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
Subscribe here: https://substack.com/@lalettredelacabane
You know that feeling, right? Like you're constantly swimming, maybe even drowning, in this giant ocean of digital noise, and it's just so hard to come up for air. It's not just a buzzword. It's our reality. Well, today, I want to tell you a story. It's a personal one, about how my family and I found a little lifeboat in that ocean, and the big idea that grew out of it. I mean, this question. Who doesn't feel this way sometimes? It's that little nagging feeling that our screens are kind of taking over, you know? Colonizing our minds, our time, our moments. I think we all feel it. This sense that we're a little less us every single day. Think back to the early days of the Internet. Oh, man, we dove in head first, didn't we?
It was this amazing digital wonderland, and it felt like anything was possible. But now, 20-some years later, well, the thrill is kind of gone. For a lot of us, it feels like we've woken up with a massive digital hangover. So, what do we do about it? We all try to cope in our own ways. We've all got our little personal strategies, our tricks, to try and claw back some mental space from that constant buzzing noise. And hey, these are all good efforts. Things like banning phones from the bedroom, using those apps that track our screen time, or even doing something as radical as quitting social media. They're all good things, but they feel so small, like trying to bail out the ocean with a teaspoon. They're individual solutions for what feels like a huge collective problem.
So that got me thinking, what if we needed a collective solution? For me, the spark of an idea came about 10 years ago, and it came from a really ancient tradition. Now, I want to be clear, my family isn't Jewish, but the wisdom in this practice, wow, it just resonated with me on a really deep human level. And check this out. This is so cool. Did you know that in Greek, the word for Saturday is sabato? It comes directly from the Hebrew word Shabbat. It's like this little fossil hidden in the language, a beautiful echo of this powerful, shared idea, setting aside a day for rest. I'll never forget being in Israel and just feeling the power of Shabbat. Every Friday at dusk, it's like the whole country just takes a deep breath and powers down. And the feeling in the air, it has nothing to do with that bored, what now feeling of our Sundays.
No, this felt profound, ancient, even sacred. That experience really stuck with me. It put a name to something I'd already been feeling back in 2014. This sense that our screens were just creeping into every little quiet corner of our lives, slowly chipping away at our peace. So when you get right down to it, the word Shabbat simply means to take a break, to pause, to recharge, to restore yourself. And I just thought, yes, that is exactly what we need. What if we had our own kind of digital Shabbat? And you know what? I wasn't the first person to have the idea. The concept was out there. So I brought it home to my family and the idea immediately clicked. And just like that, something we started as a little experiment in 2014 has become this amazing family tradition for over a decade now.
Our rule is incredibly simple. On Friday evening, every single screen gets turned off for a full 24 hours. And to kick it all off, we always cook a big Mediterranean meal together. It just feels like us, you know? And pretty quickly, this simple rule blossomed into something so much more than just a habit. It's become this precious ritual for us, a real foundation for our family life. Today, the thought of just ordering a pizza and zoning out in front of a movie on a Friday night, it's just unthinkable. This ritual is so woven into who we are that to break it would feel like shattering something really, really valuable. And the beauty of it is how simple it is. The ritual starts days before, just by talking about what we're going to cook.
Then we cook together, we set a beautiful table, and for a few hours, we are completely, 100% present with each other. Everything just slows down. And to fill the quiet, we read to each other, out loud. And that feeling, it just spills over into the next day. The Saturday that follows is always special. We try not to turn our screens back on until after dark. And it makes the whole day feel simpler, calmer, and somehow fuller, richer. Now, I'm not going to pretend we're perfect at it every single time. But the intention, that's what's always there. I am so, so grateful this idea came to us before this digital wave completely took over our lives. And it makes me dream of something even bigger. In this frantic world we live in, what if we could all protect a little space for ourselves? A space for disconnection?
So that's the real question I want to ask. What if, together, we all tried something like this, on a much bigger scale? What could that even look like? Just imagine it for a second. One day a week, we all just put down our phones. Imagine looking up and actually meeting people's eyes on the street again. Imagine hearing kids playing outside. We'd talk to each other, you know? We'd step out of our little private worlds, and we would just take the time to look. To touch. To think. To actually live. The potential just feels so profound. This wouldn't be some small tweak. It could be immense. It could be like a great awakening for the whole world. A chance for us all to reconnect with ourselves and with each other.
Of course, this is just a dream. And it feels way bigger than just me. But every big idea has to start somewhere, right? It starts with a conversation. And if we did this, we'd need to give this special day a name. Something we could wish each other as we all disconnect. So, what would you call it?
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