About a week ago, I logged on to Amazon and purchased an item, which I’m sure many of you have, as we currently experience unusually snowy conditions.
It was a 10-pound bucket of ice melt designed, of course, to keep the steps of our home “slip free.”
So, last weekend, as we experienced another large dump of snow, I proudly lifted the bucket to the front steps of our house – scoop in hand.
I reached under the lid and tried to pry the top off. I pulled and shimmied and yanked, but the top would not budge.
And then I noticed it. On the top of the lid, there was a QR code with a paragraph written next to it. “The lid on this product is unusually difficult to remove. Please scan the QR code and watch the YouTube video on how to open this product.”
I grumbled, but without any real alternatives, I complied.
And then it happened. My phone buzzed with a message.
“An outside device is trying to access your YouTube account. Please check your email for the personal code to proceed.”
As fate would have it, a staff member from the synagogue arrived, and kindly offered to scrape our front steps.
As for my 10-pound bucket of ice melt, it remains near our front door with a dent from my foot along the side.
As I later sat down for a few moments, recoiling from this ridiculous experience, I couldn’t help but ask myself, “Where has humanity gone?”
Does it somehow feel that we are spending half our time speaking with computers, bots, and recordings, which tell us how important “your call is to us.”
No wonder so many of us these days feel unheard and alone.
Over the past few weeks, as I recovered from minor surgery, I had the opportunity to watch a bit more television than usual.
And one of the hottest topics these days is Artificial Intelligence (AI). Many love this amazing, new and brilliant medium.
And to be honest, I am lost without Alexa. She can tell me –within two seconds — how to convert US funds into foreign currency, what the temperature is, who is currently winning the hockey game, or on what day Purim will arrive in 2027.
But have we reached the point where we have become so dependent on technology that we are hopelessly addicted?
More importantly, have we forgotten how to be human?
This week, journalist Harry Enten posted a podcast where he noted that according to a recent study, more than 81 percent of American millennials experience extreme anxiety when the phone rings.
It’s called “tele phobia.”
As one expert noted, “Because we send hundreds of texts per day, we no longer experience the subtle tones of each other’s voices. We use emojis – lots of them. How ironic that we are regressing to a world of hieroglyphics.
“Couples even argue longer because they rely on texts and emojis rather than vocal tones, eye contact and touch.”
Within this context, I began rereading this week’s Torah portion – Tetzaveh (You shall instruct), which bears an uncanny resemblance to New York Fashion Week.
The Torah describes how the Kohanim, overseers of the Israelites’ holy sites, wore identifiable garments – each one painstakingly constructed with a variety of yarns, threads, and metals.
Based on this array of clothing, traditions, and rituals, everyone knew who they were and how they interacted with each other.
How we dress, present ourselves to others, express our words, and share kindness are based on human interaction and a unique role assigned to each person. That is what the communities that Jews developed were based on.
In the opening scene of Fiddler on the Roof, Tevya observes his neighbors in his village of Anatevka and shares, “Because of our traditions, everyone knows who he is, and what God expects him to do.”
But who are we these days, as we too often — in the name of convenience, time and even profit — turn our lives over to Artificial Intelligence?
Within this unchecked addiction, we are passively embracing a world that increasingly interacts machine-to-machine, rather than person-to-person.
Does anyone see the problem with this?
At the dawn of our history, as Jewish people, we were assigned to bring God’s essence to earth. The Torah tells us that God wants to live among us within a world of meaning, through a system of personal and ethical behavior that values the individual.
We bring God to earth through human contact. We practice kindness person-to-person – not through algorithms. I believe AI will eventually help us find a cure for cancer; thoughtful use of this technology will make us smarter and more efficient.
But let’s never forget that God put humanity on this earth to partner with God to complete creation. We are here to help alleviate problems that plague this broken world: Homelessness, hunger, racism, environmental imbalance, gun violence, political dishonesty, and greed.
Therefore, during this week dedicated to individual expression, let us commit to using our fingers less and our voices and eyes more.
We can call a family member and tell them how much we care about or miss them.
We can even use the phone.
We can write a letter if we can find a pen.
We can take a walk, turning off our phone beforehand.
Let us never lose sight of the fact that living a meaningful life can only be found in how we interact with other – not within our addiction to machinery.
Let us express compassion and kindness through words, rather than emojis.
Let us, therefore, during these times enslaved to QR Codes and passwords, strive to achieve balance, using AI as a tool to serve us, rather than the opposite.
I asked myself at one point this week, “Where has humanity gone?”
And I answered, “It is still here.”
For, as far as I know, God and human beings are real. And AI is just that. It is, and will always be, artificial.
Shabbat shalom, v’kol tuv.
Rabbi Irwin Huberman