WHAT WE CAN LEARN FROM SOCIAL MEDIA
Rabbi Elliot Strom
ROSH HASHANAH 5772
September 29, 2011
It was a television commercial from way back in the sixties, a commercial that began with the face of a lovely, young blonde telling us that she had just tried a new shampoo and loved it. And so, she said “I told two friends and they told two friends and they told two friends,” all the while her face and voice doubled, quadrupled and octupled on the screen. Looking back on it now (which I did recently on Youtube) I guess this was the sixties version of an ‘idea going viral.’
These days, of course, we don’t have to depend on such old-school “whisper down the lane,” friends telling friends two at a time to get a message out. These days we have the social media, Facebook and Twitter and Tumblr and in a flash, what we’re thinking, what we’re doing, what we’re feeling goes out to scores, perhaps hundreds of people. And if others find what we’re thinking, doing and feeling important enough, they send it on to their friends and their friends to THEIR friends until it may literally reach thousands of people in an instant.
Of course, for most of us, the news of what we’re having for breakfast or the latest incredibly cute thing our grandchild just did probably won’t go instantly viral although you never know…Who, for example, would ever have guessed that the Youtube video of Francis and Marlo Cowan, an elderly couple making joyful music on the piano at the Mayo Clinic, would approach ten million viewers?
Still, as wonderful as this is, there are far more important uses for the internet and social media. This last year especially has given us a vivid reminder of the power of social media to change the world in some very significant and far-reaching ways.
Just look at what happened beginning last February. After decades of pent-up demand for freedom and democracy in the Middle East, after years of chafing against the greed, cruelty and despotism of its unelected rulers, the people of one Arab country after another have risen up in anger, gathered in the streets, camped out in the city squares and forced one tyrant after another to retreat.
Now, the demands of the people didn’t suddenly change in the year 2011. Their frustrations and thwarted ambitions weren’t anything new. The tyrants didn’t suddenly become more tyrannical. What was different this time around was the power of the social media to get people together, to unite thousands and hundreds of thousands around the idea of freedom. And so, there they were, out in the squares of Tunis and Cairo, staging peaceful people’s revolutions.
Of course, now, several months later, we can’t help but harbor real doubts about where these revolutions have gone and may go next. After the initial successes and the heady optimism of those early days, we see these popular uprisings now running into a brick wall of indifference, resistance and intractable problems. We see how peaceful masses are no match for the tanks and rockets of a heavily armed dictator. And for us particularly, as lovers of Israel, there are serious, serious questions about what these changes may portend for the Jewish state.
Still…with all this, what we see here is the power of the social media to be an engine for change, for unity, for people power. We see how it can get people talking, finding common beliefs and passions, uniting around shared dreams. And that is no mean feat.
And while these lessons have been writ large in the Middle East, we’ve certainly seen them here in America as well. I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that our lives in this country have been completely revolutionized by the social media. We are surely today better connected. We know more of the details of our friends’ and families’ lives on a moment-by-moment basis (sometimes more than we’d like to). We know what causes they support, what issues they’re passionate about and, of course, what they “like” at any given moment.
In some ways, this is wonderful.
But we also know the dangerous underside of the social media – the potential for invasion of privacy, the opportunity for abusive cyber-bullying, the “dumbing down” of serious discussion, the power it gives to lunatics, racists and flash mobs.
With all this, it’s no wonder we’re so focused -- now more than ever -- on the incredible power of the social media for bringing people together—for good and for ill. And so, this Rosh Hashanah, I want to look closely at the internet and social media and suggest three lessons we can learn from them and carry with us into the New Year 5772.
The first thing we can learn from the social media is the difference between “liking” and “loving.”
Through Facebook, we are encouraged to show our support of something someone has said or done or a cause they espouse or a product they endorse or a business they frequent. On any given day, we’re asked to show that we “like” a wide variety of people, ideas and things – from a supermarket to an upcoming synagogue event, from a favorite song to an exterminator (as I discovered when I pulled up behind a Nationwide Exterminators truck at a stop light last week.)
But, I wonder, what does this “liking” really amount to? What does it mean that we “like” a store or an organization, a person or an idea? Not much, I suspect. Because, you see, “liking” – as we use that term on Facebook – is such a tepid thing, such a lukewarm and diluted thing. We may “like” a great many things and people in our lives – the list, I suspect, is endless -- but these things don’t generally make much of a difference in the way we live our lives.
