What Makes Us Human?

Rosh Hashanah 5784

Rabbi PJ Schwartz

 

“Blessed are we, on this sacred threshold of Rosh Hashanah, where time turns and creation is reborn. May we embrace the call to teshuvah, returning to our truest selves, with hearts open to forgiveness and renewal. Let the shofar’s cry awaken our souls to the boundless potential within. In the orchard of life, may we taste the sweetness of compassion and the richness of wisdom. As we gather in unity, may love and understanding bind us ever closer. With every breath, may we weave a tapestry of purpose and meaning, guided by the light of our shared heritage. L’shanah tovah u’metukah – to a good and sweet year ahead, filled with blessings untold.”

 

Does anyone know who wrote this beautiful blessing?   Nor do I.   In fact, it was not written by anyone at all.  It was written by an algorithm that collected data within seconds to produce what, at first glance, is a seemingly original composition.  ChatGBT is an advanced language platform in which AI is capable of generating human-like text based on context and past conversations.  It took the world by storm this past April, and since has been used to support individuals in writing code, resumes, strategic plans, budgets, starting a new business, branding, and marketing.  These are just a few of the many uses of a tool that mimics the skills, talents, and tasks typically performed by humans.

 

ChatGBT has brought to the forefront significant discussions about the future of Artificial Intelligence, more colloquially known as AI.   It is amazing, and somewhat scary, that individuals have developed a model that enables these machines to analyze data, learn from it, make decisions, and perform actions that emulate human behavior.  

 

Remember, though, that AI technology has played a significant role in our daily lives for quite some time now: from GPS navigation to personalized recommendations for our next book, movie, or song choice.  It has transformed aspects of the healthcare system.  It provides residential and commercial ways to address the progression of climate change.  And it gave us the tools needed for connection, learning, convenience and ease while we were sheltering in place. Through AI technology, we are able to travel anywhere and have experiences through virtual reality.  And, after living in California, where the state bird is the Tesla, we are not too far off from the self-driving cars – there is an app that allows you to turn your Tesla on and off, and there are settings for it to self-drive using your phone as a remote.

 

Even so, we still don’t fully understand its capability and impact.   Ultimately, the question is whether or not AI is simply another technology that we will need to adapt to, or if it will dramatically and fundamentally change our world and everything that we do.  There are significant philosophical, moral, ethical, and even theological discussions that have emerged as the result of this evolving field, especially in recent years, and surely over these recent months.

 

For me, it truly makes me wonder about what makes me human.  Can my own humanity ever be replaced by something that is so anthropomorphized that it is treated like a human?  Can it begin to evolve on its own, and perhaps surpass my own capacity for acquiring knowledge, growing, and creating?  And these questions are not necessarily new – there are movies,television shows and books  that address these challenges as well: Upload, Westworld, I-Robot, Bicentennial Man, and even earlier Tron, 2001: A Space Odyssey, and the 1927 dystopian film Metropolis.  What was once, and is still considered science fiction, is quickly becoming non-fiction^[1].  

 

Judaism has grappled with this as well.  The desire to create human-like intelligence has been compared to the legend of the Golem. In Jewish folklore, a Golem is a creature made from clay or mud, brought to life through magical incantations and rituals. The golem is usually created by a rabbi or other wise man to protect the Jewish community from danger, such as pogroms or other forms of persecution. The most famous golem story is the one of the Golem of Prague, which is said to have been created by the 16th-century rabbi Judah Loew ben Bezalel to protect the Jews of Prague from anti-Semitic attacks. The golem was said to be invincible and was able to perform incredible feats of strength.^[2] 

 

Our rabbis for centuries have argued about the Golem. How should it be treated? Can it be counted in a minyan? Can it be killed? Since the golem is created by human beings rather than by God, it is not considered to have a soul in the same way that humans do. Nevertheless, the golem is often depicted as having some degree of agency and consciousness, which raises philosophical and ethical questions about the nature of life, consciousness, and morality.

 

Eventually, the golem, which was created to protect the Jewish community of Prague from persecution, but became increasingly violent and unpredictable. Rabbi Loew realized that he needed to deactivate the golem before it caused any harm, so he removed the magical incantation that gave it life.

