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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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The post An 1859 fight over how to make matzah has lessons about the threat of AI today appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Longing for the way secular Jews used to be
איך זיץ דאָ און הער זיך צו צום קול פֿון מײַן פֿעטער יונה ז״ל ווי ער ריכט אָפּ דעם פּסח־סדר אינעם יאָר 1962… און איך קוועל דערפֿון.
יונה גאָטעסמאַן איז געווען אַ סעקולערער ייִד, אָדער ווי מע פֿלעג עס רופֿן אין יענע יאָרן — אַ וועלטלעכער. ער האָט נישט געהיט שבת אָדער כּשרות, און טאַקע דערפֿאַר איז בײַ אים נישט געווען קיין מניעה צו רעקאָרדירן זײַן קול בײַם סדר. אָבער ווען מע הערט ווי ער זאָגט דעם יום־טובֿדיקן קידוש, אָדער דעם „הא לחמא עניא‟ (די דערקלערונג וואָס רופֿט יעדן איינעם וואָס ס׳איז הונגעריק צו קומען און עסן) אָדער דעם „אחד מי יודע‟, דאַכט זיך דיר אַז סע זינגט אַ פֿרומער ייִד מיט אַ קיטל. ער זאָגט די הגדה מיט אַ ניגון וואָס חזרט זיך כּסדר איבער און די ווערטער פֿליִען פֿאַרבײַ אַזוי גיך אַז ס׳איז מיר אַ מאָל שווער צו דערקענען וווּ ער האַלט. אָבער טאַקע דערפֿאַר קלינגט עס אַזוי נאַטירלעך.
אונטן קענט איר אַליין הערן ווי יונה גאָטעסמאַן ריכט אָפּ דעם סדר. די ערשטע 30 סעקונדעס זענען שווער צו הערן אָבער דערנאָך הערט מען שוין אַ סך בעסער.
ווי אַ סך ייִדן פֿון זײַן דור איז דער פֿעטער דערצויגן געוואָרן אין אַ פֿרומער שטוב. די משפּחה האָט געוווינט אין סערעט, אין דער בוקאָווינע, און יונה האָט, אַ פּנים, גוט געדענקט דעם נוסח פֿון זײַן טאַטן, חיים, וואָס האָט געדאַוונט סײַ בײַ די וויזשניצער חסידים, סײַ בײַ די סאַדעגערער. ווי עס דערציילט זײַן זון, איציק גאָטעסמאַן, האָט יונהס טאַטע אָנגעשטעלט אַ גמרא־מלמד צו לערנען מיט אים ווײַל קיין ישיבֿה איז אין סערעט נישט געווען. אַפֿילו מיט יאָרן שפּעטער, ווען יונה האָט שוין אויסשטודירט אויף דאָקטער און מער נישט געפֿירט קיין פֿרום לעבן, אַז ער איז געפֿאָרן צו גאַסט צו טאַטע־מאַמע האָט דער טאַטע אָנגעשטעלט פֿאַר אים אַ גמרא־לערער.
אונדזער שרײַבערין מרים האָפֿמאַן דערציילט אַז איר מאַן, מענדל ז״ל, אויך אַן אָפּשטאַמיקער פֿון די וויזשניצער חסידים, האָט געטאָן דאָס זעלבע. נישט געקוקט אויף דעם וואָס ער האָט נאָכן חורבן (בפֿרט נאָך דעם וואָס ער האָט אָנגעוווירן זײַן טאַטע־מאַמע, זײַן 12־יעריק ברידערל בנימעלע און דרײַ שוועסטער אין גאַזקאַמער) אָפּגעוואָרפֿן זײַן אמונה און אַפֿילו געהייסן זײַן פֿרוי נישט פּראַווען קיין שבת אָדער האַלטן אַ כּשרע קיך אויס כּעס צום אייבערשטן, פֿלעגט ער יעדן פּסח זיך אָנטאָן אַ יאַרמלקע און אָפּריכטן דעם גאַנצן סדר אויפֿן אַלטן שטייגער.
