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In 2015, while traveling to Israel with dozens of young tech professionals, Meghan Holzhauer fell in love.
“No matter who you are or what you believe, there’s no denying the holiness of this place,” she said. “I had the great honor of spending a magical Shabbat at Jerusalem’s Western Wall with 80 of the most incredible, inspiring people I’ve encountered in this life. Dancing, singing, embracing and feeling immense love. This memory will stay with me forever and I am forever changed.”1
A year later, Holzhauer returned to Israel, solidifying what she affectionately called her “Jew-ish status” with a full moon Shabbat seder on the shores of Tel Aviv: “the richest of storytelling and friend-family love in celebration of freedom and miracles.”
In March 2017, she led a trip to Mexico City with 40 young professionals, where they enjoyed a multicultural Shabbat dinner. Shortly afterward, she organized a hip-hop-themed Shabbat for 400 people attending a social justice conference in Atlanta.
“A lot of Jewish rituals are about honoring friends and family,” said Holzhauer. “You feel part of something bigger.”
Here’s the catch: Holzhauer is not Jewish. Raised “Christian-light” by non-practicing parents, she has no plans to convert. But she sees nothing odd about finding meaning in Shabbat — much as millions of non-Buddhists embrace yoga or meditation.
“It’s the latest way that ancient traditions are meeting modern life,” she explained.
Daniel Ben-Tzi, founder of Los Angeles Mediation Awareness Week, sees the same potential: “Judaism’s ancient treasure of Shabbat can be mined just as Hindu and Buddhist treasures have gifted the West yoga, meditation, and mindfulness.”
The parallels are striking. You don’t need to believe in karma to benefit from yoga. You don’t need to subscribe to Buddhist doctrine to find peace in meditation. And you don’t need to be Jewish to discover the power of Shabbat.
Rabbi Myriam Klotz, a senior director at the Institute for Jewish Spirituality, calls Shabbat “a deeply renewing yoga posture … one that helps us open to the love that lies deep inside us.”
The data backs this up. Surveys in Israel show the happiest segment of the Jewish population is the devoutly Shabbat-observant ultra-Orthodox. And Israel itself, the Jewish state, consistently ranks among the happiest nations in the world.
So here’s a question worth asking: If more people, Jews and non-Jews alike, reclaimed a practice of Shabbat, would our lives, and perhaps even our world, become healthier, calmer, and more whole?
“More than the Jews have kept Shabbat, Shabbat has kept the Jews.”
— Ahad Ha’am, Hebrew journalist and essayist
For thousands of years, from sundown Friday to sundown Saturday, Jews have embraced Shabbat as a sacred pause: a time to step back from the noise and remember what matters most.
“Rest,” explains Daniel Ben-Tzi, “has an expansive definition in Judaism — focusing on nature and what humanity has not created. It involves refraining from actions that override nature. Lighting a fire, for instance, has traditionally been avoided on Shabbat because it’s humanity’s creation of light.”
The Torah itself gives surprisingly few specifics. Apart from the repeated command to “do no work,” there are only a handful of prohibitions, like kindling fire, gathering wood, or plowing. Over centuries, rabbinic interpretation layered those sparse instructions into the rich tapestry of rituals we know today: candles, challah, wine, song, prayer, and study — a weekly oasis in time.
Legends stretch back even further. Nearly 40 centuries ago, Abraham and Sarah are said to have carried their radical monotheistic message across a pagan world, teaching that one God created heaven and earth. In Sarah’s tent, tradition says, a lamp lit in honor of Shabbat burned miraculously from one Friday evening to the next, signaling the Divine Presence that dwelled within.
That light dimmed when Sarah died, only to return when Rebecca — her future daughter-in-law — entered the tent. Through centuries of upheaval, that flame of Shabbat has continued to flicker.
Moses, according to Midrash2, was the first to institutionalize a weekly day of rest for the Hebrew slaves in Egypt — persuading Pharaoh to grant them a pause lest they die from exhaustion. Later, after the Exodus, God gave the people manna3 six days a week, with a double portion on Friday so they could rest on Shabbat. To this day, the double loaves of challah on every Shabbat table commemorate that gift.
At Sinai, Shabbat became enshrined in the Ten Commandments: “Remember the Shabbat day to sanctify it … for in six days God made heaven and earth … and He rested on the seventh day.”
From the desert Tabernacle to the great Temple in Jerusalem, from the synagogues of Europe to the kitchens of Brooklyn and Beersheba, that rhythm — six days of work, one day of rest — has kept the Jewish People grounded and connected, even through exile and loss.
History is full of moments when Shabbat nearly slipped away — and when Jews fought fiercely to keep it.
Under the Syrian-Greek occupation of the second century BCE, observance was outlawed; many fled to caves to keep it secretly. Their eventual revolt, commemorated by Chanukah, wasn’t just about national freedom; it was about the right to rest.
Centuries later, after the destruction of the Temple in 70 CE, rabbinic Judaism flourished by reimagining Shabbat for a world without a central sanctuary. The sages added rituals like kiddush over wine, table songs, and a weekly Torah reading cycle that continues today, helping Jews “live with the times” — drawing lessons for modern life from ancient texts.
