future built not upon the graves of the old, but upon the transformed ground of shared wisdom and mutual respect. For in the end, the older generation we speak of so abstractly is the very lineage from which we sprang. To dismiss them is, in a way, to dismiss a part of ourselves. A better world must be one we build together, for as long as we are given, honoring the past even as we reach for the future.
