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An 1859 fight over how to make matzah has lessons about the threat of AI today
(JTA) — In the last few months the world has been dazzled by an astonishing sequence of AI systems capable of performing all kinds of difficult tasks — writing code, composing poetry, generating artwork, passing exams — with a level of competence that rivals or exceeds what humans can do. The existence of these AIs has prompted all manner of soul-searching about the nature of humanity. It has also made many people wonder which human tasks are about to be taken over by machines.
The capabilities of these AIs are new and revolutionary, but the story of machines taking over human jobs is not. In Jewish history the most important story of that transition has to do with matzah, and it’s a story that carries important lessons for the present day.
Starting 164 years ago, dozens of European rabbis engaged in a furious debate that would not be fully resolved until the beginning of the 20th century. Matzah, which for millennia had been made by human hands in accordance with the narrow constraints of Jewish law, could now be processed with a series of machines that promised huge savings of time and money. As town after town adopted these machines, opposition began to rise, until it exploded in 1859 with the publication of “An Alert for Israel,” a collection of letters from prestigious rabbis, who adamantly argued that for anyone interested in following the laws of Passover a matzah made with a machine was no better than a loaf of bread.
The arguments for this position were many, but all will sound familiar to anyone following the AI conversation. Like today, some objected to the machines just because they were new and different, but most had more specific concerns. First, there was the matter of lost jobs. In many parts of Europe matzah was made by the poorest members of society, who were given the job as a way to help them raise money before one of the most cost-intensive holidays of the year. Ceding this job to machines would take work from those who could least afford it.
It takes about 20 seconds in a 1,300-degree, coal-and-wood-fired oven to bake shmurah matzah to perfection. (Uriel Heilman)
Beyond economics, there was concern that the machines just weren’t as reliable as people, especially given the rules around matzah-making outlined in Jewish law. What if bits of dough got trapped in the gears, quietly leavening for hours and unknowingly ruining whole batches of matzah in the process? What if the trays warmed the dough too fast? Without proper oversight, how could you trust your own food?
Finally, some objected to the loss of a literal human touch. Jewish law stated that matzah was supposed to be made by people who knew they were baking matzah. A machine, no matter how sophisticated, didn’t “know” anything. How could you eat matzah on Passover knowing that this most important food was made by a mindless machine?
The responses didn’t take long to arrive. “A Cancellation of the Alert,” a collection published the very same yearr, forcefully argued that machine matzah was perfectly fine — and possibly even better than the human product. No, inventions aren’t inherently bad. No, the machines wouldn’t harm the poor, because the machines made matzah less expensive for everyone. No, the machines weren’t prone to error — and they certainly weren’t more error-prone than lazy, careless humans. No, the machines didn’t know what they were doing — but the people who built them did, and wasn’t that enough?
The machines eventually won, but then something happened that I don’t think either side anticipated. With Manichewitz’s machine matzahs claiming most of the American market by the early 20th century, it was now the handmade matzah makers who were on the back foot; it was they and not the machines who needed to demonstrate that they were up to the difficult task of preparing this food with the efficiency and reliability of the machines.
The result is more than a little tragic. Matzah is the Jewish food with the deepest origins of all — deeper than brisket, deeper than latkes, deeper even than challah — and yet it is the ritual food most likely to be picked up at the supermarket and least likely to be made at home. While there are still communities today that exclusively eat handmade matzah, even this job is now largely outsourced to just a few companies that resemble their machine-driven counterparts in scale. While teachers will sometimes demonstrate how to make matzah for educational purposes, across the religious spectrum the era of locally made matzah is over.
Despite the fact that it’s hard to imagine a simpler baked good — matzah is just flour and water, and it’s literally illegal to spend more than 18 minutes making it — its production is treated as though it is only slightly less complicated than constructing a jet engine, and people are worried about shortages as though matzah were a natural resource or an advanced microchip. The transition has been so complete that we barely remember there was a transition at all.
Baked matzah coming out of the oven at Streit’s Matzo factory on Manhattan’s Lower East Side, date unknown. (Courtesy Streit’s Matzo)
Did the rabbis pushing for machine matzah know this was going to happen? Almost certainly not. The economic impact of machine labor is relatively easy to predict, but the psychological and cultural effects are a lot harder. There was probably no way of knowing how machines would change the way we thought about matzah in the long run, but today it’s clear that automating this ancient task has changed our own relationship to Passover’s central food — and because the change has resulted in a lot of alienation from matzah production, I’m not so sure it was a change for the better. Making matzah locally could have been a way to feel connected to the ancient Israelites, who left Egypt so fast that they didn’t have time to make anything else. Instead of emulating this ad-hoc food, we optimized it for cost and efficiency, in the process turning matzah into just another specialty cracker on the grocery store shelf. Was it really worth it?
