Every Friday evening, filmmaker Tiffany Shlain does something radical in our always-on culture: she and her family turn off all their screens. For the next 24 hours, from sundown Friday to sundown Saturday, the founder of the Webby Awards – who has spent decades celebrating digital innovation – goes completely offline. “We’ve been doing it for a decade now, and it’s just been the best thing I’ve ever done in my life,” she told Religion News Service.
Shlain isn’t alone. Across America, a growing number of people are rediscovering an ancient practice that even the late conservative activist Charlie Kirk had begun advocating before his recent death: the weekly observance of Sabbath. Kirk, who was recently killed, was scheduled to publish a book this December titled Stop, in the Name of God: Why Honoring the Sabbath Will Change Your Life, and had been keeping what he called a “Jewish Sabbath” since 2021, turning off his phone from Friday night to Saturday night, unreachable by the world.
In our hyper-connected age, where 30% of Americans report feeling lonely at least weekly and screen time averages over 7 hours daily, this ancient practice offers something revolutionary: a weekly reset that rebuilds both individual well-being and community bonds.
The Sacred Art of Stopping
The word Sabbath comes from the Hebrew shavat, meaning “to cease.” But cessation isn’t the goal; transformation is. As someone raised in an observant Jewish household nestled within a generally open and secular community, I initially experienced Sabbath as restriction and frustration: no driving, no electricity, no phones. While friends enjoyed Friday night parties or weekend sports, I was home or in synagogue, occasionally feeling completely at peace and connecting with faith and my religious community, but also regularly feeling disconnected from and missing out on life happening and being prevented from being more “normal” in the broader world.
At that point decades ago, I didn’t understand that Sabbath isn’t about what you can’t do, it is about what becomes possible when you stop.
As an adult, however, I have discovered that those 25 hours from Friday evening to Saturday night are the most cherished of my week. In a world of relentless notifications and performative social media, the Sabbath helps create a pause from a messy world and what sociologist Robert Putnam calls social capital: connections formed through bowling leagues, church suppers, and front porch conversations rather than LinkedIn networks and Instagram followers. There is time during the Sabbath for unmediated meals, unhurried conversations, and laughter that isn’t curated for public consumption.
Your Brain on Sabbath: What Neuroscience Reveals
When you unplug for 24 hours, your brain undergoes measurable changes. The Default Mode Network – a brain system active during rest, daydreaming, and self-reflection – becomes more engaged when we’re not focused on external tasks. This network, which includes regions like the medial prefrontal cortex and posterior cingulate cortex, plays a crucial role in memory consolidation, self-reflection, and what researchers call “internal mentation.”
Research shows concerning effects of excessive screen time on brain structure. Multiple studies have shown gray matter atrophy (shrinkage or loss of tissue volume) in areas crucial for executive functions like planning, organizing, and impulse control among those with internet/gaming addiction. Even in young children aged 3-5, higher screen usage has been linked to differences in cortical thickness and brain structure.
The “mere presence” effect is also significant, though research is mixed. Studies have found that simply having your smartphone visible can impact cognitive performance, particularly for those with high smartphone dependence. While recent meta-analyses show the effect is smaller than initially reported and primarily impacts working memory rather than all cognitive functions, the principle remains: our devices consume mental bandwidth even when we’re not actively using them.
Sabbath removes these distractions entirely, freeing that mental bandwidth for deeper thought and genuine connection.
Ancient Wisdom for Modern Ailments
The practice of Shabbat rests on profound biblical foundations. Exodus 20:8-11 commands: “Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy. Six days shalt thou labour, and do all thy work: but the seventh day is the sabbath of the LORD thy God: in it thou shalt not do any work, thou, nor thy son, nor thy daughter, thy manservant, nor thy maidservant, nor thy cattle, nor thy stranger that is within thy gates.” Remarkably, this includes everyone: servants, strangers, even animals. In ancient times, when humans were valued mainly for their labor, Sabbath proclaimed universal dignity: everyone deserves rest.
