We’re Wasting Our Lives Staring at Our Phones

As an observant Jew, I am privy to an experience that nearly no one else in the Western world will ever have. 

Once a week, I close my phone and laptop away in a drawer and don’t open it again for an entire day. 

It is, without a doubt, the most radical, countercultural thing that I do.

During this day of disconnect, I find myself marveling at myself for things that would have been utterly banal just a couple of decades ago — things like walking to synagogue without a phone call or a podcast; chopping a cucumber without an episode of Real Housewives blaring in the background; and even just staring into space for a bit when I wake up, letting my mind take whatever course it chooses. 

To my nonobservant and non-Jewish friends, this is an amazing feat, indicative of an inner wellspring of self-control and discipline. The truth is, however, that it’s easy to turn off the tech for a day. What’s hard is moderation. 

The instant that Shabbat ends, I am pulled back in. After Havdalah comes Hadlakah — the turning on of the devices. 

Often, I have two screens going at once. A TV show in the background while I scroll in the foreground. 

Sometimes I lose time. I pick up my phone to check my calendar and suddenly come to, realizing that 40 minutes have passed. 

Occasionally, as I lie in bed at night or early in the morning, I yield completely to the phone’s forceful seductions — lifting my neck to the sweet oblivion of the vampire’s bite. 

The youth call this “bed rotting.” Some of them have the audacity to call it a “self care” practice. It is not. Spending an afternoon in bed, as I often do on Shabbat, can indeed be refreshing and joyful. “Rotting” in bed in front of a screen feels as awful as it sounds. 

I’ve considered ditching my smartphone for a flip phone, what the ultra-Orthodox call a “kosher phone,” but as someone who uses social media for work, this isn’t a good option. Tech companies like Apple and Meta have us right where they want us. The tech, which is designed to be as addictive as possible, has been so thoroughly integrated into our lives that any possibility of going cold turkey is effectively blocked. 

What can be done? There are apps that promise to help us limit screen time. Online gurus offer helpful tips, telling readers to “use a timer!” or “set a daily limit!” or “ban devices from the dinner table!”

Recently, Surgeon General Vivek Murthy suggested slapping social media services with warning labels like those found on a pack of cigarettes.

All of this falls short. The focus on hacks and tips makes it seem like this is a small problem, and not a massive spiritual crisis. The focus on mental health outcomes, while important, can obscure the bigger picture, which is that it’s entirely possible to waste one’s entire life this way.

Consider this. Some studies show that the average American is in front of a screen for seven hours a day. We sleep for around eight. We work for eight. That leaves us with one hour a day for everything that matters.  

Some studies show that the average American is in front of a screen for seven hours a day. We sleep for around eight. We work for eight. That leaves us with one hour a day for everything that matters. 

The late poet Mary Oliver famously asked, “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”

Certainly not this. 

Not “bed rotting.”

Not throwing away time as if it were worthless.

Not having reality mediated and filtered for us by Silicon Valley billionaires. 

The only suggestion I can offer right now is this—if you don’t turn off your phone for Shabbat already, start doing it. This won’t cure you of your screen addiction. Once three stars appear in the sky you’ll be right back to your old ways. 

But at the very least you will have one day a week to remember what this wild and precious life is really for. 

Matthew Schultz is a Jewish Journal columnist and rabbinical student at Hebrew College. He is the author of the essay collection “What Came Before” (Tupelo, 2020) and lives in Boston and Jerusalem.