It’s probably a bit much to say that OpenAI is just a modern Manischewitz, but the parallels between the debate about machine-generated matzah and the present debate about machine-generated everything are useful for considering how short-term policy choices around AI won’t necessarily capture all of the technology’s long-term effects on how human beings want to spend their time. When we relinquish an activity to an AI for economic reasons, we may eventually come to believe that humans are no longer qualified to do the task at all.
Then as now we must balance our economic needs against our ideas about what kinds of activities make for a good and fulfilling life.
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Peace for Land, Not Land for Peace
Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman attends the 45th Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) Summit in Kuwait city, Kuwait, Dec. 1, 2024. Photo: Bandar Algaloud/Courtesy of Saudi Royal Court/Handout via REUTERS
“Land for peace,” the mantra since Camp David, has brought the Palestinian-Israeli conflict to a dead end, with Palestinian militias remaining active despite the promise of statehood. It’s now time to reverse this broken policy into “peace for land,” where Palestinian acceptance of Zionism earns them territory to govern themselves. A version of this model is being tested in Gaza as part of President Trump’s peace plan. Its success is imperative. Its failure risks more of the same.
“Land for peace” is outdated — it belongs to 1967, when a fledgling Israel sought Arab recognition. The late Defense Minister Moshe Dayan delivered his famous statement after Israel took the West Bank from Jordan, the Golan Heights from Syria, and the Sinai from Egypt. To his offer, the Arabs responded with the famous “three nos” from the Khartoum Arab League summit.
Israel has come a long way since 1967, growing from a young nation seeking acceptance to a confident and strong one whose friendship is now sought after. When Saudi Arabia was on the cusp of securing a normalization deal with Israel, in 2023, but then slammed on the brakes by inserting a Palestinian state as a prerequisite, a senior Israeli official told a small gathering, in confidence, that “Israel has lived 77 years without normalization with Saudi Arabia, and can afford another 77 years.”
The problem is that the Saudis are still hung up on the old days, when their country was the biggest, wealthiest, and most influential. In 1981, when Riyadh first proposed the “two-state solution” according to the principle of land for peace, the Saudi population was six million — one-sixth of what it is today. Global oil prices were skyrocketing, Saudi GDP per capita was among the highest in the world, and surpluses allowed the kingdom to buy enormous influence.
But today, Saudi Arabia needs to sell every barrel of oil at around $96. The 2025 global market price hovered around $65. Riyadh funded a significant portion of its expenditures through borrowing. Its deficit ballooned to $65 billion or 5.3 percent of GDP. And if Venezuelan oil comes back online — and maybe Iran’s too — the Saudis will find it extremely hard to balance their books.
If the Saudis don’t transform their economy to services, the very social contract of the Saudi kingdom will start shaking. To keep it stable, populism — in terms of Islamism and antisemitism — will be the most effective tool, thus pushing Saudi Arabia further away from peace.
And yet, the Saudis still believe that peace with Israel, along the lines of “land for peace” and without the Palestinians agreeing to Jewish nationhood, is a reward to the Israelis, who, for their part, are not lured by the Saudi offers and counter by offering “peace for peace” that serves the mutual interests of both countries.
But as long as the Saudis hang on to the antiquated “land for peace,” and as long as Palestinians — alongside Qataris, Turks, and the Muslim Brotherhood crowd in general — hide their hate toward Zionism behind the “two-state solution,” peace will not come. The order for peace must be reshuffled.
First comes Palestinian and general Arab endorsement of Zionism — that is, the acceptance that Israel is the country of the Jews on their land. This means that, if there is ever a two-state solution that mandates Jews pull out of the Palestinian state, it also means that all Arabs live under Palestinian rule and that the Palestinian leadership relinquishes what it calls the “right of return.”
Once it is established that Palestinians and the Arabs understand they cannot use demographics as a Trojan Horse to undermine Jewish sovereignty, peace becomes within reach.
And once the 8 million Jews of Israel are reassured that the 493 million Arabs are not out to get them and take away their state, the rest becomes administrative detail: Palestinians will be able to govern themselves within delineated territory that does not even need a barrier with Israel, just like any two states within the US or the EU.
This is what peace looks like, and it can only be the result of “peace for land,” not “land for peace.”
As for Saudi Arabia, if it signs “peace for peace” with Israel, not only will its economy have much better chances of transforming into services, but its newfound friendship with Israel becomes an asset for Palestinians. If Israel trusts the Saudis, and the Saudis guarantee that Palestinians have come to terms with Zionism and want to live at peace with a Jewish state, then we’re almost near the finish line.
It is unfortunate, however, that the Saudis seem to be going in the opposite direction. They’re taking the Palestinians with them and wasting more time on top of all the decades wasted because of unrealism, populism, and the hope of one day seeing Israel go away.
