Ash Wednesday is next week and in a sign of our modern times, a common Lenten abstinence among many Catholics I know is some form of giving up or limiting technology. For some, it’s no TV or movies. For others, it’s giving up video games or any of use their smartphones beyond necessity. Some even set their phones to use only grayscale in order to make the phone less attractive. And then Easter comes and we happily return to our old technology habits.
But what if we took a different approach to technology year round? Maybe we can look at technology as not something bad for us that we grudgingly use, but something good that we nevertheless want to be in control of and not be controlled by. This is where the idea for the digital Sabbath comes in.
On a recent episode of my technology podcast, The Secrets of Technology, that I did with Pat Scott and Fr. Andrew Kinstetter, we discussed the idea of a regular digital Sabbath that asks not only what we are willing to give up for a season, but what kind of relationship we want to have with technology for the rest of our lives.
A Sabbath is not a productivity hack or a detox. It is not primarily about feeling better, sleeping more, or optimizing attention. At its core, Sabbath is about worship, rest, and trust. It is the deliberate choice to step back and acknowledge that the world continues to function without our constant input. God remains God even when we are unreachable.
That is increasingly difficult to believe in 2026.
Our devices are no longer optional tools we pick up and put down. Phones are wallets, calendars, maps, keys, authentication devices, family communication hubs, and emergency lifelines. Most professions depend on screens, even jobs that once seemed immune. Farmers, artists, tradesmen, and pastors all rely on connected technology to do their work, and simply turning everything off is often unrealistic.
At the same time, the default posture that technology trains in us is not neutral. It encourages urgency, interruption, reaction, and consumption. Notifications demand our immediate attention, while algorithmic feeds reward outrage and comparison. Silence begins to feel uncomfortable and being unavailable and unreachable by others can trigger anxiety. Over time, this shapes not only habits, but our interior lives.
Prayer, however, requires something different. It requires stillness, patience, and the ability to remain present without constant stimulation. Likewise, love requires presence too, as does genuine rest. When technology consistently pulls us away from those places, the question is no longer whether tech is good or bad. The question becomes whether we are using it freely, or are being used by it.
“Technology is a powerful tool, but if it quietly reshapes our attention, our prayer, and our relationships, then the question is no longer whether it works, but whether it is forming us into the people we are meant to become.”
A digital Sabbath is an attempt to answer that question honestly.
The goal is not abstinence for its own sake. It is to reclaim attention and offer it deliberately to God and to one another. This requires boundaries, not as a form of control, but as a path to freedom. Christian tradition has always understood this. This is why monasteries have walls: So that prayer can flourish within them. The liturgy has structure so that worship can be shared. Families have homes so that love has a place to grow. Boundaries create space where freedom can exist.
Practically speaking, a digital Sabbath must be realistic. It does not mean pretending that phones are unnecessary. It means deciding in advance how they will be used during a defined period of time. The Sabbath can be a literal Sunday, from sundown Saturday to Sunday night. Or it can be a whole weekend. Sometimes you might want to take a whole week. And it doesn’t have to be the same thing every week. Maybe it’s one Sunday a month. Or it’s every Sunday, but once a month you extend to Saturday. The digital Sabbath can be any length of time that works for you and your family.
And the form it takes is up to you. For some people, the Sabbath might look like avoiding social media, news, email, and shopping apps for a day while still allowing calls, texts, maps, music, and prayer tools. For others, it might mean the whole family docks all devices in one place, keeping a single phone available only for emergencies, and choosing activities that are shared rather than solitary. At a more demanding level, it could resemble a retreat, with long stretches of intentional silence and no screens used for leisure at all.
The specifics matter less than the intention and the question that we must ask ourselves: Does this use of technology help me become more attentive, more prayerful, and more capable of love?
This approach is especially important for families. Children learn far more from our example than just from some rules hung on the fridge. If a digital Sabbath is framed as punishment or deprivation, it will fail. But if it is marked by joy, confidence, and shared life, it can become something children look forward to rather than resist. That means replacing screens not with emptiness, but with presence. Have family meals together around the table without any screens. Make conversation with one another, especially if they lead to laughter and joy. Play those long-neglected board games. Take a walk in a beautiful park or around the neighborhood. Read some beloved books together aloud. Make a visit with family or friends. Pray together a Rosary or the Divine Office or make a visit to an adoration chapel.
It also requires letting go of the fear of missing something important. Sabbath rests on the truth that we are not the center of the universe. If something truly urgent happens, there are ways to be reached. Most things that feel urgent are not. Learning that distinction is part of the grace of the practice.
Over time, even small, regular periods of disconnection can change how Sundays feel, how families relate, and how prayer is experienced. They can restore a sense that time is not merely something to be filled, but something to be received.
In the end, a digital Sabbath is not about rejecting the modern world, but about living in it with intention. Technology remains a powerful tool; the challenge is ensuring that it serves human dignity, relationships, and faith rather than quietly reshaping them.
Lent can be a good place to begin. The hope is that it does not end there.
To hear our complete podcast discussion about the Digital Sabbath, with specific tips, hints, and techniques, listen to the Secrets of Tech #329 at https://starquest.fm/TEC329
Comments
Nothing yet. Say the first thing.
Sign in to join the conversation.