When Jews immigrated to America in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, they faced a painful choice. Shabbat was a workday, and Sunday was mandated by “blue laws” (statutes or ordinances that restrict or ban certain commercial and entertainment activities on Sundays, originally for religious reasons to enforce the Christian Sabbath). Many sacrificed observance to survive or to assimilate. But others fought back: organizing labor movements, lobbying for the five-day workweek, and forming Shabbat clubs to preserve the tradition.
By 1948, when Israel became a modern state, Shabbat was enshrined in law as the official day of rest.
Shabbat isn’t just for people; it’s for the land, too. In the Torah, alongside the commandment to rest on the seventh day, there is another sacred rhythm: the Shmita year, a sabbatical for the land observed every seventh year in the Land of Israel.
During Shmita, fields are left fallow, debts are forgiven, and the usual cycles of commerce and production pause. Farmers don’t plow or plant. Instead, the land is allowed to rest, and whatever grows naturally is made available to everyone — rich and poor alike.
The idea is radical even today: a society that intentionally disrupts its own economy to prioritize justice, equality, and renewal. In ancient Israel, Shmita reset the system — preventing wealth from concentrating in too few hands and reminding everyone that the land ultimately belongs to God, not to us.
Modern Israel still observes Shmita in different ways, blending ancient principles with modern realities. Many farms pause production in their fields, while others use rabbinically approved workarounds, like growing vegetation on raised platforms, but the spiritual heartbeat of Shmita remains the same.
“A world without a Sabbath,” wrote preacher Henry Ward Beecher, “would be like a man without a smile, like a summer without flowers, and like a homestead without a garden. It is the most joyous day of the week.”
Science increasingly confirms what tradition has long taught: Stepping away one day a week is good for your body, your mind, and your soul.
Mental Health: Duke University researchers found that people who practiced Shabbat even a few days a month reported higher levels of spiritual well-being, better mental health, and dramatically lower rates of anxiety and burnout.
Focus and Productivity: Studies show that simply having your phone nearby can reduce cognitive performance by up to 26 percent. Turning it off — as Shabbat encourages — sharpens focus and deepens conversations.
Creativity and Problem-Solving: Downtime activates the brain’s “default mode network,” the system that sparks insight. It’s why so many people get their best ideas in the shower, on a walk, or during moments of rest.
Relationships: Digital detoxes improve face-to-face communication, intimacy, and empathy. Families that unplug together report feeling closer and more connected.
Physical Health: Time in nature — a common Shabbat practice — reduces blood pressure and stress hormones, boosts immune function, and promotes calm.
In the words of Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel: “Six days a week we seek to dominate the world; on the seventh day, we try to dominate the self.”
For the traditionally observant, Shabbat begins with candle-lighting Friday evening and ends with Havdalah on Saturday night. Meals are shared, songs are sung, prayers are recited, and work — in all its forms — is set aside.
But you don’t need to be Orthodox, or even Jewish, to build a meaningful practice. Shabbat adapts.
Think of it as your personal weekly reset:
Set the boundary. Pick your window of time, and guard it fiercely.
Unplug. Put away your phone and laptop. Let yourself be truly present.
Make it sensory. Light a candle. Cook a meal. Play music. Invite people you love.
Go outside. Take a walk. Sit in a park. Watch the sunset.
Embrace quiet. Let your brain and soul breathe. Boredom is often where the breakthroughs happen.
Reflect. Journal. Pray. Read. Whatever opens you to gratitude and perspective.
Repeat. The magic compounds with time.
As Zack Bodner wrote in book, Why Do Jewish?: “In a world that doesn’t stop moving, Shabbat is our license to catch our breath.”
And yet, Shabbat is more than a ritual. It’s an act of resistance against the cult of busyness and the tyranny of “always on.” It’s a way of saying: My life is more than my output; my worth is not measured in productivity; my time belongs, at least for one day, to something deeper.
One of the biggest barriers to experiencing Shabbat is the fear that you have to “do it perfectly” — no phone, no driving, no lights, no cooking, no exceptions. But the truth is, Shabbat doesn’t have to be all or nothing.
For thousands of years, Jews have embraced Shabbat in ways that fit their lives, their families, and their communities. What matters most is the intention: carving out sacred time, whatever that looks like for you.
Maybe your first step is turning your phone off for a few hours on Friday night. Maybe it’s sharing a meal with family or friends. Maybe it’s simply lighting a candle, taking a deep breath, and marking the start of something different.
Over time, you can add more layers — a walk in nature, a family blessing, even attending a service or study group — but you don’t have to do everything all at once to experience the beauty and power of Shabbat.
Think of it as building blocks, not a checklist. Every step, no matter how small, is a victory in reclaiming your time and reconnecting to what matters most.
Because Shabbat isn’t about perfection. It’s about presence.
Meghan Holzhauer on Instagram
A rabbinic method of biblical interpretation
Manna was a food substance described in the Old Testament of the Bible as being miraculously provided by God to the Israelites in the wilderness, resembling small, white flakes that tasted like flour mixed with honey.
This essay, Joshua, is so thoughtful and meaningful about Shabbat. It's a lovely feeling when Friday arrives and our candles are lit. We await services, and after, spend some quiet time reading and talking about what we've read. Shabbat has been more meaningful for us in our present world, which tends to turn everything upside down. It gives us time to think about the people and times in our life that continue to be so important to us. Without Shabbat, Friday would be just another day, and thankfully, it remains our joyful day of the week.
I ❤️ Israel forever!