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Facing backlash after accusing Israel of genocide, Scott Wiener steps down as Calif. Jewish Caucus co-chair
(JTA) — Scott Wiener, the California lawmaker who earlier this month announced that he believed Israel had committed “genocide” in Gaza, is stepping down as a leader of the state legislature’s Jewish caucus.
Wiener, a state senator from San Francisco, has been a co-chair of the caucus since 2023. He is currently running for Congress.
In a statement released Thursday, he attributed his resignation from the caucus’ leadership position to both his campaign and the backlash over his Israel comments. He will remain a member of the caucus after he steps down as its chair on Feb. 15.
“Last fall, I suggested stepping down but was asked to stay to provide continuity of leadership during a difficult time for the Jewish community,” Wiener said. “Now, my campaign is accelerating, and my recent statements on Israel and Gaza have led to significant controversy in the Jewish community. The time to transition has arrived.”
Wiener’s accusation of genocide, made Jan. 11 in a video posted to social media, came days after he declined to answer a question on the topic during a televised debate, spurring a backlash from pro-Palestinian voices.
His statement on Israel elicited its own criticism. Five local and national Jewish groups issued a statement saying that while they recognized Wiener’s support for the Jewish community and his own experiences of antisemitism, they were “deeply disappointed” in his video statement.
“Unfortunately, Senator Wiener’s newly stated position is both incorrect and lacks moral clarity,” said the groups, which included the Jewish Community Relations Committee of the Bay Area, the American Jewish Committee and a local Holocaust education center.
“The devastation throughout this war — including the loss of life in Gaza and Southern Israel — has been felt by us all,” they added. “Yet framing this conflict in reductionist and inflammatory terms fuels further hostility toward our community.”
Others went further, calling for him to step down from or be forced out of his leadership role. “Scott Wiener has no business being co-Chair of the CA Legislative Jewish Caucus,” tweeted Sam Yebri, a Persian Jewish pro-Israel attorney and influencer from Los Angeles.
Now, those who criticized Wiener’s comments are hoping that his resignation will turn down tensions.
“I hope @Scott_Wiener‘s decision to step down will allow our community, the @CAJewishCaucus, and the Senator himself the ability to move beyond this painful and divisive moment,” tweeted Tye Gregory, the CEO of the San Francisco JCRC, on Thursday. He praised Wiener’s support for legislation his organization backs and said he would look forward to working with Wiener during the legislative session.
The saga comes as support for Israel has plummeted among Democratic voters. Weiner is running to fill the seat being vacated by Nancy Pelosi, a staunch supporter of Israel, and both of his competitors in the Democratic primary have long backed the claim, which Israel and the United States reject, that Israel’s actions in Gaza during its two-year war with Hamas amounted to genocide.
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OneTable reimagines Shabbat dinner program amid safety concerns, layoffs and budget crisis
(JTA) — When the Shabbat-dinner nonprofit OneTable slashed a quarter of its staff last month, it wasn’t only because of a budget crisis.
It’s true that fundraising was way down. But the group was also responding to what it sees as important shifts in how Jews gather, citing its growing sense that Gen Z is less likely than others to want to open doors to their home.
Now, OneTable is revealing a raft of new pilot programs and policies, including a move away from its defining practice of subsidizing dinners; a new policy barring anti-Israel events; a renewed focus on young Jews; and a shift toward partnerships with emergent Shabbat “clubs” to lift the burden and risk of hosting at home.
“In this world right now, the idea of welcoming something, someone into your home is scary to people,” said OneTable’s new CEO, Sarah Abramson, who joined the company in May. “All of these things are actually creating barriers to people wanting to host in their homes, and so we know that we need to bring OneTable out into the world.”
At the same time, the group is centralizing its operations. While the 14 layoffs took place across the company, Abramson said OneTable had focused in part on field managers, who served as regional liaisons with hosts and potential hosts.
“If a person in that community really saw that field manager as the face of OneTable, and for whatever reason, did not feel like that person spoke to them or was not aligned with their Jewish values and how they want to Shabbat, then often they would kind of discount OneTable,” she said.
The changes come as Israel looms large over Jewish nonprofits, influencing fundraising and engagement while also at times laying a minefield, especially for younger Jews who are increasingly divided in their sentiments.
OneTable says the number of people participating annually in Shabbat dinners it supports doubled after Oct. 7, 2023, in keeping with a “surge” of Jewish engagement that many organizations observed following Hamas’ attack on Israel. Before the resulting war in Gaza, 42,000 people a year were attending OneTable dinners. After, the number reached 80,000, according to the group.
