Saturday, May 05, 2005

My Synagogue and My Computer: A Comparison

By Rabbi Mark S. Glickman

Special to The Seattle Times

We in the world of religion are losing the battle with technology. At least that’s what expert observers of the American cultural and religious scene have been saying recently.  When given the choice of going to religious services or staying home to watch TV and surf the ‘Net, these experts note, the overwhelming majority of Americans choose to stay home.
 
It’s a lamentable but understandable reality, and we who are immersed in our religious traditions need to face up to it. I, for example, am a huge fan of synagogue-attendance, but I really like spending time on my computer, too.  Both my synagogue and my computer beckon for my attention constantly, and as I reflect upon them, I realize that each has its strengths in comparison to the other, and each its deficits, as well.
 
My computer, for example, has a nifty little function called “undo.” In dealing with a mistake, when I “do” it, I can “undo” it at the touch of a button –click! – and it’s as if my mistake never happened. And when I make big mistakes, I can use another neat little function called “delete,” and the mistakes simply disappear.  My computer has a good memory, and a good forgettory, too.
 
At my synagogue, however, cleaning up my messes is usually much more difficult.  There and elsewhere in the non-electronic world, dealing with misdeeds involves what we call teshuvah – repentance, or return. In Judaism, teshuvah demands that we own up to our wrongdoings, change our ways, apologize, compensate our victims, and maintain our changes over the long-haul.  It’s a difficult, gut-wrenching process – far harder than just clicking “undo” – and, afterwards we find ourselves stronger and better people for having gone through it.  
 
Now as to that “delete” function, I’ll admit that my congregation doesn’t forget nearly as well as my computer.  In fact, when I try to delete things from my congregants’ memories, I tend to get error messages. But the people at my synagogue tend to like me despite those unpleasant wish-I could-delete-‘em memories, and they have the courtesy not to mention those past-mistakes very often at all.
 
No, at my synagogue, there is no “undo” option, nor can I simply erase bad memories. But with teshuvah, we effectively have a “fix-and-improve” option – a much tougher function to perform but, in the long run, a much better one, too. And with the affection we feel for each other, our community can work even without a delete key.
 
Sometimes, when my computer brings me to a chat room, I encounter people I don’t like.  No worries.  My computer lets me just click them away into electronic oblivion.  It’s quite refreshing, actually – if you haven’t done it, you should try it sometime.
 
At my synagogue, I’ve also encountered difficult some people. But there, to my great frustration, I’ve found that I can’t just click them away.  Even when I try, the difficult people at my synagogue have a way of sticking around for a very long time.  The good news, however, is that they can’t click me away, either – not even when they want to, and not even when I deserve it.  Instead, we all must reconcile ourselves to the reality of one another as human beings, and make a go of it as a community.  And – yes, I suppose I’ll have to admit it – my encounters with the difficult people, though difficult, have often strengthened my character and enriched my soul far more deeply than my encounters with the easy ones.
 
When my computer crashes, it’s catastrophic – sometimes irretrievably so.  When the crash happens, I tend to scream words that I don’t want my children to hear. Very loudly.
 
But those of us who go to my synagogue are part of a part of a people that, over the centuries, has often faced real tragedy – the kind of tragedy that puts computer-crashes and other inconveniences into a more proper perspective as mere hassles.  When horrors occur, we Jews mourn our losses, try to learn what we can from them, and go on performing the sacred and mundane tasks of our lives.  We have learned that, when the world crashes around us, this is our best and only response.
 
I really do like my computer – it can do some really neat and impressive things.  But in the future, when given the choice, I think I’ll go and boot-up the old synagogue, instead.   It may not have much bandwidth, but in the long-run, it brings me to places far grander and allows me to do things far more glorious than my computer ever could.