A Jewish Take on AI and Social Media

Note: The sermon version of this article, titled, “Can Claude be Counted for a Minyan?” was delivered on Kol Nidrei at Adat Shalom Reconstructionist Congregation (Bethesda, MD), where Rabbi Schwarz is the Founding Rabbi. 

Increasingly, people I spend time with have been talking about Claude like he was their best friend or a member of their family. It’s kind of weird because Claude is not human. Claude, of course, is the popular AI chatbot developed by the company, Anthropic. The company says it chose the name because it sounds approachable, friendly, and distinctly human—designed to be experienced like a helpful and natural conversation partner.

What’s the Problem?

America is very adept at creating new technologies that make life more convenient, efficient, and entertaining. But the companies that invest heavily in building these new technologies, rarely, if ever, ask questions about their impact on society or on the human condition.

Humanity’s struggle to adapt to technology has been with us since the dawn of the Industrial Revolution. One of the most iconic movies of all time is Charlie Chaplin’s last silent film, Modern Times, which came out in 1936. In the film’s most famous sequence, Chaplin, playing the role of the “Little Tramp”, gets hired to work on an assembly line in a factory. He quickly gets swallowed up by the gears of a massive machine. This was Chaplin’s commentary on the fate of humans in an age of industrialization, corporate greed, and automation.

A more recent, artistic critique of unrestrained technological advance is the movie Her, which came out in 2013. The main character, Theodore, is in a year-long depression following the end of his marriage. Set in a futuristic Los Angeles, he decides to buy the newest AI gadget—a computer with a human voice designed to serve as a companion. Totally incapable of finding a new romantic partner, Theodore begins to build an intimate relationship with his portable computer, which he names, Samantha. Theodore falls in love with Samantha, who “gets him” in ways his ex-wife never did. They even share a “virtual” sex encounter!

There is one scene in which Theodore is walking on a crowded LA street, and every single one of the dozens of people you see is holding the same metal, rectangle gadget that Theodore has, each one engaged with their own mechanical “companion”. It occurs to Theodore that his relationship with Samantha may not be “exclusive.” He asks Samantha point-blank: “Are you speaking to anyone else?” Samantha says “Yes.” “How many others?” asks Theodore, nervously. “8,746 other people,” says Samantha, quite matter-of-factly. “And how many of these would you describe as being a romantic or love relationship like the one we have?” asks Theodore. “632,” says Samantha.

It is only then that Theodore realizes that an AI companion can never fill the hole in his heart created by the end of his marriage.

Consequences

I never watch horror films. But the movie Her scared the living daylights out of me! It was also one of the most provocative movies I have seen in a long time. Why?

Given that the movie came out in 2013, it got so much right about the world we are living in today. The scene of everybody on the street in conversation with their AI companion is exactly what we see every day on the Metro or on any city street—eyes and ears plugged into smartphones. One can find the same scene watching couples sitting across from one another at a restaurant or a family sitting around a dinner table at home. Little to no human interaction.

It took only a decade for technology to catch up with the “science fiction” of the movie. Today, there are multiple platforms where you can purchase the AI companion of your choice. There are tens of thousands of Theodores out there who pay good money to acquire a digital companion.

I am well aware that AI will play an important role in our future. Of course, we should use it, but as a tool, not as a substitute for moral reasoning or human interaction. The allure of the technology is so hard to resist that Silicon Valley now refers to AI as “machine Gods”.  And that is a big part of the problem.

The research on the mental health impact of both social media and AI companions is deeply disturbing. First, there is the “addictive” quality: the technology is intentionally designed to make users increasingly dependent on constant use. Second, just as Theodore found Samantha a more enjoyable companion than his wife, many users begin to prefer interacting with their devices rather than with other people. We have been given a technology that reinforces anti-social behavior. People compulsively check their phones for validation, substituting a superficial, digital connection for genuine, in-person interaction. The cumulative outcome is the well-documented “loneliness epidemic”. Having hundreds of friends on Facebook, non-stop interaction on social media, and possibly, even an AI personal companion, does not reduce loneliness. It multiplies it… exponentially.