But the group struggled to keep pace when it came to fundraising. In 2024, OneTable ran a deficit of more than $900,000, spending about $10.6 million while bringing in just over $9 million in contributions, according to their tax filings that year. That represented a sharp decline in funding from 2023, when the organization reported nearly $12 million in contributions and ended the year in a surplus.
“In full transparency, our philanthropy has not kept pace with the volume,” Abramson said.
Prior to joining OneTable, Abramson worked as the executive vice president for strategy and impact at Combined Jewish Philanthropies, Boston’s Jewish federation. There, she oversaw grantmaking as well as the nonprofit’s $60 million post-Oct. 7 Israel emergency fund.
As Jews across the United States flooded funds like that with nearly $1 billion, concerns quickly emerged about whether the donations would supplant other giving. The answer at OneTable, at least, appears to be yes, Abramson said.
“Eighty thousand participants requires so much more philanthropic support at a time where, rightly, philanthropic support for the Jewish community was directed towards Israel, and really thinking about other priorities,” she said.
Gali Cooks, the president and CEO of Leading Edge, a nonprofit that provides training, research and support for Jewish nonprofits, said that there was also a “tricky confluence right now of rising demands and rising costs” within the Jewish nonprofit sector.
Cooks said that, across the sector, nonprofit leaders were realizing that they have to “think smaller and bigger at the same time” — as OneTable says it is doing.
“Within each organization, leaders are trying to achieve more focus and clarity and streamlining toward the mission,” said Cooks. “But between organizations, they’re striving for more collaboration, more partnerships, shared infrastructure, and shared planning. That’s true in the conversation about talent, board excellence, and leadership development, but I think it’s also true about things like antisemitism, security, Israel engagement, and more.”
The changes underway at OneTable include formalizing a stance on Israel for the first time. Earlier this month, the organization added a list of its “core commitments” to its website that included a section outlining drawing a hard line against anti-Israel advocacy.
“We do not formally partner with, or support, any organization, Shabbat dinners, or gatherings that call for Israel’s destruction or in any way question Israel’s right to exist,” the section reads. “We do not fund dinners that align with any political party or candidate.”
At the same time, the group is aiming to stoke Israel talk at the Shabbat table. The group has a new partnership with Resetting the Table, a Jewish nonprofit that teaches dialogue skills, to “allow our Shabbat tables to become nuanced places for hard conversations,” Abramson said during a presentation about at the Jewish Federations of North America annual conference in November.
“We also are doing a lot of pilots based on research that enable the skill of hard conversations for Shabbat,” Abramson told JTA. “For example, we have a pilot right now with Resetting the Table, helping a lot of our hosts think through, how do you actually have deep, meaningful conversations, often about Israel, but not only, particularly in the American context right now.”
For some, the changes mark an unhappy end to OneTable as a respite for young Jews from the pitched ideological divides over Israel that increasingly characterize Jewish experiences.
Alexis Fosco, a former OneTable employee, posted on LinkedIn last month in an announcement of her departure that she was “frustrated at Jewish funders withdrawing from diaspora-focused work, leaving the staff who are already subsidizing their causes to absorb the impact.” She indicated that she had not been among the laid-off workers.
“I keep thinking about how funding-driven scope creep takes hold,” continued Fosco. “It’s heartbreaking and spiritually exhausting to pour yourself into an organization and walk away realizing the work no longer aligns with what you set out to build or believe in.”
Three former field managers did not respond to JTA requests for comment.
Abramson said the nonprofit’s new initiatives would be rolled out as pilots over the coming year. But even if the tests are temporary, they mark a significant shift for the nonprofit that has long been synonymous with underwriting the costs of serving Shabbat dinner at home. Hosts have historically received $10 stipends for each registered guest at their OneTable dinners.
An analysis of host patterns found that a small number of repeat hosts were racking up disproportionate subsidies.
In September, after one former OneTable host posted about their dismissal from the program on Facebook, Dani Kohanzadeh, OneTable’s senior director of field, told JTA that it had let go of just under 50 hosts in one week. But she said that the decision was not primarily financial.
“It’s not about balancing the budget,” said Kohanzadeh. “We didn’t make this decision based on the financial cutoff, it’s based on the overall experience with our support.”
Now, Abramson said the organization plans on rolling out alternative incentives for hosting Shabbat, including a “point” system in which points can be exchanged for prizes including, potentially, trips to Israel and elsewhere.
“OneTable’s model really works for a lot of people … so we want to ensure that people who are finding a lot of meaning and financial support through nourishment continue to be able to choose that, we won’t be taking that away,” she said.
Abramson said the company was also shifting away from its recent focus on older Jewish adults to center its programming on younger Jews.
“OneTable was founded as an organization designed to provide Friday night Shabbat experiences for young adults,” she said. “This is really going back to our roots and ensuring that we are evolving the way in which young adults want to be reached.”
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