Digital Shabbat
Ritualizing Disconnection
I believe this is a topic that concerns us all: digital overconsumption is now firmly entrenched in our lives. At first, we rushed into this new world with enthusiasm. Two decades later, it’s a bit of a wake-up call. Who doesn’t feel today that they are being robbed of themselves by screens that colonize our beings a little more each day? So everyone comes up with their own little solution—banning smartphones from certain areas of the house, using apps that limit screen time, or, for the more radical, leaving social media altogether. All of this is very well, but these are still individual and marginal solutions. What if we tried something collectively?
Here, I want to tell you about something that happened about ten years ago in the life of Cabane Colchik. First of all, I should point out that we are not Jewish in the slightest; this idea came to me from the depths of Christianity and that corner of the ancient East that I love so much—did you know that in Greek, Saturday is always called Σάββατο, which shows the strong link between Judaism and Hellenism? I should also tell you that during a stay in Israel, I was struck by the power of Shabbat: every Friday, at nightfall, the country shuts down and something very special fills the air, something that has nothing to do with the boredom of our Sundays, something profound, archaic, and sacred.
Anyway. One day, in 2014, I felt that screens were taking up too much space (already!) in our lives and that they were going to erode the tranquility of our souls. I told myself that we needed a regular break from this, and I thought of a kind of digital Shabbat—because that’s what Shabbat is all about: taking a break, recharging your batteries, restoring yourself. To my great surprise, after doing a little research, I discovered that the concept already existed! We talked about it at home and very quickly decided to turn off our screens on Friday evenings for 24 hours and accompany this with a big Mediterranean meal, which fitted in well with our family roots. That’s how we’ve been “observing Shabbat” at Cabane Colchik for over ten years.
It quickly became an intangible tradition, and for a long time now, it would be impossible for us to eat pasta or watch a movie on Friday evenings; it would feel like we were breaking something precious. This weekly break has become one of the cornerstones of our family: a few days beforehand, we start discussing the menu, then we all cook together, set a beautiful table, and are completely present. Everything slows down, and we read aloud to each other to pass the evening. Saturday is a special day. We try not to turn on any screens until nightfall, which makes the day simpler, calmer, and more meaningful. Now, I’m not saying we always succeed, but the intention is always there.
Today, I am infinitely grateful that this idea came to us before the great digitization of our lives. In a world subject to frenzy and information flow of all kinds, it seems vital to me to preserve a space for disconnection, and ritualizing this space is the best way to make it last. Sometimes I dream of getting other people to join in this practice. Imagine: one day a week, we would put down our phones, we would make eye contact again on the street, children would play and make noise, we would talk to each other, we would step out of our closed worlds, we would take the time to look, to touch, to think, to live. It could be huge, like a great awakening of the world.
But I’m not sure how to make it happen, it’s so far beyond my strength and means. We would also need to give this special day a name, so that we could wish our neighbors a “happy disconnection.”
I wish you a wonderful week, Laura
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