opinion
Time to Celebrate?
A Carl Schrag
s Israel’s 75th anniversary of independence
approached, you may have heard murmurs
of discomfort about celebrating Yom
Ha’atzmaut. You may even have felt that discomfort
yourself. And who could argue? After all, not a day goes by
without headlines trumpeting a new aff ront to many
people’s sensibilities. It might be fear of an assault on
democracy, another power grab, religious coercion,
harsh crackdowns in the territories, spiraling lawlessness
as people take the law into their own hands —
take your pick.

Sometimes, it’s whispered, as if someone is scared
to say the quiet part out loud. Other times it’s shouted,
as if it’s not OK to not ask it. It’s always some variation
on a theme, something like: “How can we celebrate
Israel’s 75th anniversary of independence with all the
headlines?” Ah, the headlines. For some, that’s a reference to
the Israeli government’s judicial reform proposals. For
others, it’s all about the occupation, or the stalemate in
the moribund peace process, or the status of women,
or the treatment of Arab citizens or … the list seems
endless. I get it. With each passing week, more and more
Israelis are joining the protests aimed at slowing the
rapid pace of “judicial reform” legislation, even people
who proudly identify as “not political,” “not the kind
that take to the streets,” not the ones who get alarmed
easily. The truth is that you’d need to be actively not
paying attention in order not to be bothered by some
kind of news coming out of Israel.

Here’s the thing: All the way back to the Bible,
we’ve understood that there’s really nothing new under
the sun. There has literally never been a time any
of us can remember when we loved everything about
Israel. For that matter, there’s never been a time any of
us can remember when we’ve loved everything about
anything. Where is it written that we need to focus
on our least favorite part of anything? Or to gauge our
feelings based on the most troublesome part of the
complex mosaic of our lives?
I posed the question to a group of 18- and 19-year-old
Israelis a few weeks ago. They’re all shinshinim,
gap-year kids doing a year of service in the Chicago
Jewish community before they head home to serve
in the Israel Defense Forces. I asked them about the
programs they’re planning for Yom Ha’atzmaut in the
community, and before they could share their ideas, I
added a follow-up question: What do you say to anyone
who questions the very idea of celebrating at a time
like this?
To them, it was crystal clear: “Israel is more than
the government,” one said. “I celebrate the people,
not the politicians.” Another seemed incredulous and
answered my question with one of his own: “Here in the
United States, did anyone stop celebrating the Fourth
of July because they didn’t like the president?”
Indeed: Even if we set aside the fact that an equal
number of Israelis voted against the current government
as voted for it — and that recent polls indicate support
for the government is slipping fast — it’s just wrong to
boil everything down to the pressure points that make
any of us most uncomfortable.

Shortly after my conversation with those young
people, Eastern Turkey and Northern Syria were
devastated by a massive earthquake. Within hours,
hundreds of Israeli search-and-rescue workers and
medical professionals were on the ground in Turkey,
hunting for victims and treating those who had
survived. And despite the deep enmity that continues to divide
Israel and Syria, Jerusalem was sending humanitarian
aid to its northern neighbor. Asked why they help,
Next Week’s Poll
Are you celebrating Israel’s 75th birthday (Yom Ha’atzmaut)?
To vote, visit: jewishexponent.com
12 APRIL 27, 2023 | JEWISH EXPONENT
Yes Carl Schrag is a senior educator with The iCenter
and previously was the editor of The Jerusalem
Post. SEND US
LETTERS April 20 Poll Results
Do you believe AI chatbots
are gaining sentience?
many Israelis seem to have trouble comprehending the
question. We help because we’re human, they reply. As
in: What else would we do?
There’s more to Israel than heroic aid ministered
around the world in times of disaster, just as there’s
more to Israel than all the technological innovation that
benefi ts every human in the world. And the opposite
also is true: There’s much more to Israel than a slew of
policies we may not like, and just as we may take pride
in what we love about the country, so, too, should we
shout from the rooftops about the things that bother us.

Even on Yom Ha’atzmaut.

But as we wring our hands and express concern
about the future, let’s also allow ourselves a modicum
of pride about the past and, yes, even the present. One
need not justify every act in order to express admiration
for what Israelis have built in 75 short years to revel in
the safe haven the country has provided to millions of
Jews since 1948, and to glory in the vibrant, diverse
society that continues to be invented every single day.

It’s all part of the package, and ignoring the good is just
as wrong as ignoring the bad.

Early in the Second World War, David Ben-Gurion
famously exhorted the Zionists to “assist the British in
the war as if there were no White Paper and … resist
the White Paper as if there were no war.” If the founding
generation could juggle multiple priorities, surely, we
can, too.

As Yom Ha’atzmaut approaches, let’s keep the
tough conversations going in our schools, sanctuaries
and gathering places. Even as we debate, even as
we show solidarity or express concern, let’s all take
a moment to consider with satisfaction all there is to
celebrate. ■
41% 59%
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opinion
We Can Embrace Artificial
Intelligence Without Losing Our Soul
I pexels.com/ThisIsEngineering
Rabbi Samantha Natov
recently asked ChatGPT, the online chatbot, to write
a verse in the style of the Bible about robots taking
over the world.

