I

n a recent essay at The Conversation, Simon Gottschalk, a sociology professor at the University of Nevada, takes up a question many of us ask regularly: “In an age of incredible advancements that can enhance our human potential, why does daily life seem so overwhelming and anxiety-inducing? Why aren’t things easier?”

For a possible answer, he turns to the writings of German sociologist Hartmut Rosa, who identifies one culprit in particular: The force of acceleration. According to Rosa,

Noticeable acceleration began more than two centuries ago, during the Industrial Revolution. But this acceleration has itself… accelerated. Guided by neither logical objectives nor agreed-upon rationale, propelled by its own momentum, and encountering little resistance, acceleration seems to have begotten more acceleration, for the sake of acceleration.

Today, mechanical acceleration affects the digital sector in particular. But paradoxically, it also goes hand in hand with an acceleration of the pace of life. Even though mechanical acceleration, by shortening the time it takes to complete tasks, was intended to create more available time for the individual, late modern society does not enjoy the luxury of more leisure time….On the contrary, individuals suffer from a constant time shortage….

Professor Gottschalk, author of “The Terminal Self: Everyday Life in Hypermodern Times” — an examination of the social and psychological effects of new information and communication technologies — writes of the very real damage that a society that enshrines “speed for the sake of speed” as a supreme value does to its members:

At the personal level… it deteriorates how we approach our everyday activities, deforms how we relate to each other, and erodes a stable sense of self. It leads to burnout at one end of the continuum and to depression at the other. Cognitively, it inhibits sustained focus and critical evaluation. Physiologically, it can stress our bodies and disrupt vital function.

If the greatly accelerated pace of modern life challenges people in society at large, it stands to reason that it’s even a far greater issue for Torah-observant Jews, whose numerous family and community responsibilities already make for very crowded lives that are long on obligation and very short on time.

In his column in the current issue of Jewish Action, Allen Fagin, the Orthodox Union’s executive vice president, addresses the implications of frum Jews’ frenetic lives. He details how marriage and parenting, limud haTorah and kiyum hamitzvos, and communal involvement all suffer when the end of a workday and workweek leave us physically and emotionally exhausted and perpetually running late and catching up.

He traces much of the problem to the high expense of living an observant life, due to the costs associated with larger families, tuitions and camp fees, housing, simchah celebrations, and assistance to married children. This necessitates working and commuting longer and longer hours, particularly for white-collar professionals, which leaves people drained and strapped for time.

While the phenomenon Mr. Fagin describes is surely aggravated by the acceleration of which Rosa and Gottschalk speak, the latter are addressing something that is not limited to suburbanites in high-income jobs. They’re talking about everyone, even those who have easy jobs or work from home or who don’t work at all.

There seems to be a near-universal sense that our lives are constantly filling and refilling with things to take care of, places to go, errands to do, people to speak with, despite our ostensible best efforts to clear away time for ourselves, family and friends, and to do the things we consider truly important in life. And the cluttering of our daily schedules in that way tracks very closely the growing ubiquity of communication and information technology in our lives.

Distinguishing between these two issues is important. Mr. Fagin writes that “there may not be any solutions that fully address the fundamentals of the problem of an overextended, over-programmed existence.” And for many people who are caught in the squeeze of the particular genre of frum life he describes, he may be right. Short of radically reducing their standard of living, there may be no way out of their conundrum.

When it comes, however, to the other topic, the question of how all of us might slow down and unclutter our lives, Professor Rosa admits not to “even have a rough sketch on how that could be accomplished.” But we, as Torah Jews, can at least create one.

WHY DO PEOPLE ALLOW THEIR LIVES to be overtaken in this way? Rosa suggests that the reason for this is the human desire “to realize as many options as possible from the infinite palette of possibilities that life presents to us…Yet no matter how fast we become, the proportion of the experiences we have will continuously shrink in the face of those we missed.”

Sounds good, and there may be some truth to Rosa’s theory, but perhaps not the whole truth. I would reframe it in this, perhaps less noble-sounding, way: For many moderns who’ve bought the dogma of modernity, religion isn’t even an option, and they are thus deprived of the primary source for that which they most desperately need — meaning. Many others who do have religion in their lives haven’t been successful in accessing meaning through it, for a variety of reasons.

Rendered bereft, they cast about for an alternative.

My father z”l liked to tell the story of a fellow, Bernstein, who’s been drafted and sent to an army base. One day, word begins spreading around the base that Bernstein has started acting weird, going around the base all day long picking up papers and putting them back down. When the strange behavior persists, Bernstein is sent for a visit with the base psychiatrist. The doctor tries having a normal conversation with him, but sitting across from him, Bernstein is oblivious, spending the entire time picking papers up from his desk, muttering “that’s not it.” Next stack of papers — “that’s not it.” Third stack, same thing.

Seeing that Bernstein is truly “out to lunch,” the psychiatrist has no choice but to pull out a form for a psychiatric discharge from the service, which he fills out and slides across the desk. Bernstein picks it up and looks at it, a wide grin forming on his face. “That’s it!” he exclaims, as he heads for the door.

There are very many Bernsteins in the world, who go through life thinking that “it” — the experience, the toy, the situation that will make all of life’s troubles worthwhile — is just around the corner. But then they get that toy, that experience — and realize, “that’s not it.” So it must be the next thing, or the one after that.

Then there are others who may sense from the outset that no such alternate source of meaning will be forthcoming, because if it is to satisfy the soul’s longing, meaning cannot be self-created; it must come from beyond this limited existence. But since staring starkly into the abyss of a meaningless existence can drive one mad, they keep themselves busy with Rosa’s “infinite palette of possibilities.”

Where do Torah Jews fit into this? I’ll save that for another column.

Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 717. Eytan Kobre may be contacted directly at kobre@mishpacha.com