This topic began with a conversation I had with my havruta (study partner), a well-respected doctor. He told me very succinctly: “Medicine in the future will be directed not via doctors’ intelligence, training, or dedication but rather by those who know how to best utilize and apply the medium of AI. An apparatus that can rapidly scan every similar case, while taking into account all the patient parameters and all the results of their treatments, can and will deliver the soundest diagnosis and course of action possible.”
The advent of artificial intelligence has provoked a massive debate over its use – and abuse – particularly its ethical ramifications: Is it beneficial for society or is it destructive? Is it a godsend or ungodly? Will it usher the planet into a more knowledgeable, more productive era or will it prove to be our demise and cause us to cry out “AI, AI, AI!”?
Of course, the simple answer is that AI has the potential for both scenarios. Like nuclear energy, smart phones, or – as Susie would say, rabbis – these innovations can make the world more perfect or can cause humanity severe physical, mental, or spiritual traumas. Fair enough. But what about the Jewish aspect? Is AI good for the Jews or not?
As in medicine, AI can scan the entire body of Jewish literature and responsa. It can access hundreds of thousands of psakim – rabbinic decisions – and arrive at a consensus faster and more accurately than any human could. From the Talmud’s Oral Law and numerous halachic codes, it can learn how to render decisions. It studies how halachic decisors reason, interpret texts, and compare cases; it considers the unique circumstances of the question, and then it arrives at answers. AI has perfect recall, and a limitless command of Jewish knowledge. AI can “study” all of any sage’s writings and actually “learn” how he thinks, and then project what he would rule in a specific case.
Imagine the possibilities AI may offer: We could recreate the Talmudic debates between Hillel and Shammai and watch their brilliant back-and-forth arguments. We might join a class of Maimonides as a robot look-alike teaches and explains his Guide to the Perplexed. We might even have our sages opine on phenomena that were totally unknown in their times. What would Rav Saadia Gaon think about texting on Shabbat? How would the Vilna Gaon or Nahmanides feel about traveling to synagogue on Shabbat in self-driving cars?
Can – or perhaps should – any individual Jew who is looking to fulfill God’s word direct his or her halachic question to AI, and then be obligated to follow its ruling? After all, if you could ask your question to a panel of the greatest sages of all time, how could you possibly disagree with their verdict? Is AI, then, the perfect decisor?
We might also ask, what is the effect of AI on Torah learning? If we are learning to amass knowledge so as to use that knowledge in order to come to some conclusion, we could not hope to master Jewish literature as well as AI can. It has learned and memorized every tractate, complete with every commentary by Rashi, Tosafot, and a thousand other sources. It is the quintessential talmid hacham, Jewish scholar, as it never stops studying.
Halachic questions surrounding AI abound: Can an AI robot be programmed to carry out mitzvot? While some specific commandments – performing a brit milah, writing a Torah scroll – need to be performed by a human, who declares he is doing it specifically “for the sake of a mitzvah,” other ritual acts may very well be permissible, such as acting as a mashgiah (ensuring kashrut of food preparation and reporting back to a central supervisor).
An AI app that is synced to our calendars, emails, and appliances – and is also aware of the restrictions of Shabbat – could be an invaluable asset. For example, it could detect that you have invited extra guests for Shabbat and thus turn off the lights later than usual (or earlier, if your guests tend to overstay their welcome!). It knows what time you usually return from synagogue on Shabbat and holidays – as well as when services run later than usual – and can then automatically call your elevator or open electric doors so you needn’t press any buttons. There are endless, fascinating scenarios vis-à-vis Halacha that intrigue us.
So where do Torah study, rabbinic authority, and God fit into all this?
LET ME respond with some basic ideas.
Why do we study Torah? One goal is to amass knowledge in order to better understand Jewish practice and arrive at proper halachic decisions. But it’s much more than that. We study because the holy words bond us with God; “Torat Hashem temima,” the Torah makes us more complete, and it is m’samchei lev, it gladdens the heart. There is a mystical, elemental feeling of joy and fulfillment when we examine a verse or debate a commentary, especially with a havruta, a group, or even alone. It matters very little whether we arrive at a conclusion; it is the journey, not the destination, that matters most.
Torah study, like all intellectual activity, sharpens our minds. Some of the most brilliant people – from businessman Albert Reichmann to legal expert Alan Dershowitz – have stated that their respective financial success and expertise in jurisprudence stemmed directly from their diligence in Talmudic study. Perhaps this is why the rabbis developed the concept of Torah lishma, studying for no other reason than the sake of learning. Even just reading the words of sacred texts, without understanding a single word, is meritorious, they say.
When it comes to being a decisor of Jewish law, AI may be steeped in facts and figures, and even have the ability to project possibilities, but it lacks intuition and an intimate, personal knowledge of the inquirer. Can AI understand what the questioner is going through in his or her life, what his or her emotional state is? Does AI have sechel, insight, or a sense of hessed, kindness? Can AI be sympathetic and take people’s feelings into account?
And then there is the God factor. There is a basic difference between Halacha and God. While AI may indeed be a valuable tool of Halacha, it cannot duplicate the Almighty, who sees the performance of Jewish law as ultimately a vehicle for our self-improvement. AI cannot instill in us the godly spirit of seeking truth, or sacrificing for the common good, or extending ourselves to go the extra mile for a friend, even when it is not required. These impulses come from God and express our fervent desire to emulate God’s attributes.
AI also cannot strengthen us when we encounter tragedy, or fill our hearts with joy when we perform a mitzvah. It cannot connect us to our glorious history while directing us to secure the future for our children – only God can do that. For so many of the things I need in order to live a meaningful and satisfying life of holiness, I cannot pray either to AI or to Halacha – I can only reach out to God, who created me and is the goal I seek.
I fully believe that God endows man with the ability to innovate the world on every level, including technologically. Adam was told at the beginning of time to use his resources to take control of his environment rather than let it control him. We can and should advance our world, and AI may be a significant part of enhancing our lives, despite its risks and potential for misuse.
But at the same time, we will always need God – perhaps even more so in the age of AI.
The writer is director of the Jewish Outreach Center of Ra’anana. rabbistewart@gmail.com