אויך מײַן טאַטע האָט יעדעס יאָר אָנגעפֿירט מיט אַ טראַדיציאָנעלן סדר אויף לשון־קודש כאָטש ער איז, אין פֿאַרגלײַך מיט יונהן און מענדלען, דווקא נישט דערצויגן געוואָרן אין אַ פֿרומער היים. ווי אַ דערוואַקסענער האָט ער זיך אַליין אויסגעלערנט ווי אָפּצוריכטן דעם סדר — מסתּמא טאַקע פֿון זײַן שוואָגער יונה — ווײַל ער האָט געוואָלט אַז דער סדר זאָל האָבן אַ דורותדיק פּנים.
מיט אַנדערע ווערטער, אין יענע יאָרן איז געווען אָנגענומען אַז איינער וואָס האַלט זיך פֿאַר אַ פֿולשטענדיקן סעקולערן ייִד קען נאָך אַלץ, כאָטש איין מאָל אַ יאָר, אָנפֿירן מיט אַ רעליגיעזע צערעמאָניע (אַפֿילו אַ דרײַ־שעהיקן ריטואַל ווי דער סדר), כאָטש עס דערמאָנט גאָט אויף שריט און טריט.
אַן אַטעיִסט וואָלט אפֿשר געשטעלט די פֿראַגע: וואָס איז דער שׂכל פֿון מאַכן ברכות און דורכפֿירן רעליגיעזע ריטואַלן ווען מע גלייבט אַליין נישט אין דעם? איז דאָס נישט אַ מין נישט־אויסגעהאַלטנקייט? מײַן טאַטע ע״ה פֿלעגט, למשל, יעדן שבת מאַכן קידוש און המוציא אויף אַזאַ נאַטירלעכן אופֿן, אַז איך בין געווען זיכער ער איז אַ גלייביקער. און דערפֿאַר ווען איך האָב צו 17 יאָר אַליין זיך פֿאַראינטערעסירט אין גײַסטיקע ענינים און געפּרוּווט פֿאַרפֿירן אַ שמועס מיט אים וועגן דעם, האָט ער פּלוצלינג אויסגערופֿן: „פֿאַר וואָס פֿרעגסטו מיך די אַלע שאלות? דו ווייסט דאָך, אַז איך בין אַן אַטעיִסט!‟
„דו ביסט אַן אַטעיִסט?‟ האָב איך איבערגעפֿרעגט, אַ פֿאַרחידושטע. „פֿאַר וואָס זשע האָסטו די אַלע יאָרן געמאַכט קידוש און המוציא יעדן שבת?‟
זײַן ענטפֿער: „צוליב אײַך!‟
לאַנגע יאָרן האָב איך איבערגעקלערט וואָס עס מיינט טאַקע דער „צוליב אײַך‟. הייסט עס, אַז ער אַליין האָט נישט הנאה געהאַט דערפֿון? אַז דאָס איז בלויז געווען אַ מיטל צו פֿאַרבעסערן די שאַנסן אַז זײַנע קינדער זאָלן זיך שטאַרק אידענטיפֿיצירט ווי ייִדן?
אַז איך קלער איצט וועגן דעם, זעט מיר אויס אַז עס זענען מסתּמא געווען עטלעכע סיבות פֿאַר וואָס די דרײַ וועלטלעכע ייִדן (צוויי פֿון זיי — געשוווירענע אַטעיִסטן) און אַ סך אַנדערע פֿון זייער דור, זענען געווען גרייט אָנצופֿירן מיט אַ רעליגיעזן סדר. ערשטנס, ווי מײַן טאַטע האָט געזאָגט, האָבן זיי עס געטאָן פֿאַר זייערע קינדערס וועגן. ס׳שטייט דאָך בפֿירוש געשריבן אין דער הגדה: „והגדת לבנך — זאָלסט דערציילן דײַנע קינדער וואָס ס׳איז געשען אין לאַנד מצרים‟.
נו, אויב אַזוי, האָבן זיי דאָך געקענט פּשוט דערציילן די געשיכטע פֿון די ייִדן אין מצרים און זייער באַפֿרײַונג אויף אַ סעקולערן אופֿן, אָן צו דערמאָנען גאָט בכלל. זיי האָבן געקענט ניצן די הגדה אַרויסגעגעבן פֿונעם אַרבעטער־רינג אָדער אַן אַנדער סעקולערער ייִדישער אינסטיטוציע. זיי האָבן דאָס אָבער נישט געטאָן. יאָ, אויפֿן סדר־טיש זענען טאַקע געלעגן די וועלטלעכע הגדות, כּדי מע זאָל קענען זינגען בציבור די שיינע מאָדערנע ייִדישע לידער ווי אַבֿרהם רייזענס „אויפֿן ניל‟, דוד עדעלשטאַדטס „אין דעם לאַנד פֿון פּיראַמידן‟ און יצחק לוקאָווסקיס „חד גדיא‟. די וועלטלעכע הגדה איז אָבער בלויז געווען אַ צוגאָב צום סדר, נישט דער הויפּטטעקסט.
