I must admit to a growing addiction – one that is sweeping the country – an addiction to my smartphone. At first it was the ease of writing and receiving emails, a luxury in my line of work as a pulpit rabbi allowing me to answer the concerns of my congregants and colleagues with ease and punctuality.
Then, of course, there is the internet! The speed at which I can look something up (primarily to settle a bet between my wife and myself) is truly remarkable. And I can’t forget Facebook; a great way to stay in touch with friends and family and share with them the doting love of a father who thinks his two young daughters are simply the cutest.
Finally, I must admit to another realm of this addiction, the game ‘Words with Friends’, which pits me against my sister, my stepmother and my cousin in a popular recreation of a classic board game.
Oh yeah, it makes phone calls too! What a world we live in – all this at the touch of a button, at the flick of the screen.
But then there are the downsides as well; the feeling of panic that accompanies the realization that I have left my smartphone at home – even though I am only going to walk the dog. That phantom vibration I feel in my leg, as though my epidermis is aching to be interconnected with the world. And of course the struggle I feel on vacation or on a day off as I stare at my email inbox and the number of emails silently taunting me.
The fact is, in this increasingly technological and staggeringly global world, many of us have come to the terrifying realization that our time is no longer our own.
This is why, more than ever, we need Shabbat in our lives. Arguably the greatest gift that Judaism has to offer our modern world is the reclamation of our sacred time; a time that will not be dominated by someone else dialing your phone number, a time that will not succumb to the internet’s impossible demands for immediacy. It is a time that is wholly yours, a holy time to focus your energy and attention inward, toward your community, your family and ultimately into your very soul.
Perhaps no Jewish thinker understood this concept of sacred time more than Rabbi Abraham Joshua Hecshel. In Heschel’s masterpiece “The Sabbath” he implores us to “set apart one day a week for freedom…a day for being with ourselves…a day of independence from external obligations, a day on which we stop worshipping the idols of technical civilization, a day on which we use no money, a day of armistice in the economic struggle with our fellow men and the forces of nature.”
In this harried world of ours, in which our humanity has become increasingly tied to our machinery, we must ask ourselves, is this how my life is supposed to be? Or as Heschel pondered, “is there any institution that holds out a greater hope for the progress of the human race than the Sabbath?”
I certainly don’t think there is.
And so, once a week, for 25 hours I choose to unplug from this global world. I break my addiction to the allure of immediacy in favor of the reward of proximity. I choose to truly be present with those around me; to take a walk with my wife and daughters, to savor the touch and smell of a book, and to share sacred meals with friends.
In short, in place of a game called ‘Words with Friends’, I choose instead to share some meaningful words with friends. In so doing I make my own sacred time within the palace of God’s most holy time, for “God blessed the seventh day and made it holy.”
I believe that Shabbat is the logical and necessary answer to our culture of globalization. The observance of Shabbat forces us to localize our focus for one day each week upon our home, our family and our community.
Imagine the impact Shabbat could have upon yourself and your household if everyone paused each week to connect with each other; not across the world, but across the dinner table. Imagine if once a week your children concentrated with wondrous intensity as they played a game, not on their computer, but on your living room floor. Imagine if for one day each week we made it our concern to check-in with our family and the friends and neighbors who make up wonderful spiritual communities.
Thinking locally for one day can really make a world of difference.
