Imagine a hotel in Jerusalem filled with hundreds of Israelis preparing to observe Shabbat together for the first time in their lives. That was the scene at a recent gathering organized by Kesher Yehudi, a social movement that brings Jews from secular and religious backgrounds together. Within 48 hours, 250 secular Israelis signed up, and the organizers said that if space had allowed, they would have had a thousand participants. None of these people had ever kept Shabbat before.
For many participants, the Shabbat experience came as a shock. On Friday night, after lighting the Shabbat candles, Osnat from Tel Aviv admitted that she panicked several times, thinking she had lost her cell phone—only to remember it was safely in her room. On Shabbat, Jews refrain from using phones, computers, or any electronic devices. For Osnat, this was the first time in her life she had completely separated from her phone for an extended period. By Saturday morning, she described waking with a deep, calm breath of gratitude. She felt a peace she had never experienced before, free from notifications, messages, and the constant motion of daily life.
Rabbi Yisrael Goldwasser, one of the organizers of the Shabbat, said that stepping away from constant doing created space for clarity, reflection, and presence. It allowed people to experience life differently, to notice their own hearts and the world around them in a way they could not during the week.
The emotional intensity among participants was palpable. Some made monumental personal changes, like the Israeli man living abroad who decided to return to Israel after years of feeling alienated from God and his people. Others made less perceptible changes, finding small ways to bring Shabbat into their lives. The shared feeling was a deep yearning—a hunger for something beyond daily survival and relentless motion.
Why are so many Israelis suddenly drawn to Shabbat, even those who have never observed it before?
Erich Fromm, the German-born psychologist and author of the classic book The Art of Loving, argues that modern society often confuses constant busyness with true vitality. Most people think they are “active” when they are working, producing, achieving, or striving toward some goal. But Fromm observed that much of this activity is actually a form of passivity.
If a person works nonstop because of fear, loneliness, ambition, or greed, they are not acting freely. Their actions are dictated by inner pressures and desires. They might feel very busy, yet their soul remains constrained. True activity, Fromm argued, does not depend on external accomplishments. It is the inner work of the soul: reflection, contemplation, presence, and acting from a place of freedom rather than compulsion. This kind of activity may appear “passive” to outsiders, but it is in fact the most demanding and authentic way to live.
For Israelis, this distinction has become clear over the past two years. The nation has been consumed by a grueling war that demands constant activity. Soldiers and reservists spent countless days in combat, while families on the home front are working tirelessly to support them. Communities are immersed in “doing” – protecting, cooking, organizing, repairing, alerting, and defending.
In other words, Israelis are incredibly busy with the “what” of Jewish survival—with the enormous number of tasks that must be done to protect our nation, care for struggling families, and maintain society under pressure. Yet this unrelenting focus on the “what” is awakening a deep yearning for the “why.” Why does the world hate us? What are they jealous of? How is Israel unique? People are searching for meaning, for perspective, for the meaning behind it all. Exhausted by the war, Israelis are not just seeking rest. They feel a deep need to step back, to be present, to breathe and reflect.
Shabbat answers that longing. The Bible commands:
Shabbat is not merely a day off. It is a day that redirects human activity inward. Six days are devoted to external labor; the seventh invites reflection, connection, and the exercise of freedom of the soul. Energy that is normally spent on survival, work, and achievement is channeled into reflection, awareness, gratitude and presence.
During the Kesher Yehudi Shabbat, participants felt this shift. They experienced calm, focus, and the quiet joy of acting freely rather than being compelled by circumstance. They began to understand, for the first time, what it means to use time intentionally and to step back from constant motion.
Charlie Kirk grasped this principle in his own way as a Christian. Guided by his Jewish mentor Dennis Prager, he began to honor Shabbat, stepping away from phones, screens, and constant doing. In those hours, he discovered clarity, strength, and a rare kind of peace. Before he was murdered, he completed Stop, in the Name of God: Why Honoring the Sabbath Will Transform Your Life, showing that the power of Shabbat is not reserved for Jews alone. It is a framework for anyone seeking freedom from the relentless pace of modern life.
After I met Charlie at a Shabbat meal in Phoenix a few years ago, I felt compelled to write a book, from a Jewish perspective, to help my Christian friends tap into the power of this holy day. Shabbat Revolution: A Practical Guide to Weekly Renewal shows how one day a week, devoted to God, reflection, and conscious inner activity, can restore the soul, strengthen family bonds, and give people the clarity and courage to face a chaotic world.
Shabbat has a power that goes beyond routine or ritual. It lets Israelis—and all of us—step away from the endless “what” of survival and action, and return to the “why” that gives life meaning. It restores the soul, sharpens clarity, strengthens families, and gives courage to face the world. For Israelis, for Christians, for Jews, for anyone seeking meaning beyond survival, Shabbat is not a pause. It is life itself.