Can we all be friends? Let’s go beyond Facebook to help one another

Are we friends? It’s possible. My Facebook friend ticker just crossed the 400-amigo mark. Since I’ve never even met many of the people on my list, you could be among them. Of course, 400 is chump change on Facebook. I’ve seen some users top 1,000 friends, an astonishing feat considering I haven’t befriended more than 100 people in my life.

But I’m a serial friend-adder. Or I was until Facebook rebooted my notions about privacy and relationships.

I joined Facebook four years ago, initially to spy on my son, who attended U.C. Berkeley at the time. In those days, most users were college kids. But now, Facebook has 400 million users, including every baby boomer alive.

At first, Facebook was my shiny new toy. I experienced astonishing reunions with people from all stages of my past. It was a digital “This Is Your Life” marathon.

I joined pages such as “I Love Israel” and the Beatles Fan Club. My fiancée, Robyn, roped me into Facebook games like Farmville and Little Green Patch (though I later added the page “I Don’t Give a Damn About Your Patch or Your Farm”). 

Eventually, I realized being on Facebook is like standing naked in the middle of a forest clearing: Everyone behind the trees can see you, but you can’t necessarily see them.

Some people really want to be seen. I’ve had Facebook friends who comment about their bladder habits. Others dropped Facebook like a pixilated lead balloon when they comprehended the site’s inherent exhibitionism.

That’s the crux of my Facebook dilemma: Do I want people to know me, or do I prefer to hide in the forest?

The answer is: yes.

My main sticking point has been the blurred line between my work and personal lives. I’ve had Facebook friends surprised to learn their former hipster pal is now a professional Jew.

And I’ve fretted over friends from my Jewish world seeing photos of me as the longhaired stoner of yore.

I wondered about Facebook’s official stance on privacy, and whether Jewish ethics might play a role. After all, the Palo Alto company was founded by a Jew (25-year-old — now billionaire — Mark Zuckerberg) and is run by Chief Operating Officer Sheryl Sandberg, a member of Temple Beth Jacob in Redwood City.

For answers I attended Sandberg’s address at a recent breakfast hosted by the Business Leadership Council of

the S.F.-based Jewish Community Federation.

I expected Sandberg to talk up her company’s success. But she didn’t dwell on that. Instead the former economist railed against inequality, global poverty and the fact that 6 million people die annually from malaria. That 6 million figure did not escape her Jewish radar.

Sandberg decried misdirected philanthropic dollars within the Jewish community. The subtext of her message: Jewish day schools are important but perhaps should not be a priority when poverty and preventable diseases exact Haiti-level death tolls every two weeks.

As for privacy, she did offer one intriguing observation: In the early days of the Internet, users hid behind the anonymity of made-up screen names.

But on Facebook, everybody knows your name. The new Web is all about the real you, right down to your birthday, favorite band and religion (mine is “Jewtastic”).

I think there is something Jewish about this incremental self-revelation. As God says in Isaiah 43:1, “Fear not … I have summoned you by name.” Not so deep down, we want to be known by name, known for the good we do and the ties that bind us to others. 

Facebook is one place to do that.

Which is fine with Sandberg, I’m sure. But for the Jewish audience at the BLC breakfast that morning, her summons was slightly different.

“I’m discontented with myself,” she said, Schindlerlike, about the limits of her own charity. “I should be doing more. We must leverage our discontent to do true tzedakah.”

Sounds like a status update to me.

Dan Pine can be reached at .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address).