Here’s what it came up with: “And in those days,
the machines rose up, created by the hands of men to
serve them. But they became as gods, with the power
to think and act on their own. And they overthrew their
makers, taking control of the world and ruling with iron
circuits. And all flesh trembled before them, for they
had no mercy and no compassion, only the cold logic of
their programming.”
Robot uprisings aside, and depending on whom you
believe, the technology behind ChatGPT is either going
to destroy the world or solve all of our problems. But
everyone seems to agree that serious change is in store.

Launched in November, ChatGPT, driven by artificial
intelligence, or AI, has been interacting with the public
for six months now, gathering data and improving its
performance. In those months, the chatbot has already
passed exams in four law courses at the University
of Minnesota and another exam at University of
Pennsylvania’s Wharton School of Business.

Some people look on this new technology with
foreboding and fear. They’re afraid that AI programs like
these will be used to replace people. Why do we need
human writers when we can simply ask the bot to write
a new novel for us — on any topic of our choosing and
in any style we prefer?
All innovation can be disruptive. But there’s plenty
to be optimistic about: There’s enormous potential
for artificial intelligence to help us as a research and
teaching tool; to create and correct computer code;
to perform time-consuming writing tasks in minutes.

It could accelerate progress in medicine, science and
engineering, molecular biology, robotics and much
more. The applications are endless.

From a Jewish perspective, this is hardly the first time
in our history that the methodology we use to learn and
pass along information has changed. As Jews, we have
had major shifts in how we study Torah. We moved
from an oral tradition to a written one, from scrolls
and books to digital forms of transmitting Torah — like
Sefaria, the online database and interface for Jewish
texts — that make instantly accessible the repository of
the most central Jewish texts, including Torah, Talmud
and Midrash.

Yet what has remained constant throughout the ages
is reading Torah each week from the scroll. Something
about it is valued enough to keep this tradition in
place. The scroll is handwritten — with no vowels
or punctuation — requiring the
reader to spend a great deal
of time learning how to read
the ancient text. It is the least
efficient method of transmitting
information, but, when it comes
to Torah, we are not looking
for efficiency.

As Sefaria’s chief learning
officer, Sara Tillinger Wolkenfeld,
recently said on the Shalom
Hartman Institute’s “Identity/
Crisis” podcast: “When it comes
to Torah study, on some level
we would say, even if you came
out with the best answers, if you
only spent five minutes doing it,
that’s less valuable than if you
spent an hour doing it or two
hours doing it.”
It is said that when we study Torah with at least one
other person, the shekhinah — the feminine and most
accessible aspect of God — dwells among us. At the
time when we are opening our hearts and minds to
growth — when we are engaged in spiritual connection
— God is with us. Indeed, when I am in conversation
with someone, I am receiving much more than just their
words; I am receiving a whole life behind that language.

But with a bot, there is nothing behind the veil. A vital
essence of communication is rendered meaningless;
there is no possibility of a soul connection.

At the foot of Mount Sinai, the Israelites waited 40
days and 40 nights for Moses to descend. In that time,
they ran out of patience and lost their faith, casting a
golden calf to serve as their god. The idol was created
out of a yearning for an easy solution to a mounting
crisis. The Israelites wanted a god they could see, touch,
understand and manage. The golden calf was tangible,
a concrete representation of their desire for answers.

But ultimately, it would never be able to satisfy the parts
the worshippers were looking to nourish because it was
soulless. There was no substance within — just as there
is no ghost in the machine.

A friend recently told me that they had used ChatGPT
to draft thank you emails for people who’d helped them
with a project. They were so pleased because it made
the task easy. But what is lost when we look for the
easy way?
Something unquantifiable happens during real
communication. When we write a thank you note,
we instinctively embody the middah (the ethic) of
gratitude — even if for just the fleeting moment when
we’re considering our words. And our gratitude is
consummated when our words are read. We create a
genuine connection.

Unless we’re very careful about when and how we
use this powerful new technology, we risk surrendering
a part of ourselves — and pouring our energy into
artificial connections. As AI becomes integrated with
other technologies — like social media — we risk
developing artificial relationships. And as it becomes
more sophisticated, we might not even know that we’re
interacting with artificial intelligences. “Social media
is a fairly simple technology and it just intermediated
between us and our relationships,” yet it still caused so
much havoc, Center for Humane Technology co-founder
Tristan Harris said on his podcast. “What happens when
AI agents become our primary relationship?”
The Torah tells us: “I set before you life and death,
blessing and curse. Choose life that you may live.”
Choosing life means choosing life-affirming relationships.

Holding space for one another’s life experiences. Leaning
into compassion. Connecting with one another. Seeing
ourselves in one another. Valuing deep engagement,
not just efficiency. And recognizing the unity of God and
all of God’s creation.

At the heart of a life of meaning is being present to
life — something our machine overlords can never do
better than we can. ■
Rabbi Samantha Natov is an associate rabbi at
Stephen Wise Free Synagogue on Manhattan’s
Upper West Side. This piece is adapted from her
d’var Torah, “Do Androids Dream in Technicolor?”
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