In the beginning, when our son was small, we didn’t buy him hand-held Nintendo games, or the TV game consoles, either. But well-meaning family members decided to correct what they thought was a moral wrong that we were committing, and bestowed these gifts upon him. We entered the world of small rectangular screens and what, to me, was the greatest time- and mind-wasting tool ever created. Soon, laptops and smart phones entered into our lives. Yours too, I see! No matter how you feel about games and technology, or even the computer at which you are sitting at this moment, hands-on, personal experience in our society has declined, and interpersonal communication has deteriorated precipitously. It is easy to look at younger folk and bemoan the amount of time they spend with electronics, and tell them that they need to reprioritize—just before we sit down with our laptops … and then another rectangular screen to while away the hours before bed.
Distraction is, for many, a main operating mode, and I wonder if such diversion is causing grave damage. No, I don’t wonder that. I think it’s true. With internet and TV news and programs available at every moment, we face reports of savage killings, sports, the latest on idyllic islands for ex-pat retirees, fashionista hi-jinx and adorable dog videos. And it comes on like an onslaught of broken eggs tumbled into a bowl—all but indistinct and soon to be scrambled in our brains by our lack of close attention to any one of them.
It shapes our perceptions and priorities and deeply affects our souls. It shapes our perceptions because we see what we want to see, and we ignore what we choose to ignore. We can be challenged, or choose to have our own thoughts and feelings reinforced with a mouse click or a channel flip. It shapes our priorities because we are exposed to exactly what marketers want us to see as they form us into perfect consumers who believe that what we see on TV—from family lives to breakfast foods to the diet du jour—are somehow more meaningful or valuable than what we have in our own lives. And it effects our souls because it is addictive—and numbing. We can easily follow along like the children of Hamlin, drawn away from hearth and home. But will we find peace when we look back on lost days and years that we did not fully experience, fully feel, or pause to reflect on who we are, and where we are going? Years in which we were not mindful of our blessings, our relationships, our choices and their consequences, or fully appreciating that we, created in the image of God, need to take better care of our souls.
There is nothing wrong with staying in touch with friends, learning, or relaxing, per se. But we face a few realities: Being busy or active is not the same thing as living fully. Our hours in this life pass all too swiftly. This season of reflection is a good time to ask ourselves: What and who we are willing to empower to shape the contours of our souls and the path of our lives? Do we believe that time spent in thinking, conversing, growing, learning and simply being are luxuries… or priorities? What it would be like to give ourselves the blessings of time, peace and reflection to help us grow, strengthen our love and families, and bringing justice and healing into the world? And very importantly – how do we wrest our lives from the rabbit hole? As I tell our son, now grown: There is no such thing as spare time. There is only time.
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The fifth of the Ten Commandments states: Honor your father and your mother, that your days may be long in the land that the Lord your God is giving you (Exodus 20:12).
My brother and I decided to spend Mother’s Day with our late parents.
No, we did not visit the cemetery. Instead, we sat on the living room floor, sifting through boxes of memorabilia. Without my brother’s guidance, I would have avoided the memorabilia forever. My parents are present in my thoughts, dreams, and feelings; that bittersweet ethereal presence is enough for me. My brother, however, feels that each photo and letter carries their imprint. To honor them, we must witness each one.
As we witnessed this Mother’s Day, we did discover for ourselves a longer life. Letters written to and from our parents connected us across the generations, and with significant events in Jewish history.
During World War II, we learned, our uncle wrote frequently to his younger sister, our future mother. Uncle H, drafted into the U.S. army, found himself stationed in Africa. To his 18-year old sister, he spoke frankly: I’ve been seeing quite a bit of North Africa…don’t let anybody tell you different, it’s war torn.
In March 1943, he wrote: I saw that article about Hitler’s supposed death. It is strictly a matter of speculation as to whether he is alive or not. If he did die I hope it was in the same manner some of our people were forced to end their existences.
Uncle H hated Hitler, but had compassion for ordinary German soldiers, required to serve a terrible cause. He wrote: I’ve spoken to many Italian and German prisoners already. The are a nice lot generally speaking but apparently misguided. They are as one fellow remarked “typically GI.” You know, that’s the army expression for soldiers. It is just the fact that they’re fighting under another flag and for a cause of hatred and injustice. I thoroughly despise what any German soldier represents.
Uncle H applied those same democratic principles when he gave his sister dating advice: I was surprised to learn that you have discarded your democratic views in regard to Service men. The only difference between officers and enlisted men is rank. Under the skin they are all the same. Personally I have had very little if any respect at all for girls who would only go out with officers. It is against my principles and very anti-democratic.
No surprises here: I know the U.S. army had knowledge of the horrible crimes against European Jewry. I know that Uncle H was opinionated; that he was close with his sister; and that she was a tough-minded future policewoman. But, coming through the letters, this all seems like precious new information.
