Unplugging on Shabbat

I sign off from the internet for 25 hours every week.

Tablet Magazine's profile of Seth Barrett Tillman provided a peek inside our working relationship. Due to the six-hour time difference between Houston and Dublin, we often have to chat at unusual times. Our sweet spot is around midnight Texas time, before I go to sleep, and early morning Ireland time, when Seth wakes up. During that window, there are few work or personal interruptions, and we can chat–as we often do–for lengthy periods about arcane legal questions that suddenly become timely.

Another timing quirk of our collaboration is the Sabbath. Seth and I are out of contact every week from when Shabbat begins in Dublin (around Sundown on Friday) to when Shabbat ends in Houston (about an hour after sundown on Saturday). During the winter, Shabbat begins as early as 4:00 p.m. in Ireland, so our communications cease on Friday morning around 8:00 a.m. Central Time. And quite often, big things tend to happen in the courts on Friday afternoons. We've had many briefs due on Fridays, so we have to file a day early on Thursday. (Somewhat related, we have had many briefs due on Jewish holidays; we also had to file early). Most recently, the Denver trial court ruled that President Trump was not an "Officer of the United States" on Friday after 5 p.m. local time. Seth remained unaware of that news till Saturday evening his time. Thankfully, I was in California that day, and was able to digest the opinion, and quickly blog about it, before I too had to sign off.

Tablet reported, "Blackman doesn't check or send email on Shabbat, meaning there is a 30-hour period each week when the two cannot be in communication." This is a new practice for me, and I wanted to write about it here.

This past Yom Kippur, in September, I made a promise to myself stop using the Internet on Shabbat. In recent years, I had stopped using my phone on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, and so decided to expand the practice. In candor, I still do all sorts of otherwise prohibited activity. I'll drive, write, and use my computer without WiFi. I also leave my phone on, but only with voice calls and text messages–no data. Still, this is a massive shift in my approach to the world. For approximately twenty-five hours every week, I am off the grid. I do not check emails. I do not read news. I do not go online. I do not check social media. Nothing.

From a religious perspective, I am trying to become more observant, and am proud that I have stuck with it this long. But from a social perspective, this is one of the best self-improvements I've made in some time. Rabbi Meir Soloveichik analogized Shabbat to unplugging from The Matrix. He wrote, "You can find hints of an unplugged 'Zion' in the Sabbath tables of observant Jews, where electronic devices are forbidden."

For a full day, I can completely disconnect from the world around me. No one can bother me. No one can disturb my peace. No one can impose some new deadline on me. No one can call me an Illuminati Priest. The only people I interact with are those I choose to be with. My phone stays in my pocket for emergencies, and seldom comes out. I will use my computer to read documents I've downloaded in advance, or prepare for class, but I do not acquire any new information from the internet. When Saturday evening arrives, I feel refreshed in ways I did not anticipate. Now, once the sabbath ends, I have to go through my emails and missed stories. That process takes about two hours. But I would much rather have that compressed two-hour window late Saturday night, in order to have the prior 25-hours free.

There are, admittedly, drawbacks. For a full day, I am completely ignorant of breaking news. Indeed, I do not watch TV or listen to news radio that could disturb my splendid isolation. But I can miss stuff. Big stuff. October 7, if you'll recall, occurred during the Sabbath. I heard something about the attacks during the day, but didn't appreciate what was going on till I signed on that evening. While most of the world learned about the tragedies in real time, the news hit me all at once. Imagine reading about 9/11 for the first time after both towers had fallen. There have been some other less-significant news cycles that I've missed. So be it. A small price to pay for the serenity.

Also, as I noted above, I still travel and do other things on Shabbat. As a result, I've attended many conferences in person where I cannot correspond by email or check the internet. It creates some logistical difficulties, but I can work around it. I actually print out boarding passes at the airport. I download Google Maps offline so I have a functional GPS. I cannot call Ubers, so I've reverted to pre-2014 standards, and started calling taxis. It works well enough. One annoying quirk is that some restaurants at airports do not have paper menus and only take mobile orders. I found that most wait staff will help you out if you ask. (They do look kind of shocked when you say you do not have a smart phone.) There are other quirks, but again, all manageable.

I would encourage everyone, and not just Jews, to disconnect for a full day each week. You may think it is too hard, but you are just making excuses. If I can do it, anyone can. For much of my adult life, I was glued to my phone nearly every minute of the day. In recent years, I've made a significant effort to reduce how often I look at my phone. (The feature that tracks your usage is a helpful reminder of how pervasive phone addictions are.) I quit Facebook in 2016, and I quit Twitter in 2020. (I still tweet links to my articles, but do not read other tweets, and never check notifications.) At times, I consider getting rid of my smart phone altogether and reverting to a flip phone. I don't know if I am quite there yet, but it is on my mind.

I hope this post was a helpful respite from the regular programming.