Let me show you what I mean.
In my life, I “like” a great many things but I love only a few. I like the Phillies and the Eagles and the Flyers. I like my house. I like my car. I like my neighbors. I like McCaffrey’s and Rembrandt toothpaste and my Ipad. But if I lived in another place, I’d probably like that house and those neighbors just as much. If I purchased another car, I’d probably like that one too. And if I decided to shift to a different grocery store or dental hygiene product or tablet device, it probably wouldn’t change my life very much at all.
But then there are the things I really care about, the things and people I don’t merely ”like” but actually love. These are the ones that really matter to me. What happens to them profoundly affects me. When they’re up, I’m up. When they’re not right, I’m not right. What am I talking about? I love Israel although she sometimes makes me crazy. I love America although she often makes me crazy. I love my family, my grandchildren, my children, my wife although….no, they’re just perfect the way they are.
I think you get the idea here. The things and people that we love are not interchangeable. They have the power to upset us, to concern us but also to inspire us and fire us up. The things we love are the very reason we live; the things we “like,” not so much.
What does this difference between liking and loving have to do with us here in this community? Honestly, I believe this synagogue, this community is a place that a lot of us would say we “like.” We like the Religious School, the programs, the services, the people – we like them all well enough. But, for a great many of us, it’s true to say we like Shir Ami but we don’t love it. It doesn’t occupy a very high priority in our lives. It doesn’t change who we are, what kind of people we want to be. It doesn’t stir our souls. We like it – but we don’t love it.
And that’s sad. Because the things and especially the people we love -- these are the passions that make our lives come alive. When we love an idea, we can’t seem to stop talking about. When we love a person, we want to be with them, share the important times in our lives, share our secrets with them. And when we love a community, it becomes paramount for us. We feel at home there. We want to make our own special contribution there.
I believe it’s time for us to see if we can’t raise up our liking of this synagogue into loving. I know one thing for certain: those who do so experience a sense of belonging, of purpose, of meaning unlike anything else in life. Their dearest friends are here. Their most profound spiritual moments are spent here. Their celebrations and losses are given meaning here. They are at home here as nowhere else.
Today, I am asking all of us to take a look at our lives and see if it isn’t time to put aside ‘liking’ this congregation and have to courage to risk ‘loving’ her. It is, to be sure, more dangerous. The possibilities for disappointment are greater. The hurts can wound more deeply. But the highs of loving, the intensity, the passion, these are incomparable.
Here then is one thing, the first thing we can learn from the Internet and social media. When it comes to this congregation, it’s time for us to boldly go from “liking” to “loving.”
The second lesson we can learn from the Internet and social media is about how we present ourselves to the world. These days, I know, we are especially conscious of the concept of an avatar, especially after the popular movie of the same name. An avatar, of course, is an iconic symbol that stands for us, that represents us in the online world. When we play a game on one of the social media sites, when we try our hand at Wii golf or bowling, we create a stylized human image, a picture of how we would like to appear to those around us, an avatar.
How tempting for us to choose an image perhaps a little taller, a little more attractive, maybe with a little more hair than in real life. (After all, who chooses to put up an unflattering image of themselves when they log on to J-date??) To me it seems clear: on the internet, on the social media, we create avatars for ourselves, airbrushing away our imperfections, presenting ourselves in the best possible light to the world around us.
Of course it’s not just on cyber-space we do so. In real life too, we often create idealized images of ourselves. We work hard at our appearance – hair, clothes, nails, shoes. We surround ourselves with symbols and signs we hope will make a positive impression on others. We carry a certain kind of smart phone, we drive a particular car, we vacation in a certain place…all in an effort to let the world know how we wish to be seen and understood.
But here’s the thing: in real life, it’s impossible to successfully carry on this process for very long. Because maintaining this façade is just too hard, too burdensome, too exhausting over the long haul. Sooner or later inevitably, we let down our guard, our avatar collides with our true essence and others see right through us.
About the only place we can maintain this kind of fiction, this kind of idealized image is in our on-line relationships. Here we can pretend to be anything we want for as long as we want. We can hide behind that avatar and never have to let the world see us as we truly are – never see our hurts and anxieties, our self-doubt and our wounds. And that is truly a shame. Because it’s only when we open up to others and allow them to see our imperfect, broken selves – not some idealized avatar – that we can truly live and love.
