The Missing Rite

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How did we get here?

As a college freshman, I found myself lying in the mud, gripping a thick rope alongside my peers, engaged in a tradition that had tested students for generations. A three-hour tug-of-war.

Just 3 weeks earlier, I went to the fall activities fair on campus, eager to get involved as a new college student. I passed by booth after booth until one caught my eye: “The Pull.” For over 120 years, first- and second-year students on campus would face off in a tug-of-war, but this was no ordinary summer camp challenge. It was one of the hardest things a person could endure. I decided to join. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. For three weeks, in the heat of West Michigan in September, participants would train for hours on end every day, culminating in “Pull Day,” where the freshman (coached by the Juniors) and the Sophomores (coached by the seniors) would pull on a rope non-stop for three straight hours until a winner was determined by who took more rope from the opposing team by the end of the time. Did I mention you weren’t standing up, either? Participants were lying on the rope, making it even more challenging to move the rope and even more painful to take it from the other team.

Freshmen rarely win The Pull, and it makes sense. The sophomores are a year older, a year stronger, and a year more experienced. It’s like taking your high school football team to play against the Super Bowl champs. The day was more brutal than I imagined. Every movement from the rope felt like knives cutting into my raw and ripped hands. My lanky body struggled to hold on. The weight of the tree-trunk-sized rope crushed into my ribs. Victory seemed impossible…until it wasn’t. We won.

Overcoming a seemingly impossible challenge marked a pivotal point in my young adult life. Taking on and conquering this was more than an extreme contest; it was a rite of passage—one that instilled resilience and momentum, showing me that what I thought was impossible was merely a challenge waiting to be conquered.

Adulthood had begun.

Like many other 18-year-olds, I was trying to figure out what to do after high school. I decided to enroll at Hope College and was excited to jump into a new season of life, but I was nervous to make my mark. I hadn’t ‘done’ anything to prove I was worthy of taking the next step. I don’t think I was alone in this feeling, either. Many young people today face a world where the transition to adulthood is blurred, marked not by significant milestones but by uncertainty. It’s a problem. This lack of a defining achievement can lead to a drift in purpose, contributing to a growing epidemic of poor mental health, depression, and a profound lack of confidence.

It is no secret that young people are struggling. Recent studies indicate that rates of depression and anxiety have surged, with many experts attributing this to a lack of clear life milestones and a sense of purpose. With no clear rite of passage, young adults miss a crucial opportunity to prove to themselves that they can overcome challenges and achieve greatness.

And it is killing the US from within. Only half of today’s 30-year-olds earn more than their parents did at the same age—a stark decline from 90% for those born in the 1940s​. Rates of obesity have more than doubled since the 1970s, affecting 42% of Americans​, and mental health indicators show that levels of anxiety and depression have steadily increased for each generation (see above). Worst of all, distrust in government institutions has also soared, with fewer than 20% of Gen Z expressing high confidence in these systems. Translation? There is a crisis in this country. How did we get here? Something needs to change. I think rites of passage are the answer.

Historically, cultures around the world recognized the importance of marking the transition from adolescence to adulthood. Rites of passage served as ceremonial milestones between youth and adulthood. The Maasai of East Africa undergo a series of trials to earn their status as warriors, including a lion hunt as a test of bravery. Sounds a bit more meaningful than a TikTok dance.

In Judaism, the Bar and Bat Mitzvah mark the coming of age, where young boys and girls take on religious responsibilities. These traditions, diverse in practice, share a common purpose: to challenge young people, celebrate their achievements, and integrate them into the fabric of adult society. Young people earn their place in the adult community by overcoming formidable challenges. They are endowed with a sense of purpose.

Failure is a real and necessary risk in these moments. The possibility of failure creates urgency and meaning. Without it, the experience wouldn’t hold the same weight. The Pull was daunting, not because success was guaranteed, but because failure was always possible. Every day, I was confronted with the question: Could I handle this? Beyond that, the possibility of going through all this pain just to lose was real (and, in our case, likely). And that, I think, is what young people need more of today. They need the chance to confront the risk of failure, not be shielded from it, because surviving it brings a sense of accomplishment and purpose that’s hard to find anywhere else.

Frankly, I got lucky. I fell into a rite of passage without intending it. It was a total springboard for the rest of my college career. Now, whenever I go into an interview, get ready for a challenging boxing workout, or feel like the world's weight is on my shoulders, I think back to those three weeks in September. Nothing can be more demanding than that, and I overcame it.

In the US, the absence of such rites of passage leaves a void, contributing to the malaise we see among young people. It's time to reimagine and reintegrate these powerful traditions. Rites of passage introduce young people to controlled pain and the possibility of failure. The ethics of this pain—whether physical, emotional, or social—lie in its purpose: it’s meant to challenge, but not to destroy. The pain experienced during these moments, like the trials I faced in college, is transformative because it’s earned. By stepping into discomfort and uncertainty, we forge our identities and learn how to carry the inevitable burdens of adulthood.

How can we get there? We already have the hard stuff figured out. We just need to pivot the lens in which we look at it. The United States federal government already requires young people to register for the draft. This mandate underscores our collective commitment to defending the nation from external threats. Yet, we lack a parallel mechanism to combat the internal parasites of mental health challenges, economic failure, and political distrust that threaten our society from within. Enter rites of passage. Implementing rites of passage could be a more manageable and impactful national program, offering young people a structured path to personal development, resilience, and community integration. Just as we mobilize to protect our nation from external adversaries, we must also safeguard our future by addressing the internal crises affecting our youth. A national rite of passage could act as a vaccine against the metaphorical virus of societal decay, building a healthier, more resilient future for America.

Let adulthood begin.

Grateful for you,

Tommy

P.S. If you learned something new in this edition, can you do me a favor? Forward this essay to a friend who may be interested. I’d really appreciate it.