Avri Gilad on Shabbat: “The Soul Has to Calm Down”

What happens to the soul when it never gets a chance to slow down? Why would someone raised with almost no connection to Jewish tradition find himself, at 40, turning specifically to Jewish texts? And how does a media personality whose life revolves around screens come to dread the moment he switches his phone back on?

In an episode of the program “David’s Song,” singer David D’Or sits down with media personality Avri Gilad to talk about what Shabbat means to him. Their conversation traces Gilad’s journey from a deeply secular childhood to a renewed connection with Jewish sources, while also touching on something many people today can relate to: the exhausting pull of phones, news, and the constant need to stay connected.

Ultimately, their conversation raises a bigger question: How do we truly rest in a world that never switches off?

“One Day, I Discovered I Had an Asset”

Gilad says he grew up in a distinctly secular home, despite his mother coming from an old Jerusalem rabbinic family. His father, a Holocaust survivor, had lost his faith in Auschwitz.

Even so, some of Gilad’s strongest childhood memories are tied to Jewish holidays. He remembers the meal before Yom Kippur and walking hand in hand with his father on Passover to buy bread, then hiding it because they were afraid of being caught carrying chametz. As a teenager, Gilad says, he even took part in clashes with Haredim in Jerusalem’s Ramot neighborhood.

Everything began to change when he was 40. After exploring Eastern spirituality, Gilad says he came to a realization: “Everything I need is in the Jewish bookshelf.”

He compares it to suddenly discovering that something valuable had belonged to him all along.

“You have an asset, and you don’t pay attention to it... One day, I discovered I had an asset.”

That discovery also changed the way he saw Shabbat. For years, his image of Shabbat had been shaped largely by the confrontations with religious extremists he had witnessed growing up. Over time, however, he began to discover what the day could mean for him personally.

“I Regularly Poison Myself With the News”

Gilad is equally candid about his relationship with news and technology. As someone who works in the media, he describes an almost compulsive need to know what is happening at all times.

“I can’t stand the thought of some fragment of information passing through the upper atmosphere without going through the internet system. And it suffocates me.”

That is exactly why Shabbat has become such an important boundary in his life.

“Shabbat arrives, and I simply shut down the device, and I enter a cellphone curfew.”

He also speaks proudly about the fact that his daughters are growing up without cellphones. In his view, this has allowed them to hold on to a basic ability to communicate face to face, something he feels many children are losing.

When D’Or asks what he thinks Shabbat in Israel should look like, Gilad describes his feelings in surprisingly visceral terms. He recalls visiting shopping malls on Shabbat and leaving with a sense of “disgust” and “desecration.”

But he is quick to clarify that he is not calling for religious coercion. What he would like, he says, is a shared understanding of the value of having one day that feels different.

“I would be happy if we could agree on Shabbat, one without coercion but with agreement.”

For Gilad, the need for Shabbat goes beyond religious observance. He believes we need it emotionally as well.

“The soul has to calm down. Otherwise, it can’t go from stress to stress to stress, just as you can’t keep stretching a string all the time. It snaps.”

Finding His Way Back at 40

Gilad also opens up about a difficult period in his life around the age of 40, when he felt isolated both professionally and personally. A close friend encouraged him to begin studying Jewish texts, and Gilad says something began to shift.

Interestingly, he felt the effect even before he fully understood everything he was learning. He describes encountering what he calls “a frequency of truth,” something that reached him on a deeper level before he could necessarily explain it intellectually.

After years of searching for spirituality elsewhere, Gilad found himself returning to something that had been there all along: his own Jewish heritage.

When the Phone Comes Back On

Perhaps the clearest sign of what Shabbat has come to mean to Gilad is how he feels when it ends.

During the week, he is immersed in the endless stream of news and information. On Shabbat, that stream stops. The phone is off. The updates can wait. For one day, he has permission to disconnect.

And then comes the moment when the phone goes back on.

For someone who readily admits how strongly he is drawn to news and technology, returning to that constant flow means leaving behind the quiet space Shabbat created.

Gilad’s story ultimately touches on something much bigger than one person’s spiritual journey. We live surrounded by notifications, breaking news, screens, and endless demands for our attention. Even when our bodies stop working, our minds rarely do.

So when does the soul get a chance to rest?

For Gilad, Shabbat has become that space: one day each week when the noise stops, the phone goes away, and the string that has been pulled tight all week is finally allowed to loosen.