Artificial intelligence promises to streamline tasks, automate workflows, and even make decisions on our behalf. Whereas that might sound somewhat convenient, we find ourselves facing an unexpected paradox: While AI can free up more of our time, it also tempts us to fill that time with more work.
The ancient rhythm of Sabbath rest — a practice rooted in divine wisdom — offers a countercultural lens through which to examine this tension. The real question isn’t whether AI can give us more free time, but rather: free time for what?
The gift of limits in a limitless world
The tale of Genesis says that God created the world in six days and rested on the seventh — not because He was weary but, commentators have always suggested, to set a pattern for human flourishing. The Sabbath is not just a break from labor; it’s a sacred pause that acknowledges our limitations and reorients us toward what truly matters: relationships, contemplation, and gratitude.
AI, by contrast, operates without limits. It doesn’t tire, doesn’t need breaks, and can process data endlessly. This capacity feeds into a cultural obsession with productivity, efficiency, and optimization. In the workplace, AI tools can analyze vast datasets, draft reports, and manage schedules faster than any human could. While this efficiency can reduce (or, at least, ease) some of our daily workload, it often leads to an expectation that we should do even more with the time we’ve “saved.”
But unlike AI, we are not limitless. We are bodies—fragile, finite, and gloriously dependent on rhythms of rest and renewal. Even an accomplished athlete can only train hard for a few hours before exhaustion sets in. Muscles need recovery time to grow. Minds need sleep to consolidate memory. Hearts need quiet to find peace. Even the breath we take is patterned: inhale, exhale, pause. Our very existence is a testimony to the beauty of limits.
In this context, the Sabbath becomes not just a religious observance but, we could say, even an act of resistance—a bold declaration that our value is not defined by productivity. Pope Francis, in Laudato Si’, speaks of the need to recover time to “contemplate, to recognize, and to give thanks.” The Vatican’s recent document on AI, Antiqua et Nova, echoes this statement by cautioning against the technocratic paradigm that reduces human life to mere functionality.
If AI can give us more free time, what if we reclaimed that time not for more hustle, but for more being? More face-to-face conversations, more walks without earbuds, more moments to simply watch the sunset without feeling the urge to capture it for social media. Rest is not a luxury; it’s a necessity woven into the fabric of creation—and into the very structure of our bodies.
The rhythm of rest and the rhythm of life
Consider the natural rhythms embedded in life itself: the rising and setting of the sun, the changing of seasons, the ebb and flow of tides. These patterns invite us to honor cycles of work and rest. AI’s constant availability can trick us into believing we’re exempt from these rhythms, as if we too are machines designed for uninterrupted operation.
But we are not machines. We are embodied souls, always living in the tension of strength and fragility. The biblical Sabbath reminds us of this fundamental truth. It’s a weekly invitation to stop, breathe, and delight in the goodness of life—not as consumers or producers, but as beloved children of God. It’s a rhythm written not just in Scripture but in our muscles, our hearts, our need for sleep.
Choosing rest in an automated age
As AI continues to shape our lives, we must discern how to engage with it wisely. Let’s embrace its potential to alleviate burdens, yes—but let’s also guard against the illusion that efficiency and productivity are ends in themselves. If we gain hours in our day, let us not fill them mindlessly. Instead, may we ask: What is this time for?
Perhaps it’s for prayer. For play. For rest that nourishes both body and soul. For savoring the simple, sacred moments that no algorithm can generate.
In the end, keeping the Sabbath in the age of AI isn’t just about setting boundaries with technology. It’s about reclaiming our humanity—one heartbeat, one breath, one sacred pause at a time.
