Feiler's Files
A Luddite’s Lament
On occasion, I’ve been accused by friends of being a “Luddite.” What’s a Luddite? By definition, a Luddite is someone who is opposed to technological changes, a term dating back to early 19th-century England when textile artisans protested the Industrial Revolution. (The leader of these upstarts was reportedly someone who went by the sobriquet “King Ludd.”)
Of course, if I was indeed a Luddite, you wouldn’t be reading this since I wouldn’t be using a computer and writing a blog. Nor would I have a cell phone, TV, washing machine, electric shaver or telephone answering machine.
I’d actually make a lousy Luddite. My old Royal typewriter no longer works and is only for decoration, and there are no clotheslines flapping in the breeze in my backyard.
Technology often improves our lives greatly when used well, and one of the places I’ve seen that take place is in the synagogue. For instance, where I go to shul, there’s a TV monitor that greets visitors, informing us of the day’s scheduled activities (Torah study gatherings, service times, committee meetings, etc.). We also receive frequent helpful email blasts from synagogue and religious school staffers.
But on holidays and Shabbat—times when I believe all of the denominations agree that we need to escape the hustle and bustle of modern life (translation: all of those pesky cell phones, computers, voice-mails and TVs)—that Luddite component of my personality tends to surface.
During Rosh Hashanah this year, I occasionally noticed clusters of teenagers hanging in the synagogue hallways. I have no problem with it – been there, done that. I’ve heard some people call it “Hormone Alley.” Fine. At least they’re in shul.
But when I see some of these young people standing around and using their cell phones to call and text their pals, I know something’s broken here. And it’s not necessarily their fault. Who’s to blame? Perhaps their parents, rabbis and teachers who are simply not making it clear that using modern apparatus in shul on one of the holiest days of the year is just plain wrongheaded.
After all, they’re already with their friends, enjoying themselves and chatting up Katie Perry’s new CD or whatever. No one’s shoving their butts into services. Can’t they drop the cell phones and texting for just a day, or at least until they get home? Is national security really threatened if they leave their cell phones at home?
My wife reminded me of one time when we attended a friend’s adult bat mitzvah ceremony a few years ago. It was a very moving event, but one of the worshippers was talking on his cell phone during most of the service. Even when the times came in the service to stand up and recite the Amidah and other prayers, he simply stood up, with the phone seemingly congealed to his ear, and kept chatting away. Finally, at some point, a few congregants shushed him enough that he walked out of the sanctuary, to finish his phone conversation (which I’m willing to bet was pretty unnecessary and inane) in the hallway.
It all comes down to that one precious resource so woefully lacking in our world—sechel (common sense). But if you want to call me a Luddite, so be it.
Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address) on 09/25/09 at 08:49 AM | Comments (0)