Fencing in the Rose: How Shabbat's Boundaries Set Us Free

There’s a powerful line we sing in Shabbos zemer “Ma Yedidut”. When singing about the beauty of Shabbat, we say “Kashoshanim suga,”, Shabbat is “like roses that are fenced in.”

Think about that—a rose, fragile and beautiful, needs a fence to protect it. Shabbos is no different. It’s sacred not just because of what it is, but because of the boundaries we put around it.

Without those fences, Shabbat would lose its magic. It would just become another day off. It’s those very limitations that give it meaning, transforming it into an island of peace in a noisy, chaotic world.

Shabbos forces us to stop. It says: Enough. You’re done. Now it’s time to rest. And when we accept that, we experience a unique calm. It’s a taste of Olam Haba—when the hustle is over and there’s nothing left to do. Just enjoy.

But there’s one meal that always feels different to me—the pre-Yom Kippur meal. Unlike every other Yom Tov or Shabbat meal, there’s no moment of calm. Instead of feeling like we’ve arrived, it’s this hurried, incomplete experience.

We’re still preparing, still in that frantic headspace, and we don’t get the usual peace.

And worst of all, electronics are often at the table. We’re calling people to wish them a gmar chatima tova, which is nice, but it takes away from the moment. The phones buzzing, the distractions—they rob us of the special atmosphere we usually have at the Shabbat table. We lose the focus.

Shabbat Doesn’t Wait—And That’s the Beauty of It

One of the things that makes Shabbat so powerful is that you can’t negotiate with it.

When the sun sets, Shabbat begins—whether you’re ready or not. There’s no “just five more minutes,” no extensions. You might be rushing until the last second, but when it’s time, it’s time. And that’s what makes Shabbat special.

If Shabbat was something you could push off, it would lose its beauty. You’d always be telling yourself, “I’ll start it once I’m really ready,” and it would never happen.

The fact that Shabbat is immovable—that it forces you to stop and let go—is what makes it freeing. Even when you’re not fully prepared, it doesn’t matter. Shabbat has arrived, and you’ve entered a different world.

I once heard that the biggest mistake the Conservative movement made was allowing people to drive to shul on Shabbat. Before that, if you wanted to go to shul, you had to live close. That meant your home, your friends, your community—everything revolved around Jewish life.

You built your world around it.

But when driving became allowed, people started living far apart, and suddenly the community wasn’t the same anymore. The sense of connection started to fade.

That’s the power of boundaries. They don’t just keep us in—they bring us together. The limitations we have on Shabbat force us to focus on what’s important: our relationships, our family, our connection to Hashem.

Focused Living in a Distracted World

We live in a world that’s constantly pulling our attention in every direction. Notifications, deadlines, and distractions are always competing for our focus.

Even with powerful tools like ChatGPT, the same rule applies: you can ask it anything, but if you’re not specific, you’ll end up with something too broad and unfocused. You won’t be happy with the results.

That’s why there are so many apps coming out each day that use ChatGPT as a base, but focus on something specific—whether it’s a health coach, a personal finance assistant, or a homework helper.

These apps build a fence around one specific area, cutting out the noise so you can focus and get exactly what you need. The more you narrow in on what you want, the better the result.

Shabbat is the ultimate “focus tool.” All week, we’re distracted, pulled in a hundred directions. But Shabbat fences us in. It blocks out the noise, narrows our scope, and allows us to focus on what really matters.

It’s like having a specialized app that removes all the distractions, giving us the clarity to connect deeply with our families, our communities, and Hashem.

I experienced this firsthand when I was working on a startup. I was launching a new website, and I was racing against the clock to get everything live before Shabbat.

I hit the “go live” button just in time, jumped in the shower, and got ready for Shabbat. And then—it was done. Shabbat had arrived, and I had no choice but to let go.

For 25 hours, that website was live, and I couldn’t touch it. There were so many things I could’ve been tweaking, but Shabbat gave me the freedom to walk away. It reminded me that the world doesn’t revolve around my work.

And when I came back after Shabbat, I picked up where I left off, but with a clearer head and renewed energy. Shabbat gives us the power to step back, to focus, and to realize that we can let go.

The Freedom of Boundaries

The truth is, we need fences. We need those boundaries to focus on what matters most. If we don’t create them for ourselves, the world will rush in and take over.

In a world where anything goes, we need fences more than ever.

Shabbos gives us a taste of what it means to live above the chaos. It forces us to set aside our to-do lists, our phones, our distractions, and embrace the people and experiences that truly matter.

If we had control over when Shabbat starts or what it includes, we might be tempted to water it down, to make it easier, to make it fit into our lives rather than changing our lives to fit into it.

But the fact that it is fixed, immovable, and strict is what makes it so freeing.

We’re forced to be present, to focus on the blessings we already have, and to live in the moment.

It’s in those moments that we truly experience olam haba, even if just for a taste.

So, yes, Shabbos is like a rose—beautiful, delicate, and protected by fences. But those fences are what keep it sacred. Without them, it would lose its beauty.

And that, to me, is the lesson of Shabbat and Yom Tov. We fence in what’s holy, not to limit ourselves, but to give ourselves the space to truly live.

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