The prophet Isaiah called Sabbath “a delight,” while rabbinic tradition describes it as a “taste of the world to come,” a weekly glimpse of how life could be. Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel famously described the Sabbath as a “palace in time” and wrote that “Jewish ritual may be characterized as the art of significant forms in time, as architecture of time.” In his seminal work The Sabbath: Its Meaning for Modern Man, Heschel wrote: “There is a realm of time where the goal is not to have but to be, not to own but to give, not to control but to share, not to subdue but to be in accord. Life goes wrong when the control of space, the acquisition of things of space, becomes our sole concern.”
Medieval Jewish philosophy teaches that hosting others on Sabbath isn’t mere kindness but religious obligation. This insight proves prescient: true rest cannot be achieved in isolation. Sabbath is inherently communal, designed to foster shared belonging and mutual care.
The Science of Sacred Rest
Modern research validates ancient wisdom. Émile Durkheim, the foundational sociologist of religion, argued in The Elementary Forms of Religious Life that rituals create social cohesion by providing shared meaning that strengthens collective bonds. Decades of social science research, including work by researchers at the American Enterprise Institute, confirms that structured, recurring gatherings – whether religious services, civic clubs, or volunteer organizations – predict higher levels of trust, cooperation, and community engagement.
These institutions function as what Ray Oldenburg famously called “third places”: spaces outside home and work where people encounter one another as equals. Libraries, parks, diners, and barbershops can serve this role, but so can a Sabbath table filled with neighbors.
The need is urgent. Trust in American institutions has collapsed, young adults report unprecedented levels of anxiety and depression, and social isolation has become a public health crisis. In this environment, practices that rebuild community aren’t luxuries; they’re necessities.
Sabbath in Practice: Beyond Religion
The beauty of Sabbath principles lies in their adaptability. You don’t need to be Jewish, or even religious, to benefit from weekly rhythms of rest and connection.
Tiffany Shlain started her family’s “Tech Shabbat” practice after a profound life moment: “I went through a one-month period where I lost my father and our younger daughter was born within the same couple of weeks,” she recalls. “It was one of those life moments where life was grabbing me by the lapels and saying, ‘What’s important?’” At the time, she felt like “an emotional pinball machine – responding to every buzz and notification, responding to everyone except the people I love who were right in front of me.”
Now, her family gathers for Friday dinner with friends, then spends Saturday screen-free: “We’re laughing, we’re cooking, we’re around the table and there’s not a screen in sight. Everyone’s present in a very different way when there are no screens anywhere.”
The result? “We sleep more deeply on Friday nights than any other night of the week. During the day, my husband and I do a lot of journaling and writing. We’ll make art, we’ll go biking, we’ll take naps, we’ll laugh a lot more,” she told Religion News Service.
In 2001, students at Seattle Pacific University took a week-long “Technology Sabbath” and discovered they talked more in person rather than relying on frequent emails, played dodgeball instead of video games, and created deeper connections through face-to-face conversation about everything from personal relationships to spiritual ideas. Twenty years later, that experiment seems prophetic. Gen Z, the most connected generation, reports the highest rates of loneliness in history, with 79% saying they feel alone.
The benefits extend beyond individual families. Research consistently shows that employees who take regular breaks from connectivity report higher job satisfaction and, paradoxically, greater productivity. When people regularly disconnect from the urgent, they become more effective at the important.
It’s Working in Corporate America
Boston Consulting Group’s “Predictable Time Off” experiment required teams to ensure each consultant took at least one evening or day completely off each week. After four years of trials involving over 900 teams in 30 countries, participants reported significantly higher job satisfaction, better work-life balance, and increased likelihood to stay at the firm long-term. The experiment, which started with just one six-member team, eventually expanded to include more than 1,400 consultants globally. As Harvard Business School professor Leslie Perlow, who designed the study, explained: “It’s about learning to cover for each other. One person will be off today, another person will be off tomorrow … and I mean off – no smartphone, no computer for business purposes.”