Uncle H, as I knew him, was funny and sardonic, a commentator on the human condition. And here he suddenly was, dropped into World War II, reporting just as I might expect. And here was my mom, a future student of political science, receiving his reports; pondering world events; bemusedly accepting his dating advice, though all potential dates were serving overseas.
I know Mom and Uncle H; I know how they thought and felt. As I imagine them in this historical situation, I see it through their eyes. My own life becomes longer. It extends backward into events taking place before I was born. I participate in them, borrowing sensibilities already familiar to me.
In the self-reflective journey of counting of the Omer, we pause this week on the quality of Netzach, eternity. The word netzach is used eight times in the Tanakh. In some places it refers to God, the unchanging one; in others, it describes a human experience of enduring long suffering. Netzach expresses a divine quality, a sense of time as it might exist beyond the boundaries of human perception. Netzach also expresses a human quality, the subjective experience of enduring for a really long time.
My uncle’s letters bring me into netzach. Not the divine kind, eternity beyond the boundaries of human perception, but the human kind, a sense that something endures longer than one might expect. Today, my life seems to extend beyond its boundaries. Events I once thought mythical become a living part of my experience. For me, that’s a very human taste of eternity.
That’s how I feel about being Jewish in general. The sense that I am part of a community whose narrative extends 3,000 years into the past offers me a sense of eternity. This kind of eternity seems attainable. After all, it is only 30 Uncle H’s ago. But it also seems divinely soul-expanding. To reach it, I imaginatively join with with other minds, experiences, and stories. When I honor my ancestors in this way, my own life becomes longer.
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But while money is always money (the same 20 dollars can used to buy food, movies, or in my case, a new book), time is a little more nuanced.
In fact, the Greeks had two different words for time: chronos and kairos. Chronos was the quantitative sense of time. It could be measured and dissected, and most importantly, was undifferentiated.
Kairos, in contrast, was the qualitative sense of time. It was psychological, how we felt time, and it reminded us that not every moment was exactly the same — some moments were more powerful, more important and more holy than others.
To phrase it another way, if chronos is the date of your wedding, kairos is your wedding day.
So time is paradoxical. Sometimes we look at it through our daily or weekly schedules, placing all our obligations and opportunities into our calendar. When we look at time in this way, it is something we use, and has value only to the extent that it can help us achieve other goals. But sometimes we look at time through the lens of what is most special and important in our lives. When we look at it in this way, it is something we experience, and has value in and of itself.
Our view of money, however, doesn’t have this challenge. Money doesn’t have value in and of itself — its power comes in what it allows us to do. The question then is, are we using our money to help us do what we truly want to be doing?
In the new book Happy Money: The Science of Smarter Spending, Elizabeth Dunn and Michael Norton outline the different ways we can use money to increase our well-being. While money doesn’t buy happiness (at least not directly), if we use our money correctly, we can find opportunities for more joy and satisfaction in life. And one of the primary ways we can do that is to use money to buy time — but it has to be a specific type of time.
We all are busy with our lives, and we often think that buying a new time-saving gadget will make our lives better because it will “save us time.” Instead, these new gadgets often force us to do more work in the same amount of time. But that’s because when we are looking to “be more efficient,” we are looking for more chronos time.
What Dunn and Norton argue is that we should use our money to find ways to experience kairos time. So, for example, how can we make sure that we have a date night with our spouse? How can we strive to volunteer with organizations that give our lives meaning? As Dunn and Norton explain:
Transforming decisions about money into decisions about time has a surprising benefit. Thinking about time — rather than money — spurs people to engage in activities that promote well-being, like socializing and volunteering. In a 2010 study, more than three hundred adults completed a simple task designed to activate the concept of either time or money. One group unscrambled sentences related to time, such as “sheets the change clock” (possible answers: “change the sheets” or “change the clock”). Another group unscrambled sentences related to money (“sheets the change price”). Afterwards, everyone decided how to spend the next twenty-four hours. Individuals who unscrambled sentences related to time were more inclined to socialize and engage in “intimate relations” and were less inclined to work. Those who unscrambled sentences related to money showed just the opposite pattern, reporting enhanced intentions to work and diminished intentions to socialize or have intimate relations.
Why? Time and money promote different mind-sets. We view our choices about how to spend time as being deeply connected to our sense of self. In contrast, choices about money often lead us to think in a relatively cold, rational manner. Focusing on time frees people to prioritize happiness and social relationships. Even a simple sentence-unscrambling task is enough to induce these different frames of mind. (Dunn and Norton, 74-75)
In Judaism, the paradigmatic kairos time is Shabbat. During the six days of the work week, we are supposed to be productive, to be working hard in order to support ourselves and our family. But on Shabbat, we are told to take a break. To rest. To be with friends. To be with family. To go for a nice, long walk. To read and to learn. To pray. To be reminded that time can be special.
Indeed, while every dollar we earn is the same, not every moment in life is the same. And while we can always potentially gain more money, we never gain more time. While you can always potentially get a refund on your money, once your time is spent, it’s gone.
So let’s make sure we’re spending it wisely.