Do you answer work emails from your bed?

Check social media notifications during dinner?

Try to carve out a few minutes of quiet while stuck in traffic?

We pride ourselves on multitasking –  the real cost, however, of living everywhere at once is that we end up truly present nowhere.

In Parashat Re’eh, the Torah identifies this ‘scatterbrained existence’, being all over the place’, as a spiritual hazard. As the Jewish people prepare to transition from the desert to the settled land of Israel, Moshe issues a strict instruction regarding how they are to connect with the Divine: “You shall not do so to the Lord your God. But to the place which the Lord your God shall choose out of all your tribes to put His name there… there shall you seek His habitation, and there shall you come.” (Deuteronomy 12:4-5)

God explicitly forbids building private altars wherever a person happens to feel like it, what the text calls b’chol makom, “in every place.” Instead, the Torah demands a centralised, dedicated space: a single sanctuary where focus, sacredness, and community merge together.

This is a restrictive geographical rule. Psychologically, it reveals a simple truth: we cannot build depth without dedicated environments.

Talmud Berakhot 6b describes this psychological reality in our daily life: “Rabbi Chelbo said in the name of Rabbi Huna: Anyone who establishes a fixed place for his prayer (Kove’a Makom LeT’filato), the God of Abraham is his help.”

Why does having a Makom Kavu‘a, a fixed physical spot, matter so much? We are deeply environmental creatures. Our physical surroundings trigger our mental states. When we sit in the exact same chair every morning to read, study, or pray, our minds does not have to spend energy adapting to the room.

Our physical environment acts as an anchor, signalling to our souls that it is time to quiet the noise and focus.

When we lack dedicated spaces in our daily routines, our focus collapses. If our desk is where we work, eat, watch videos, and argue on the internet, our brains never knows which mode they should be in. By failing to set boundaries around our environments, we invite chronic disharmony into our lives.

Talmud Berakhot 34b, relates to this level of environmental intentionality. Rabbi Chiya bar Abba would pray specifically between the pillars of the study hall where he learned. He created a dedicated micro-environment inside a larger space, shielding his focus from external disruptions.

Establishing a “centralised space” in modern life means building physical and temporal sanctuaries around what matters most to you.

It means designating your dining room table as a phone-free zone so your family can actually look each other in the eye.

It means creating a specific corner of your home reserved solely for quiet study or prayer, untouched by the clutter of your daily work.

The command in Parashat Re’eh to seek out a single, chosen place is not just a political statement about where God can be found. It is about recognising our own human limits. God is everywhere, omnipresent, but we are not. If we try to do everything everywhere all the time, we end up accomplishing nothing deeply.

By creating dedicated spaces for work, for rest, for family, and for faith, we honour the boundary lines that allow our souls to truly focus and thrive.

May your coffee be stronger than Monday!