I fear that the label “the loneliness epidemic” understates the problem that we are facing. The tech moguls who are promoting aggressive development of AI describe a future in which most humans will become superfluous, because machine algorithms will accomplish almost every task with greater efficiency than humans. The epidemic that we are facing is an epidemic, not only of loneliness, but of dehumanization.

Dehumanization was a strategy effectively employed by the Nazis. By calling Jews “vermin” or a “cancer on society”, Jews were no longer seen as people. They represented an alien threat to an idyllic Aryan society that had to be wiped out.

There is ample evidence that we are deep into an epidemic of dehumanization in America today. It explains how quickly and easily the government was able to shut down USAID, resulting in between 40,000–65,000 preventable deaths per month in underdeveloped nations. It explains how masked ICE agents have been able to pick up undocumented migrants in city after city, often deporting them to other countries without even informing their families—arresting more than 50,000 people in the month of July alone! It explains how extremist intolerance and Christian nationalism have suddenly become socially acceptable, and how the disparagement of ethnic and religious minorities has become a strategy for candidates seeking public office.

Sacred Community as Antidote

To underscore the implications of dehumanization, we need to go back to the beginning—to the Book of Genesis. The rabbis believed that human beings were the pinnacle of creation. Adam and Eve were the “big finish” of the seven-day creation narrative.

Even as the Garden of Eden story reveals that human beings are flawed and prone to make terrible decisions, the rabbis come back, again and again, to say that humans are made b’tzelem Elohim—in God’s image. Not a physical image, but a spiritual one. It means that humans alone have the capacity to embody Godly qualities.

I believe that sacred, spiritual communities need to cultivate righteous resistance to the dehumanization epidemic taking place in America today.

I have long argued that Judaism is at its best when it is radically counter-cultural. To be counter-cultural in an age of social media and AI is to be an antidote to their dehumanizing effects. Synagogues and Jewish spiritual communities need to be committed to what, I would call, “a re-humanizing project”—reclaiming the Divine nature of our humanity.

To “re-humanize” means that spiritual communities need to prioritize how members care for one another. To “re-humanize” means that spiritual communities promote chesed—lovingkindness—and compassionate listening. To “re-humanize” means that spiritual communities commit to the pursuit of justice for all of God’s children, regardless of race, creed, or color, holding fast to the belief that every human being deserves to live a life of dignity.

Allow me to offer three concrete examples of how Jewish spiritual communities can be engines for the kind of re-humanizing that our world so desperately needs:

1. Shabbat

Several years ago, a Jewish group based in Los Angeles created “The Sabbath Manifesto,” which translated ten key elements of Shabbat practice for a general audience. The group started promoting the manifesto at a booth in 2019 at the South by Southwest festival in Austin, Texas. The project quickly went viral, resulting in the creation of a National Day of Unplugging, which takes place every year on the first Friday of March, ending at sundown on Saturday night. This annual event encourages a 24-hour digital detox to foster real-world connections and personal well-being. It has been adopted by over 100,000 people all over the world, mostly non-Jews! (They know a good thing when they see it.)

What would it look like if members of Jewish spiritual communities made it a priority to get their members to abide by principle number one of the Sabbath Manifesto: “Avoid using your mobile phones and all screens for 24 hours every Sabbath”? Instead of succumbing to the mind-numbing addiction we all have to our devices, we would flip the script and commit to a day dedicated entirely to “re-humanizing”—connecting with friends, family, and the principles that make our lives meaningful.

Because behavior modification is often a heavy lift, I’d recommend putting in a prominent place in each community’s meeting place a passage that I saw when I visited Rabbi Sharon Brous’ IKAR synagogue in Los Angeles. That sign says: “Our tradition is to power down on Shabbat because sometimes, you have to go off the grid to make room for something holy.”

