I love my iPod. That’s probably no surprise. As a music lover I simply can’t imagine living without it. It keeps me motivated at the gym during those indoor workouts when I don’t have the scenery, sounds of nature, or my running buddy Alan, to inspire me. It keeps me company in the car when the talking heads on NPR have tried my patience. It provides me a convenient way for me to keep up with various podcasts that no one else in my living or work space really cares to listen to. It really is an ingenious invention. Do parents today ever have to yell at their kids for having their stereos too loud? And, like, I’m sure, many sitting in this sanctuary this morning, my ipod allows me to always have tons of music and information (perhaps way more than I ever really need) nearby whether tucked in a small pocket of my purse, jeans, or gym shorts. No records, no CD holders, no bulky players and accompanying components that were so popular a generation (or two) ago when those battles over music volume and style were so commonplace.
But as an article in Monday’s New York Times noted, there is a significant cost to all of this digital portability and the cost isn’t just the reduction of friction between parent and child over music played in the house. As the article noted, “the ease of loading songs onto a computer or iPod has meant that a generation of fans has happily traded fidelity (aesthetic quality) for portability and convenience.” Perhaps more troubling is that our ears have been trained to accept such mediocrity – we are, generally speaking, no longer interested in having the quality restored. Audio engineers have found that portability is a far more revered quality than sound quality. In other words, we consumers will pay big bucks for convenience and compactness far more than we will for increased quality. Pity, really. And it is not just the aesthetic quality of sound that is lost in our desire to perpetually be on the move; portability of our music has greatly impacted the quality of the listening experience itself. How many of us just sit down and make listening to music its own activity (outside of a concert hall). I for one am someone who treasures music, listens often and considers myself a critical listener, yet more often than not I’m doing something else while listening: cooking, running on a treadmill, driving,… I am old enough to recall when just listening to music, perhaps while analyzing and perusing the album covers and lyrics was an activity all to its own. Ok – it was the late 70’s -early 80’s, maybe we got up and danced, but you get the idea. Gathering around our music was not saved for the public concert hall or stadium. We gathered with our friends in our homes where daily music appreciation was far from the private ear plugged affair it is today. And while we 21st century parents may rejoice in the peace and quiet, there just may be a vital aspect of relationship building that is lost along with those conversations, even arguments, over sharing musical space in the household. A disturbing down side to the digitization of music is that so much of music listening has become an activity for not only for the individual, but for the individual who no longer needs a home to plug into.
Bamidbar. This Shabbat we begin recalling our journey through the wilderness. Scholars who study the bible from a critical, scientific lens argue that the Book of Numbers/Bamidbar was originally the final book of a canon known as the Tetrateuch. According to this theory, parts of the original Numbers were moved to the end of Deuteronomy by the final editor in order to make the entire canon a seamless literary unit after the addition of the Deuteronomic text. This is a compelling editorial hypothesis (particularly if we accept its assumption regarding dating); for, at the end of the book of Bamidbar we are eager for, we expect the Israelites to get to Canaan – that Land of milk and honey they’ve been promised and for which they’ve been waiting. Let’s face it, nobody would read all of the regulations of Deuteronomy if the fulfillment of that land promise was placed at the end of Bamidbar. What would be the point? The drama would be over. This period of wandering in the desert of which we now read for a number of weeks is a temporary destination, the goal is Canaan; the goal is to make permanent roots – to get some place and stay there. Yes, Abraham was instructed to lech l’cha, to go forth, back in Genesis, but that command had the full intent of propelling Abe and his family to a settling place.
How ironic -- now that we are so settled, that we have established roots not only in Israel (that historic land of which the text speaks) but also in communities throughout the world - that we seek to fight against that which roots us. We want to unplug, to go wireless – to free ourselves from what we define as the burden of permanence.
The opening portion of the Book of Bamidbar, about which our Bar Mitzvah, Matthew, will speak in a moment, gives us a glimpse into the desire for roots, a desire for a sense of connectedness and home during a period when in a sense the entire community is unplugged – in a state of wandering with nothing more than a verbally stated – one could say ‘wireless’ promise of future rootedness. In truth, we, as humans, require a balance. Even as we strive to cut the cords that connect us to our homes and offices, and perhaps all the more so, we demand to be connected – I’d say even hyper-connected. Who among us doesn’t feel even a mild sense of frustration or anxiety when our wireless gadgets are disabled for whatever reason or when we simply choose to turn them off.
The example of the current state of the music industry underscores that the ability to free ourselves from that which keeps us rooted is not without consequence. As we continue to seek those wireless conveniences that free us from being bound to our homes, offices, and physical structures, let us allow the wanderings of our Israelite ancestors to remind us of the value of seeking a grounding place to settle and establish roots…even if it means plugging in every once in awhile.
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