Similarly, when Microsoft Japan tested a 4-day workweek in August 2019, productivity jumped 39.9% compared to the previous year. The company also saw electricity use drop 23% and paper printing fall 59%. The secret wasn’t working harder in four days – it was returning refreshed, creative, and focused. By capping meetings at 30 minutes and closing offices every Friday, Microsoft demonstrated that less time at work could actually mean more accomplished.
The Civic Case for Sabbath
Sabbath isn’t just personal wellness; it is civic infrastructure. Democracy requires citizens who can deliberate, compromise, and work together toward common goals. These skills develop through face-to-face interaction, active listening, and the patience to see beyond our immediate interests. They’re hard to cultivate when our primary social experiences happen through screens optimized for outrage and engagement.
By regularly gathering people in person, Sabbath builds what we might call the muscles of civic life. It reminds us that we’re more than avatars or political tribes; we are neighbors who share common hopes and concerns.
Economist Tyler Cowen argues in “The Complacent Class” that many of America’s problems stem from our risk-averse culture and inability to maintain long-term social commitments. Weekly Sabbath observance directly addresses this, creating recurring opportunities for relationship-building that transcend political and social divisions.
Practical Steps Forward
So what would widespread Sabbath adoption look like? It doesn’t require everyone to follow Orthodox Jewish law or embrace any particular theology. Instead, consider these principles:
Weekly rhythm: Choose a consistent 24-hour period for rest and connection – Friday evening to Saturday evening, Sunday morning to Monday morning, or any schedule that works.
Digital boundaries: Turn off phones, avoid email, skip social media. The world will survive without your immediate response.
Gather people: Share meals, take walks, play games, and have conversations. Prioritize in-person interaction over virtual connection.
Slow down: Resist the urge to be productive. Read, nap, reflect. Let yourself simply be rather than constantly do.
Welcome others: The most transformative Sabbaths include people beyond your immediate family – neighbors, friends, even strangers who become friends.
Emergency protocol: Worried about missing crises? Designate one family member as the “emergency keeper” with a basic phone for true urgencies.
Communities can support this through policy: quiet hours that limit noise pollution, restaurant and retail workers’ right to refuse Sunday shifts, and public spaces designed for gathering rather than consuming.
The Urgency of Rest
Critics might argue that Sabbath observance is a luxury for the privileged, and they’re partly right. Low-wage workers often lack control over their schedules, single parents face overwhelming demands, and many Americans work multiple jobs to survive. These realities require systemic solutions: living wages, affordable childcare, and healthcare that doesn’t bankrupt families.
But even imperfect Sabbath observance can provide benefits. An hour of phone-free family time, a monthly neighborhood potluck, or a commitment to one day each week without shopping. These small acts of resistance against our culture’s relentless pace can create space for what matters most.
A Weekly Revolution
That Charlie Kirk, a conservative Christian, and Tiffany Shlain, a progressive Jewish filmmaker, both champion the same practice reveals something profound: the hunger for authentic rest transcends all political and religious divisions. Whether motivated by faith, wellness, or simple exhaustion with digital overwhelm, Americans are rediscovering that we need practices that remind us who we are beyond our productivity.
Every week, Sabbath offers an opportunity to rest and return: to ourselves, to our relationships, to our deepest values. In our fragmented and frenetic age, that’s not just a personal blessing. It is a civic necessity.
Sabbath teaches that rest isn’t merely the absence of work; it’s the presence of something deeper. It’s the space in which we remember our shared humanity and recommit to the bonds that hold us together. In a democracy under strain, that weekly return might be exactly what we need to find our way forward, together.
The choice isn’t whether to rest, but whether we’ll reclaim it voluntarily or have it forced upon us by burnout. The Sabbath whispers what our bodies scream: stop. Just stop. And in that stopping, find what we’ve been racing past – ourselves, each other, and the sacred ordinary moments that make a life worth living.