 

Some even argue that humanity is a form of AI itself, as God created us B’tzelem Elohim, in God’s image.  So, too, AI is in some ways created B’tzelem Anashim, in the image of humans.  But we know all too well that it is a gift to be like God, but we are not God.  An often overlooked story within our Torah is that of the Tower of Babel, in which humanity sought to build a tower high enough to reach the heavens and be amongst the Gods.  The outcome was not as our ancestors wanted.  The tower collapsed, and people were dispersed throughout the world, unable to communicate with each other, no longer sharing the same language.

 

There is so much to being human that makes us different from AI.  While each of us was made b’tzelem elohim, in God’s image, none of us are exactly alike.  Every single person, though part of God’s creation, is unique.  Unlike a minter whose coins are all stamped the same, God stamps the divine image differently onto each individual.  

 

AI will never possess this Divine spark that is at the core of each of us, never possess a soul as we do.  When we speak of our soul, we are not just referring to the seat of consciousness (the mind), but to an actual non-physical entity. The mystics talk about our souls as something that animates us, that serves as the basis of our free will, that allows us to connect to God and that will exist forever, even after it separates from our physical body.

 

Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik, in his classic essay, “The Lonely Man of Faith,” points out that the Torah has two Creation stories, and thus two different descriptions of the Creation of human beings. In the first account, the story of the 7 days, Adam is created as a striver and a doer, the pinnacle of all Creation. This is the version of the story that says we were created in God’s image – we are also creators and achievers, like God.

 

But the Adam of the second Creation account, the story of Garden of Eden, is very different. He is a gardener and a caretaker. The focus of this “Adam the Second,” as Soloveitchik calls him, is on “understand[ing] the living world into which he has been cast…. encounter[ing] the universe in all its colorfulness, splendor, and grandeur.”

 

These are the two sides of our nature, the two pieces to what it is to be human: the achiever and the contemplator; the master of the world and the appreciator of the world; the human doing and the human being.

 

We need both of these sides of us. Without Adam the First, we wouldn’t build society or create technology. We wouldn’t have the drive to envision a better future and work toward it. But Adam the Second is the one who puts it into perspective, who searches for meaning, who strives just to “be” – and to appreciate the here and now. We are not always very good at cultivating that piece of ourselves.

 

I don’t think we can say that the same is true for AI.  In his book, Judaism in the Digital Age, Danny Schiff explains it best:

No matter how animated, how responsive, or reliable our AI creations might become, AI will never attain the combinations of qualities that will merit the status of being “created in the image.”  Judaism provides no license to contemplate an alternative.

 

Yes, AI can replicate certain creative tasks, but it lacks true creativity. It can generate art, music, and even write stories, but these creations lack the depth and emotional richness of human creativity. This reminds us of our unique capacity for imagination and innovation, driven by emotions, experiences, and cultural influences. AI lacks emotions and genuine empathy. While it can simulate empathy to some extent, it doesn’t experience emotions like humans do. This highlights the significance of human emotions in our relationships, compassion, and understanding of one another. AI can facilitate communication and provide information, but it cannot replace the depth of human relationships, emotional connections, and the profound sense of belonging that humans seek in their interactions with one another.^[3] 

 

Perhaps the greatest distinction between AI and humanity is that AI can learn and adapt from data, but it lacks the depth of human learning, which involves not only absorbing information but also understanding context, applying critical thinking, and engaging in lifelong learning and personal growth.  We can choose to grow, to better ourselves, and the ability to have that choice is indeed powerful. It is that choice that makes us holy, that affirms that we all are unfinished vessels.  God has indeed given us a sacred task and opportunity: to make our own tikkun, our own repair.  This is a type of growth and evolution in which I choose to believe AI can never have.  

 

On this Rosh Hashanah, this day of creation, we are reminded of how unique we truly are.  We are reminded that our ability to create, grow, and change is within our control, and no one else’s.  We are reminded that each morning when we take our first breaths after a deep slumber, it is as if we are giving a piece of our souls to the world.  On this day, in this season, may all of us celebrate and honor not only the gift to be in the image of God, but to have a positive image of ourselves.  For when we look in the mirror, we do not see anyone but us, whole, pure, and alive.   Amen.^[4] 

 

 

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