Gone are the Shabbat days of leaving cryptic bananagram-like messages on the kitchen table to let your family know that you went for a walk. Gone are the delayed Shabbos lunches spent waiting for guests to arrive, wondering if maybe they had gotten the date wrong. Gone are the Shabbos afternoons spent wondering if the walk to your friend’s house is actually worth it because maybe she won’t even be home. With a purchase of just eighteen dollars, you can download the Shabbos App, which permits you to send text messages on Shabbos without breaking any halakhot. The apps byline is nisht shver tzu zein a yid, a well known Yiddish phrase which means – it’s not difficult to be a Jew. Right?
Wrong. It can be difficult to be an observant Jew, to constantly be aware of whether what we are eating, wearing, saying, and doing is in line with halakha. To miss beloved sports games on Friday nights, to wait that extra hour before eating the delicious chocolate bar that can get you through midterms, and of course to not text on Shabbos. It’s so difficult, in fact, that recently there has been a steady increase in the percentage of Modern Orthodox teens who observe “Half Shabbos”, a phenomenon where Shabbos is kept, with the exception of texting. Yet, one of the central themes of Judaism is that the difficulty is directly proportionate to the reward (L’fum Tzara Agra). Just like working out that extra half hour at the gym breeds better results, living a halakhic life, despite the difficulties it imposes, has tremendous rewards and benefits.
Whether the Shabbos App is a farce, as some argue, or a real, working app, the very concept is entirely disturbing to me. The Shabbos App’s misuse of the Yiddish phrase to promote an app that makes “keeping Shabbos” easier is an offense to my ancestors, whose stories of determination and lives risked to observe Shabbos amidst the darkest moments of Jewish history, filled my childhood. For thousands of years, Shabbos has been the focal point of Jewish observation. At times it has been a toil; as Jews lost their jobs each week for refusing to work on Saturday, but mostly it has been a day of renewal, of celebrating and connecting with family and friends, a day of peace and reflection amidst a harried work week. The producers argue that the Shabbos App enhances Shabbos and makes it even more peaceful. That’s funny though, because last time I checked, the beeping of my phone certainly does not enhance my nap.
The Shabbos App supposedly avoids any halakhic problems, ingeniously maneuvering each prohibition to create the most seamless and halakhic texting experience. The prohibition of Uvden D’Chol, meaning an action that is done during the week, is solved as the app works only when the phone is turned upside down, and no one uses their phones upside down. The prohibition of Kotev, writing, is overridden as the app provides 120 fully formed words that can be combined to form sentences, without actually combining letters, which is the root of the prohibition. There’s even an option to add on 30 custom words, resulting in a grand total of 150 words you can choose from. (If you’re looking to build your vocabulary, better find another app, and maybe a cheaper one while you’re at it). The sound on the device is disabled when the app is turned on, but users can choose vibration mode. The screen brightness remains at a constant 1% so you never actually turn on the screen, however this does drain your battery, and probably overheat your phone. When the app is turned on, the phone will only allow the user access to the Shabbos App and e-books, although the creators claim that they are working on an upgraded version that will “enable more features in a permissible way.” It seems to me that these entirely creative, non-halakhic loopholes lack validity.
The Shabbos App’s promotional video explains that the app is designed to help ease parent’s peace as they wait up for their teenage children to return Friday night, or care for their elderly parents from afar. The app will give users the ability to “learn a Parsha vort” on the way to a tisch, to check what time mincha is, and to change meeting times with a chavrusa. Yet, elsewhere, one of the producers, Yossi Goldstein admits that the Shabbos App is an attempt to reclaim a generation of Orthodox Jewish teens who know that texting on Shabbos is not permissible, but do it anyway. Goldstein explains that if these teens knew that there was leniency to rely on for texting on Shabbos and that they are not committing a sin, they would be more motivated to keep other halakhic areas which allow for no leniencies.
Goldstein and the Shabbos App seem to justify the app by describing it as an outreach method to attract those Jewish teens observing “half Shabbos.” The way I see it, if Goldstein were teaching a class that broke out in a violent food fight, he’d rather allow the kids to pelt each other with food, hoping they would somehow then be more motivated to follow the other classroom rules, rather than put his foot down and stop the food fight.
Furthermore, the promotional video for the Shabbos App incorrectly compares the controversy regarding the app to the controversy regarding the Boro Park eruv, dismissing them both as “politics” and neglecting to explain to a possibly unaware viewer what, exactly, that refers to. The video childishly calls the rabbis who will not support the Shabbos App, “party poopers,” exclaiming that “they are looking to prohibit everything. They need to get a life!” Replete with fake Chassidish and Litvish accents and gross mispronunciations of “Shabbos,” the video is enough to convince you of the complete ridiculousness of the app.
What puzzles me even more than the app itself is the surprise people have when they hear about the app. Although the release is not until December, the online Jewish community has exploded with articles, Facebook posts, and comments on the promotional video in response to this controversial app. A topic of controversy both online and in Jewish communities, the app seems to be getting more attention than it is worth. Shouldn’t we have seen this coming? We are the generations of iPhones, iPads and iPods. Everywhere you glance, there’s an advertisement trying to sell you a newer phone or a better app. Try walking down 34th street without seeing at least one person plugged in to their phone. It won’t happen. The concept of the Shabbos App is no surprise in the context of the world we live in. Really, it was only a matter of time before the obsession with technology squeezed its way into our peaceful and quiet Shabbos.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for technology. But there is something special about being “unplugged” once a week. There’s something so genuine about curling up with a book, playing a board game, or enjoying a conversation (con.ver.sa.tion: noun, the art of actually talking to someone face to face) without the constant interruption of my phone. There is something so freeing about turning off my phone for a full twenty-four hours and enjoying the world around me instead of through my iPhone’s crystal clear, shiny screen.
Maybe the whole Shabbos App is a joke, or maybe it will never even take off even after a grand appearance in the app store. Either way, it reminds me of the peaceful clarity that one day a week provides me, and how far I will go to guard it and to cherish it. It reminds me that yes, being a Jew in the modern world is difficult, but if I have been doing it until now, despite the pressure from every direction, there must be a reason. And I’m not willing to compromise that for an app created by people who don’t consider the true halakhic ramifications of such an app. And really, if you’re not yet convinced, just think: which would you rather, a Shabbos App or a Shabbos nap?