I am here at my laptop, TV off, no music playing, cell phone locked and idly sitting on the coffee table. I have intentionally decided that for these minutes of drafting this post, I will be focused singularly -- as much as possible, amid the noises from outside my windows and the constant wanderings of a curious mind -- on writing.
The possibility and allure of multi-tasking is suffusive and virtually unavoidable. Most everything about our lives is setup to facilitate our doing multiple things at once, driven largely by our attraction to productivity. We live in a world in which we regularly allow something to be “on in the background,”1 something that can be ok sometimes but is becoming more of an all-the-time thing.
I think there’s definitely times when mild multi-tasking is reasonable -- listening to the radio while driving, reading on your phone while riding the train or sitting in a waiting room, or maybe even watching a TV show while you cook. I know I do each of these things.
But I worry when the impulse to multi-task becomes uncontrollable and reaches into all areas of my life.
When I am home with a friend who’s visiting and we’re waiting to meet up with other friends for lunch, I need to put my phone down and be invested undividedly as we converse and catch up.
When my baby daughter is having tummy time and learning to scoot and grab and roll, I need to leave my phone on the table and turn the TV off to relish these teaching and learning moments.2
And when I am at Mass to receive the Word and Sacrament, I need to set aside criticisms of music ministry, of liturgical form, of preaching, and more to be fully present to what God is revealing.
When I find myself reaching for my phone or laptop while I’m already watching TV, already talking to someone, or otherwise already engaged, I usually can recognize it. Then I decide whether or not I’m being ridiculous (more often than not, it feels like I am) and can move on fairly decisively. It’s an annoying tendency, but daily life is riddled with these little opportunities for self-awareness and self-improvement.
Most of the time, when I find myself scrolling Twitter while watching a live sporting event, I make myself wait until commercials and only look then; when I realize I’m on my phone while watching a show I specifically put on, I can usually decide to pick one activity or the other and settle down.
I’ve found that typically when I’m doing that, it’s because neither of my multi-tasks is actually engaging me and I’m simply idle and “killing” time, which I really don’t like to do. It’s not too dissimilar to knowing the difference between being hungry and bored -- are you grabbing those potato chips or that candy bar or that can of pop because you’re bored, or because you need a little something something to eat or drink? Likewise, am I grabbing my phone while watching TV because I haven’t reviewed my feeds for fresh news stories, new sports and faith articles, and other humor, or because I’m bored and need some idle activity?
Typically, realizing I’m just filling an idle impulse helps me make a better choice. The best approach I’ve found is to close my phone or laptop, turn off the TV, and start from scratch. The best solution? Have a good book on hand. Whether by seeking recommendations from friends or pouring over the shelves at the library or bookstore, having a book that I actually want to read is usually a great sole object for my idle energy, a way to simplify and single-task.
That day-to-day wrestling isn’t mortally awful but does merit attention. The larger problem to me is when this impulse kicks in during Mass (or similarly, when trying to pray). Unlike the more humdrum ebbs and flows and daily self-awareness, this one weighs on me more heavily. When I can’t focus on the readings or calm myself to take in the Eucharistic Prayer or concentrate my attentions on the Body of Christ gathered in the pews and presented to me in Communion, I get a little more worried.
Yet similar to the challenges of daily life, Mass, too, is a regular opportunity to do better and be better spiritually. I try to find anchor moments that can pull me back from getting spacy or wandering towards criticisms that make an observer rather than a participant.
Make a good Penitential Rite to begin offering myself. Grab a hymnal or book to follow the text of the readings as I hear them aloud. Remember to bow my head when celebrating Christ’s Incarnation during the Creed. Look earnestly around at the moms and dads and sons and daughters and grandmas and grandpas who all dragged their butts to the pews to receive Christ on a Sunday. Sing all the way through the sending forth hymn to solidify the joy in heart and mind with music.3
It’s hard to fight the urge to busy one’s hands and mind beyond the singular task at hand. I want to keep fighting that fight and counterculturally resist accepting the norm of multi-tasking, especially by letting Mass be a stand-alone “task.” One’s presence to others and to God cannot really include other simultaneous tasks; that is more so a mark of self-absorption, and I don’t need any more of that!
1 I remember when new episodes of TV shows were self-contained appointment viewing for a designated half hour or hour each week rather than blocs of indefinite binge-watching (which often is part of a multi-tasking equation itself). Back in the days of Blockbuster Video and VCR recording.
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2 Though I will admit, there are times when the busyness I feel from trying to care for my daughter for long stretches of time leads me to want to have a TV show or news program running alongside our playtime to help me feel like I’m getting some time for myself -- true confessions of a parent!↩
3 My friend Tim O’Malley’s most recent book, Bored Again Catholic, is a great primer to help refamiliarize oneself with the beauty and richness of each part of the Mass.↩
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