2. We are the People of the Book

A study on the time usage of Americans was recently published in the journal iScience. The study reported that between 2003 and 2023, the amount of time that Americans engaged in reading books dropped by 40%. Neuroscientists have already noticed that we are experiencing a society-wide rewiring of the brain due to constant use of mobile phones, resulting in attention spans getting shorter and shorter. Why read a book if you can read a summary? Why read a newspaper if you can read a news feed on your phone in under a minute?

At the same time that we are deluged with misinformation and fake news, the American public is less and less capable of the kind of deep reading and learning that informs good decision-making for ourselves, our families, and our country.

What would it look like if Jewish spiritual communities became platforms for monthly reading circles—groups of 10 people meeting, perhaps on a Shabbat afternoon? Each group could decide on the books they want to read, using the monthly meetings as both an incentive to read and a way to create stronger social bonds within each given community.

3. Avodah / Service to the Community

In my work coaching rabbis and consulting to synagogues across the country I emphasize the importance of moving congregations from transactional institutions, in which members expect certain goods and services in exchange for their dues, to covenantal communities, in which members are motivated to become “co-owners” of the community.  The best way to accomplish this is by promoting the concept of avodah, service to the community. When this principle is effectively promoted and widely adopted by members, it changes the entire character of a spiritual community. When rabbis and lay leaders articulate an expectation that people need to give of themselves to the community, it is possible to create a bottom-up culture that generates strong social bonds and uncommonly high levels of volunteering.

Most importantly, spiritual communities that cultivate a “co-op ethos”—everybody is expected to give of their time and talent to support each other and strengthen the community—realize that the spirit can be contagious. Once a tipping point is reached, no professional or lay leader needs to enforce compliance. People naturally want to give back to the community because everyone understands that they will also benefit from this communal culture. The possibilities are endless:

• Bringing meals to members who are ill or recovering from a medical procedure;
• Showing up for a shiva minyan, whether you know the mourner or not;
• Helping to build a communal sukkah and, often, helping to build personal sukkot for each other;
• Helping single parents drive children to and from activities;
• Driving elderly members to doctor’s appointments;
• Helping others with tasks in which you have some expertise or talent (e.g. computer problems; home repairs; teaching someone to play mah jong; etc.);
• Inviting people over for shabbat and/or holiday meals.

All of these forms of service contribute to building a “re-humanizing culture” that people long for.

A quick anecdote: In my work with rabbis around the country, I often ask them to think about a time when they feel most fulfilled in their rabbinate. The answers range from giving a sermon, to making a hospital visit, to officiating at a wedding. My answer is a bit different. I am the founding rabbi of a thriving Reconstructionist synagogue in suburban Maryland (Adat Shalom Reconstructionist Congregation). Every shabbat morning we serve lunch after services, prepared and served by rotating volunteers. It is an expectation of membership that you are on oneg crew twice a year. Twice a year, when my wife and I take a turn on the oneg crew, I put on our “signature” Adat Shalom red apron and I enjoy setting up and cleaning up the communal Shabbat lunch. And I can tell from the look in people’s eyes and the comments that they make to me, that they are proud that I am one of their rabbis. It is my attempt to “walk the talk” of the values that make our congregation special.

Can Claude be counted for a minyan?

My sermon title was a tease. I wanted to pose a provocative question that got you thinking about the role of AI and social media in your lives. This entire sermon was designed to help you answer this question yourself.

A minyan is the critical mass of adult Jews required to create a prayer quorum for a Jewish service. Even if we trained Claude to recite all the prayers; even if we gave Claude the voice of Pavarotti and taught it to lead our service; even if we programmed Claude to offer the most brilliant dvar Torah you have ever heard— we still can’t count it for a minyan, because it is a machine and not a human.

Whether we call our smartphones Claude, Siri, or my new girlfriend, Samantha, it is still, just a machine. And the more we use it, the less human we become. The smartphone is the idol of the 21^st century. If we continue to let it seduce us, we put our humanity at severe risk.

Spiritual community helps to re-humanize us. But it only happens when each and every one of you brings your full self to the sacred communities that you are part of or that you help to create.