I was once, and have aspirations to be again, a movie buff. I recall that a personal high was the weekend before my daughter (now 4.5 years old) was born, I had finally seen every single movie on the shelves of my neighborhood Blockbuster. Yep, every one. Including the Community Service videos, which means that I know how to give myself a breast cancer exam and am well versed in strategies to say “no” to crack.
Since her birth, my movie watching went down-hill. I attribute it to two factors: the first, that it became increasingly difficult to carve out two-hours or so to watch a movie, with most films being interrupted several times by a crying child or a phone call or any number of other annoyances. And the second is that, in a post-child world, I found that my attention span is now restricted to 20-30 minute bursts of attentiveness. It has become difficult to sit still and focus on movies.
I’ve gotten better over the years and did not have a similar backslide when my son was born 8 months ago. I can sit through a good movie now and, while at times a bit antsy, I am now able to sit down to watch movies late at night without interruption.
The current film, thanks to the good folks at Netflix, is the second Transformers movie, The Rise of the Fallen. While not a very good movie, I was struck by an exchange of dialogue early in the film. Optimus Prime is asking for help from the main human character in a fight against the Decepticons. The human, frustrated, argues- “It’s not my fight. It’s not my war. I’m sorry I can’t help you.”
This got me thinking: how do we decide what causes merit our attention and action? With so many valid moral and ethical causes with which to get involved, or to which we could contribute financial support, I wonder how we decide what our issues will be and what issues will be left to others.
It is impossible to be sincerely active in every cause that comes across our plates. I remember in college there those on my campus referred to as “Causeheads”- people who jumped on the bandwagon of whichever cause was protesting that week or whichever cause was on the front page of the NY Times. These people did not receive much respect or validation when they stand on their soapbox and shed tears each week. They were, in fact, held in only slightly higher regard than the “Mactavist”, the person who got involved in a cause to impress a potential sexual partner.
I receive in my email inbox two or three “alerts” each week (and two or three a day through Facebook), asking for my involvement and appealing to my sense of morality and fairness. And while I read each one carefully, I classify them in the following manner: Level 1- issues of an immediate concern with which I am already passionate toward; Level 2- issues of an immediate concern with which I have had little to no previous involvement and where my participation is not likely to make much of an impact; and Level 3- issues that I have no desire to be involved with, even though I agree in spirit with the call to action. Any cause in Level 3 gets an immediate delete, and most in the Level 2 category eventually find a similar fate.
I wish I felt more guilty about deleting these messages.
Whatever fights we have chosen to be ours, whichever wars we have offered our time and finances and hearts to fight, we should constantly do an emotional check. Are we involved the way we need to be? Do we still feel compelled by the cause or are we now participating out of a sense of obligation or habit?
As we move through 2010, there will no doubt be many areas and issues with which we could get involved. May we know who or what we are fighting, how we are fighting, and whether the fight is still ours. And if the answer to any of these questions leaves us wanting, may we re-examine our priorities and devote ourselves to areas that can fill us with passion.
From the Study of Rabbi Brad 