What can we, as a synagogue community, learn from all this? I believe this congregation – and others like it -- is perhaps the one place we can present ourselves as we really are and be accepted and valued. It is here – and for many of us, here alone – that we come expecting to be real and expecting that same kind of transparency from others around us.
I believe this synagogue can be our “third place,” that place – after work and home – where we go to let down our guard, to relax with others like ourselves and really be ourselves. That is particularly true for us during these High Holy Days, the time our tradition tells us to take off the masks we wear so much of the time and come clean with our friends and family, our God and ourselves.
Do you know the story of Rabbi Zusya who was on his death bed, surrounded by disciples, worrying and fretting aloud as he prepared to meet his Maker. His disciples, who knew him to be a uniquely holy man, were shocked. Why would Reb Zusya, such a good and beautiful soul, be afraid to stand in judgment before the throne of God?
Reb Zusya explained. “I am soon to stand before the Master of the Universe. When I get there, I’m certain God won’t ask me why I wasn’t Abraham. God knows He didn’t make me Abraham. And God won’t ask me why I wasn’t Moses. God didn’t make me Moses. But when God asks me why I wasn’t Zusya, then what shall I answer?”
My friends, there are few enough places in this world where we can be our true selves, the people God meant us to be. I know how much we need a place like this one to open up and be honest with one another. How wonderful to know there’s a place we can go and not have to hide behind an avatar. What a joy to stop pretending and just be real! Here, then, is a second powerful message we can lern from the internet and social media.
Lastly, and perhaps most important, we can learn from the Internet a concept called “crowd-sourcing.” Do you know the expression? Even if you don’t, if you know about Wikipedia, you already understand what it means. The idea is as simple and elegant as it is radical. Until Wikipedia and other crowd-sourcing sites, when we wanted to learn about something quickly, we would leaf through an encyclopedia or search entries on the Internet and see what the authorities had to say.
But Wikipedia – and others like it -- is built on a very different model. Instead of relying on authoritative sources, it invites virtually anyone with interest and knowledge to create an article on a given subject, then submit that article to the examination of untold hundreds and thousands of others who are then free to update, expand and, most important, correct it.
Because this is so different from anything we have ever seen before, many of us – myself included – were more than a little skeptical when we first learned about it. And, to be sure, the system is not perfect; it still allows for misinformation and sometimes, when a particular topic is “hot” enough, an article can become a battleground for partisan forces.
Still, at its best, the wiki model is the most democratic there is. It is the ultimate example of the whole being greater than the sum of its parts. That’s what makes it work. That’s why it’s almost always at the top of any search list we turn up on the Net. That’s why so many people have a sense of ownership about it, because they contribute to it, because it is truly “theirs.”
What can we here at Shir Ami learn from this? As a synagogue, I believe this is a model rich in possibilities. The whole idea of crowd-sourcing reminds us – in this information age -- that no one has a monopoly on the truth, that everyone has their own special, often essential, contribution to make. It reminds us to listen to every voice, to give everyone the opportunity to have real input into the system, to teach as well as learn, to evaluate, critique and correct rather than simply go along for the ride.
In theory, the opportunities for input are already there and wide open. But, in truth, most of us don’t seem moved to do so. And I wonder why. Perhaps we have a sense that nobody is really listening. Perhaps it is a fear that we don’t know enough to offer something worthwhile. But for most of us, I suspect, it is that we just haven’t felt our soul stirred enough to join in. We seem, many of us, to be like the man who walks by a church where the people inside are dancing ecstatically to the most wonderful music. Standing at the window, unable to hear the music within, the man sees the wild behavior of the people and assumes they must be mad. I wonder: How many of us are standing outside the window, hearing no music, seeing the energy and enthusiasm of the people inside and wondering what it’s all about?
My friends, I believe it’s time for us to create a true wiki-synagogue, a place where everyone contributes -- seniors and youngsters, young couples and empty-nesters, singles and marrieds, gays and straights, those born Jewish and those who choose to identify with the Jewish people .
That’s why we are creating a series of parlor meetings over these fall months where members of every stripe will be asked to add their unique experience and viewpoint. That’s why I’ll be launching a blog on our newly-redesigned website which will invite everyone to respond, to say where we agree and disagree, to carry on a dialogue respectfully but passionately. This will be our Shir Ami way of creating a wiki congregation that truly is greater than the sum of its parts, a wiki-synagogue that learns and expands and grows through the contributions of every one of its members.