It was in one of my psychology classes back in college that I first learned about that dog – the one who was trained to salivate upon hearing a bell. It was amazing to hear how a dog, which naturally hungers for a piece of juicy meat, could replicate that exact craving after simply hearing a bell ring. This was a well-known story and one that became a common cliché. But to think it could actually apply to me was preposterous – or so I thought. Who knew that some 40 years later, I would turn into exactly that, minus the fur and the wagging tail, of course.
It’s been about nine years since I’ve
owned a smartphone. Back then, it was an enticing gadget, and I reasoned that
my children were grown and gone so I didn’t need to be concerned about their chinuch.
I dove into this new world headfirst and soon became part of the crowd.
Not long after, I started developing
“cellphone habits,” which brought that salivating dog to the forefront of my
mind. My phone, with its distinctive tone, was answered within the first two
rings. It was never very far from my grasp because, after all, what if the
person calling was someone very important? Or what if it was an emergency? And
it was not only calls. This device dinged and pinged throughout my day in
various tones: one for the phone, another for texts, and a third for WhatsApp.
I finally decided it was enough,
and I turned off the ringers for everything except phone calls. Then, somewhere
along the way, I decided to keep the phone in another room. It was consuming
too much of my time – until it wasn’t. And there I was, back to my old pattern all
over again. That proverbial bell rang, and I answered it without a moment’s
hesitation.
Did you ever notice how slowly
people start driving once the light turns green? That’s a common phenomenon
these days, which I know all about because, as I wait for the light to change,
there’s just so much to do. I can add a reminder to my calendar or text a
friend, all while having one eye on my phone with the other on the red light.
As time marches on, the same thought
keeps drumming a steady tattoo in my mind, asking me what I should do about it.
What’s
that? I’d never heard of that idea before. I was dumbstruck. Well, of course,
we all know how secular Greek culture is pervasive in American society, but we
are removed from all of that, aren’t we? The speaker’s next words were not only
humbling to hear but absolutely took my breath away. The Greeks encouraged competition,
she said, which meant that, to win, someone else needed to lose. It may seem
obvious, but I learned in that shiur that winning in this way can only be
at the expense of someone else. One can only be the winner if someone else is the
loser. Winning in the Greek sense is achieved only in comparison to someone
else. This makes the “loser” feel “less than,” which is not the Torah way to achieve
greatness. Competition, I learned, is best sought within oneself.
As
the speaker continued, she asked the women in the shiur to think about
what happens when someone we are close to makes a mistake and does something that
we ourselves wouldn’t dare do. This rush to be critical of others speaks of a competition
where we strive to be the winner, while they immediately become the losers. Our
perceived gain comes from putting others beneath us, which helps us feel better
about ourselves and gives us a sense of climbing higher. The growth potential here
would be to refrain from thinking in a condescending way, thereby accelerating
our own personal growth and allowing us to compete solely with ourselves.
Social media seems to be all about
competition. Does it really matter if someone took a fantastic trip or that we
can look into someone’s living room and see a house that’s as neat as a pin?
Does showcasing a fancy dinner or the prettiest tablescape on WhatsApp help
that individual grow into her best self? Social media has turned everything
into a contest, where practically everyone watching has the potential to feel
like a loser.
I reflect on all that has been
happening in my life since I started using a smartphone, and how attached and
dependent I am on it – and realize that I’ve mistakenly convinced myself all
these years that it’s been more efficient and timesaving to have one.
I’m moving towards taking a long
hiatus – perhaps a permanent one – from this little device that has become an
addiction. I smile as I think about what it would be like if, one day, someone came
along and told me about the latest and greatest app that I surely must have. I’d
scratch my head and give them a puzzled expression and say, “WhatsThat?”
