In September of 1971, the shul I grew up in welcomed a new Rav. It was to be the first of Rabbi Irving Rosnerâs, AâH, many wonderful years with Congregation Sons of Israel, Yonkers.
The day I met Rabbi Rosner, he taught me something I think about every year at this time. Iâve taught some version of this idea many times, in many ways, and itâs time to acknowledge him as the source of the core concept. Iâve come to better understand what he meant, now that the alternative has been identified.
Iâm pretty sure that in 1971, I had never heard of âmultitasking,â so I didnât realize that Rabbi Rosner was showing me that we doven for its antithesis as we prepare to begin a new year.
Our preparations begin with the start of Elul, when we add a Psalm to our daily dovening: lâDovid, Hashem ohri vâyishi. What do we ask for in that Psalm, what do we mean when we say achas shaâalti maiâais Hashem? Rabbi Rosner taught me a new way to think about it. He said it can mean, âI ask for oneness.â
Many parents think they can multitask. They try to get a few things done at the same time. Some parents think theyâre really good at it. But no parent has ever been able to show me a place in the dovening, any time of the year, that we doven to be able to multitask, to do more things at the same time. We doven to be one; to be able to focus on one thing at a time, at least sometimes.
How important is it to be one, sometimes? Thatâs hard to say, until we look more closely at the alternative of being always divided, distracted, driven to multitask our way out of endless demands.
We know that anger can be tantamount to idolatry. Did you know that multitasking can be the cause of anger?
â[W]hen you are confronted with the sixth decision after the fifth interruption in the midst of a search for the ninth missing piece of information on the day that the third deal has collapsed and the 12th impossible request has blipped unbidden across your computer screen, your brain begins to panic, reacting just as if that sixth decision were a bloodthirsty, man-eating tiger.
âAs a specialist in learning disabilities, I have found that the most dangerous disability is not any formally diagnosable condition like dyslexia or ADD. It is fear. Fear shifts us into survival mode and thus prevents fluid learning and nuanced understanding. Certainly, if a real tiger is about to attack you, survival is the mode you want to be in. But if youâre trying to deal intelligently with a subtle task, survival mode is highly unpleasant and counterproductive.
âWhen the frontal lobes approach capacity and we begin to fear that we canât keep up, the relationship between the higher and lower regions of the brain takes an ominous turn ⦠In survival mode, the deep areas of the brain assume control and begin to direct the higher regions. As a result, the whole brain gets caught in a neurological catch-22. The deep regions interpret the messages of overload they receive from the frontal lobes in the same way they interpret everything: primitively. They furiously fire signals of fear, anxiety, impatience, irritability, anger, or panic. These alarm signals shanghai the attention of the frontal lobes, forcing them to forfeit much of their power. Because survival signals are irresistible, the frontal lobes get stuck sending messages back to the deep centers saying, âMessage received. Trying to work on it but without success.â These messages further perturb the deep centers, which send even more powerful messages of distress back up to the frontal lobes.
âMeanwhile, in response to whatâs going on in the brain, the rest of the bodyâparticularly the endocrine, respiratory, cardiovascular, musculoskeletal, and peripheral nervous systemsâhas shifted into crisis mode and changed its baseline physiology from peace and quiet to red alertâ¦
âIntelligence dims. In a futile attempt to do more than is possible, the brain paradoxically reduces its ability to think clearly.
âThis neurological event occurs when a manager is desperately trying to deal with more input than he possibly can. In survival mode, the manager makes impulsive judgments, angrily rushing to bring closure to whatever matter is at hand. He feels compelled to get the problem under control immediately, to extinguish the perceived danger lest it destroy him. He is robbed of his flexibility, his sense of humor, his ability to deal with the unknown. He forgets the big picture and the goals and values he stands for. He loses his creativity and his ability to change plans. He desperately wants to kill the metaphorical tiger. At these moments he is prone to melting down, to throwing a tantrum, to blaming others, and to sabotaging himself. Or he may go in the opposite direction, falling into denial and total avoidance of the problems attacking him, only to be devoured.â
[Excerpted from Overloaded Circuits by Edward M. Hallowell; in On Managing Yourself; Harvard Business Review Press; 2010; pp.85-86.]
You are a parent. You manage yourself and your children, or at least you try.
Stop trying to manage more than you possibly can.
Donât doven for everything to be better.
Doven for one thing to be better, for one person to do better. Begin with someone. SomeONE.
Donât doven for the ability to keep up. Doven for the ability to slow down.
Doven for oneness, the antithesis of multitasking, because each one of your children, at least sometimes, deserves to be more than a task.
Rabbi Yitzchak Shmuel Ackerman is a Licensed Mental Health Counselor with specialties in marriage, relationships, and parenting. He works with parents and educators, and conducts parenting seminars for shuls and organizations. He can be reached at 718-344-6575.