Choosing Freedom

Barely ninety seconds into the long-scheduled meeting, the first cellphone began to vibrate.

With an “excuse me, it’s an emergency”  mumbled in a voice that was hardly audible, its owner took the call. Three other participants took advantage of the opportunity to check and respond to their  urgent emails on their Smartphones.

A somber group gathered in a funeral chapel to bid farewell to a beloved member of the community. In the midst of a moving hesped, a lively tune emanating from an elegant pocketbook fills the air. The mood is ruined. After glancing at the screen, its owner decides it’s too important to ignore, and after a hushed “one minute,” rushes out of the room to respond.

At a well-attended chupah, a request is made in the name of the chassan and kallah asking that cellphones be closed for the duration of this exalted ceremony. Many guests comply, but many others don’t, and continue to email, text, and even converse unabashedly throughout the proceedings.

These scenarios are not exaggerations; they occur countless times a day in almost every imaginable setting. In middle of davening, in the midst of a shiur, while visiting a seriously ill but very much awake and alert patient, desperate for company, on line at the checkout counter in a busy supermarket, the phone reigns supreme and comes close to destroying all vestiges of civil behavior, social etiquette, not to mention respect for authority and religion.

Drivers who talk and text are well aware that they are putting their own lives, the lives of their passengers, as well as the lives of all those on the road around them in danger. They are well aware that if caught, in addition to a fine, they will get points off their license that will increase their insurance premiums. And if their irresponsibility causes injury — to themselves or to others — they will have severe consequences to pay, never mind being saddled with guilt for the rest of their lives.

But the allure of the Smartphone, that all important instant gratification and communication tool, supercedes all rational considerations.

Late Friday afternoon, with Shabbos arriving within minutes, the Smartphone still lingers in the pocket of many people’s freshly starched Shabbos shirts. Using the very last possible moment for one last message, the device is reluctantly set aside for a meager twenty-five hours, to be taken up again at the earliest possible moment on Motzoai Shabbos.

Isn’t it sad that Torah-observant Jews watch the clock anxiously as they wait for Shabbos to end so they can get “connected” again? And what about the weaker elements in our society who tragically lack the yiras Shamayim and self-control to wait?

Tragically, according to those in the trenches, too many individuals, who appear to be Torah-observant Jews, cannot overcome their addiction and no longer refrain from violating Shabbos.

Our generation has the good fortune not to have to face the terrible test that plagued American Jews of yesteryear. We don’t have to choose between keeping Shabbos or finding a new job on Monday to feed our hungry families.

But this terrifying new nisayon is ensnaring the vulnerable elements in our society.

Like many other burning issues of the day, there is a temptation to deny the scope of this problem, to chalk up the alarms being raised about it to extremists who are uncomfortable with modern technology that is swallowing up the world faster than the speed of light.

That approach may be comfortable, but it would be unfair, because it will prevent us from comfronting the problem and seeking a solution to it.

Our community is plagued with very serious issues. They include kids-at-risk, adults-at-risk, marriages-at-risk, emotional health-at-risk.

What we often refuse to acknowledge is the devastating role Smartphone addiction plays in all these issues.

It is high time that we allow our thumbs to take a break long enough to evaluate where we are and how we got there. For our generation has been caught up in a crisis larger than ourselves, and it is high time we lift our eyes from the tiny screens to acknowledge that we have exchanged the slavery of Egypt with the bondage of cellphone addiction.

We hope the cartoon supplement, “The Freedom Connection,” to look into the mirror and take an honest look into ourselves.

As we prepare to search for the ten pieces of bread, let us start putting back the piece of our own life. Each have of us has been granted the free choice to choose how much we want to enslave ourselves to our cellphones.

This Pesach let us choose freedom.

This article appeared in print on page 42 of the April 9th, 2014 edition of Hamodia.