Shabbes is Punk
“More than the Jews have kept Shabbat, Shabbat has kept the Jews,” turn-of-the-twentieth century cultural Zionist Ahad Ha’am famously maintained.
Shabbat observance can be construed as transgressive in its circumscription of modern technology, whatever “modern technology” entailed in whatever century the Jews happened to find themselves. Keeping Shabbat can be onerous, yes; but perhaps therein lies its power, and its means of keeping us. Because it can be beneficial to eschew technological norms once a week, difficult as it may seem.
Perhaps the most obvious of Shabbat’s benefits is the digital detox. In The Anxious Generation, philosopher Jonathan Haidt claims that the constant exposure to social media that smartphones enable is causing an epidemic of anxiety and depression among kids and teens. In The Siren’s Call, Chris Hayes describes how the nefarious non-stop buzzing in our pockets steals our attention and how empty it feels after looking up from following algorithm-driven links to realize that hours have meaninglessly slid by.
Putting aside our phones allows us to focus on who or what is in front of us, instead of whoever or whatever is pinging us from afar. It allows us to wonder–Who wrote that song? What was that movie called?–instead of instantly googling every trivial query. It allows us to pine for things and think about if we actually need them instead of ordering whatever will instantly satisfy every passing whim that pops into our heads. Yet unplugging may feel impossible–without the imperative of a vengeful deity or the mores of your tribe. And that tribe is vital. Firstly, because if your friends put their phones down for Shabbat too, you’re not missing out on any of their funny texts or plans they’re making. But more importantly because observing shabbat is not something you can do alone.
A couple years ago the U.S. surgeon general declared that we were suffering through a “loneliness epidemic.” When polled about what its causes might be, most Americans cited too much time spent with technology or working and not enough time with family or in spiritual/religious pursuits. In a chicken-and-egg dynamic, so many people now exclusively eat alone that new houses are being built without dining rooms–so most people will have no choice but to continue to eat alone.
The centerpiece of Shabbat is sharing meals with others. Three meals are mandated, so much of Shabbat is spent around a table with other people: breaking bread together, sitting together, drinking together, debating together, studying together, singing together. All the work has been done, and there is no place else to be.
Lastly, and because it is a communal affair, Shabbat can foster kids’ independence. If kids don’t have their phones, their parents can’t track them. They can be free range, granted the independence, unstructured time, and in-person connections with neighborhood friends that they are so often denied during the week.
When my kids were in middle and high school, I often didn’t know where they were on Shabbat afternoons. They were at Sam’s, or Caleb’s, or Sonia’s, or Isabel’s, or possibly Nathan’s or David’s–but they didn’t usually go there because they were kind of far, but they did have good toys. And I didn’t know what they were doing; probably playing basketball or Settlers of Catan. But I did know they’d be home by dark.
What’s punk about all that? If the punk ethos is characterized by rejecting mainstream values, then pretty much everything. Shabbat is a collective refusal to settle for business as usual, a weekly acknowledgement that we can–nay, we must–take a break from this world and spend our day imagining a better one.
A stray comment from a non-Jewish acquaintance recently highlighted what a radical practice this is. He noted “that must be hard because no one thinks that way anymore.” Whereas once everyone had a sabbath observance, and ours was just on a different day, now the notion of stepping out of the world and letting it spin around you is almost unimaginable. But it is invaluable.
Of course there are costs. Forgoing electronics and money all day can obviously be quite restrictive (and boring). Not driving (or riding in a vehicle) means you miss stuff that’s not within walking distance; sometimes really important stuff, like family events. And all of the meal prep that must get done in advance often falls on women, as so much domestic work still does. Regardless of who it falls on, it can make busy weeks that much busier. Like all valuable things in life, keeping Shabbat can be difficult. And like all valuable things in life, you get out of it what you put into it. But you can start gradually, adding in practices that work for you as the weeks pass.
In his 1951 book The Sabbath, perhaps the most eloquent and moving description of the phenomenon in English, Abraham Joshua Heschel talks about civilization as concerned with conquering space and the ephemeral things within it, versus Shabbat as a palace in time, set aside for us to celebrate and sanctify the eternal. He calls it “the melody sustained throughout all agitations and vicissitudes which menace our conscience.”
I can’t imagine anything more punk.
