When a local bus stop suddenly starts to scream out your name. You have no choice but to listen and to stop every now and again and recharge your inner batteries. When Hashem whispers, don’t force Him to shout…

Shabbat as a bulwark against transhumanism? Ben Judah argues that the laws of Shabbat safeguard something more essential than family time and Friday night dinners…

The digital revolution has blurred the lines between time on and time off, and time off is disappearing.

In my twilight years, defined by early Jewish memories, I concluded that, while you can take the girl out of Shabbat, you can't take Shabbat out of the girl.

I have made plans to spend Shabbat with a super-frum community, who will be unaware that there is a rugby world cup on the go.

The day of rest reminds me that changing the world begins with improving myself.

As good as we are at Shabbat compliance, there seems to be one component we can’t shut off, even on the Sabbath: the voices in our heads.

A “taste of the world-to-come”, Shabbos remains our sample of the way things should really be in a world gone wrong; a chance to realign ourselves with the perfection of the world the way G-d wants it to look.

In the unfamiliar world of Shabbat, we are human beings rather than human doings, and what is important is not what we accomplish, but who we are.

Today, the very idea of “going for a walk” is a radical act of purposeful purposelessness. On Shabbos, it’s just what you do, because you must, but really because you can.

Shabbat isn’t just an expression of our faith in G-d. It’s an expression of G-d’s faith in us.

On Shabbat, away from the constant drone and the deafening din, away from the almost irresistible draw of our screens, unmoored from the continual parade of distractions which characterise the modern age, we come face to face with the world as it is and ourselves as we are. It’s frightening. It’s liberating. And it’s deeply necessary.