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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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Alabama is forcing the Ten Commandments into my children’s classrooms. As a rabbi, I’m horrified
As of this month, many public schools in Alabama are required to display the Ten Commandments in classrooms, libraries, lunchrooms and all other common spaces.
Proponents of Senate Bill 99, signed into law by Gov. Kay Iven on April 10, have claimed that these enforced displays are historical, educational and religiously neutral. As an Alabama rabbi — and a father of two future public school students — I see that defense as not just incorrect, but also deceitful, especially because the version of the Ten Commandments that the law endorses is, itself, not historically accurate.
The Ten Commandments are a sacred Jewish text. They were given to the Jewish people, written in Hebrew, and rooted in a specifically Jewish story of liberation and covenant. This law takes that text, strips it of its context, and reshapes it using a Christian lens.
The version of the Ten Commandments that will be displayed in our schools omits the text’s defining opening: “I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of slavery.” That line grounds the commandments in the narrative of the Jewish people. To remove it is not preservation. It is distortion.
Claims of the law’s neutrality are a strategy meant to give legal and cultural cover to the fact that it clearly privileges one particular Christian worldview in public institutions meant to serve everyone.
This does not reflect the beliefs or desires of all Christians. Many Christian leaders and communities understand that faith loses its integrity when it is elevated or enforced by the state. Many of my Alabama colleagues, across religious traditions, are dismayed by this as well. They understand that this law is an ideological move that uses religion to draw boundaries around belonging, and object to that weaponization of something sacred.
In opposing Senate Bill 99, the American Historical Association made the point plainly, arguing that this law presents a distorted version of American religious history under the label of “historical truth.”
The text of the bill describes the Ten Commandments as “a key part of the Judeo-Christian religious and moral tradition” — a claim that does not reflect the consensus of historians, legal scholars or the judiciary.
The idea of a unified “Judeo-Christian” tradition is itself a misleading modern construction. It did not come from Judaism. It emerged within a Christian framework and recasts Judaism as a precursor to Christianity rather than a living, evolving tradition in its own right.
Alabama students, like students across this country, deserve an education that is accurate, intellectually honest and grounded in real scholarship. Public schools should be places where students can form identities they are proud of, develop the values that guide them, and begin to understand how they can contribute to the world around them. They should be places where students feel safe, nurtured and valued.
This law erodes those principles. Instead, it replaces real education with ideology, narrowing what students are allowed to learn and how they are taught to understand their country. It denies students exposure to the full diversity of American religious life, replacing that rich landscape with a single, imposed narrative.
When a classroom wall presents one version of a religious text as if it were foundational to civic life, it sends a message. Some students will see themselves reflected in the text. Others, like my children, will learn that they are on the outside. Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists, Sikhs, atheists and others will be further pushed to the margins.
This law is about power: who has it, and who does not. It is about whose story is told, and whose is reshaped to fit someone else’s narrative. And it teaches something dangerous: not to think, but to conform. To get in line. To stay silent. To learn, early on, where you stand.
The United States cannot be great when it elevates one religion over others. Our students deserve better than indoctrination presented as education. They deserve a system that reflects that we are a nation shaped not by one tradition, but by many.
As a rabbi, I am angry that a sacred text from my tradition is being taken, altered and presented as something it is not.
As a Jew, I am furious that our story is being stripped of its context and repurposed in a way that marginalizes others.
And as a father of two children who will be in public school, I am deeply uneasy about what this signals to them about who belongs — and who does not.
That is why we must speak out and do everything we can to oppose and repeal this law. We must work to protect a better kind of American society — one that ensures our public institutions remain open to all, and that our children grow up in a world that reflects the dignity of difference, not the demand for conformity.
The post Alabama is forcing the Ten Commandments into my children’s classrooms. As a rabbi, I’m horrified appeared first on The Forward.
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Some Tankers Cross Strait of Hormuz Before Shots Fired, Ship-Tracking Data Shows
A satellite image shows the ship movement at the Strait of Hormuz on April 17, 2026, in Space. EUROPEAN UNION/COPERNICUS SENTINEL-2/Handout via REUTERS
More than a dozen tankers, including three sanctioned vessels, passed through the Strait of Hormuz after a 50-day blockade was lifted on Friday, shipping data showed, before Iran reimposed restrictions on Saturday and fired at some vessels.
Reopening the strait is key for Gulf producers to resume full oil and gas supplies to the world, and end what the International Energy Agency has called the worst-ever supply disruption.
US President Donald Trump said on Friday Iran had agreed to open the strait, while Iranian officials said they wanted the US to fully lift its blockade of Iranian tankers.
Western shipping companies cautiously welcomed the announcements but said more clarity was needed, including on the presence of sea mines, before their vessels could transit.
IRAN RESUMES RESTRICTIONS
The ships that passed through the strait on Friday and Saturday via Iranian waters south of Larak island were mainly older, non-Western-owned vessels and included four sanctioned ships, according to ship-tracking data.
Iran arranged passage for a limited number of oil tankers and commercial ships following prior agreements in negotiations, a spokesperson for Iran’s Revolutionary Guards said.
Other ships have been seen approaching the strait and turning back as Iran said it would maintain strict controls as long as the US continues its blockade of Iranian ports.
The UK Navy reported on Saturday that Iranian gunboats fired at some ships attempting to cross the strait.
Some merchant vessels received radio messages from Iran’s navy saying the strait was shut again and that no ships were allowed to pass, shipping sources said on Saturday.
Ship-tracking data showed five vessels loaded with liquefied natural gas from Ras Laffan in Qatar approaching the strait on Saturday morning.
No LNG cargoes have transited the waterway since the US-Israeli war with Iran began on February 28.
Hundreds of ships have been stuck in the Gulf since the conflict started and Tehran closed the strait, forcing Gulf oil and gas producers to sharply cut production.
Top producers such as Saudi Arabia, the UAE, Iraq and Kuwait say they need steady tanker flows and unrestricted passage through the strait to resume normal export operations.
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Trump Greenlights Russian Oil to Ease Strain on Global Markets After War with Iran
US Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent in Washington, DC, US, March 27, 2026. Photo: REUTERS/Jonathan Ernst
i24 News – The Trump administration has authorized a 30-day emergency waiver allowing the maritime purchase of Russian oil, reversing a hardline stance in an effort to stabilize skyrocketing global energy prices.
The Treasury Department announced Friday that the license for crude and petroleum products will remain in effect until May 16, 2026, responding to intense pressure from international partners struggling with the fallout of the war with Iran.
This policy pivot comes as a surprise after Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent suggested earlier this week that no further exemptions would be granted:
“As negotiations with Iran accelerate, the administration seeks to ensure oil availability for those who need it most. We must prevent a total price collapse for consumers while the geopolitical situation remains volatile.”
Ensuring global oil availability is paramount for the US as over 80 energy facilities in the Middle East have been damaged by recent war with Iran. With the November midterm elections approaching, record-high fuel prices at the pump remain a primary vulnerability for the Republican party. By allowing Russian oil back into the maritime flow, the administration hopes to neutralize “pain at the pump” before voters head to the polls.