מיט אַנדערע ווערטער, די אָ דרײַ וועלטלעכע ייִדיש־רעדנדיקע ייִדן האָבן געוואָלט ביידע: סײַ דעם כּמעט צוויי טויזנט־יאָריקן נוסח, סײַ די וועלטלעכע ייִדישע עלעמענטן.
אויב אַזוי איז די כּוונה, אַ פּנים, געווען עפּעס שטאַרקערס ווי בלויז איבערגעבן די געשיכטע פֿון יציאת־מצרים. ס׳איז אויך געווען אַן אופֿן צו ווײַזן דעם ייִנגערן דור ווי רײַך און ווי טיף איז די ייִדישע טראַדיציע; אַז ייִדיש איז נישט בלויז אַ לשון נאָר אַ גאַנצע קולטור, וואָס איז אָנגעזאַפּט מיט רעליגיעזן וויסן; אַז אַ ייִד דאַרף קענען, אָדער כאָטש זײַן היימיש מיט, דעם רעליגיעזן אַספּעקט פֿון דער ייִדישער טראַדיציע, אַפֿילו אויב ער אַליין איז נישט קיין פֿרומער.
פֿון מײַן זײַט בין איך גאָר צופֿרידן וואָס איציק גאָטעסמאַן האָט אָנגעהאַלטן די רעקאָרדירונג פֿון זײַן טאַטן. איצט קען איך — און ווער נאָך עס וויל נאָר — זיך אויסלערנען דעם סדר־נוסח פֿון די אַמאָליקע בוקאָווינער ייִדן און דערבײַ באַרײַכערן דעם אייגענעם סדר.
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Iran War Increases Threat to Sweden, Security Service Says
Swedish Security Service Chief Charlotte von Essen speaks next to Fredrik Hallstroem, chief of operations, during a press conference where the Swedish Security Service (SAPO) presents the situational picture of the country’s security, in Stockholm, Sweden, March 18, 2026. Photo: TT News Agency/Claudio Bresciani via REUTERS
Sweden‘s Security Service (SAPO) warned on Wednesday of increased threats to the Nordic nation from the war in Iran, including risks to Jewish targets, as it released its annual national security assessment.
“History has shown that a desperate and pressured regime can be a dangerous regime,” SAPO operative chief Fredrik Hallstrom told a press conference, referring to the US-Israeli war on Iran.
Iran has long been considered a serious threat, and Swedish authorities have noted how criminal networks – already at the center of a decade-long surge in gang-related violence – have been exploited by state actors to carry out attacks.
“The US-Israeli military operation against Iran, and the countermeasures carried out by Iran, have increased the threat against American, Israeli, and Jewish targets in Sweden,” Security Service Chief Charlotte von Essen said in the report.
In recent years, the agency has also highlighted threats from China and, above all, Russia, which it describes as increasingly willing to take risks in support of its war in Ukraine — including through hybrid operations across Europe.
“Overall, we expect that the threat levels against Sweden will continue to deteriorate in the coming years,” von Essen said, adding that Russia was regarded as a primary driver.
While it is difficult to determine what can be linked to a particular actor, Sweden assesses that Russia is behind several sabotage incidents in Europe targeting critical infrastructure, the security service said. Moscow has denied any involvement.
The agency said it has reviewed hundreds of cases of suspected sabotage in Sweden, including of underwater cables, electricity substations and water-treatment facilities.
“It has so far not been possible to link any physical sabotage to a foreign power,” it said.
The comments came as Iran executed a Swedish citizen on Wednesday, according to Sweden‘s foreign minister, who added that she had summoned the Iranian ambassador in Stockholm to condemn the decision.
The person, who was not named, was arrested in Iran in June of last year and Sweden has repeatedly raised the case with Iranian officials, Foreign Minister Maria Malmer Stenergard said.
“The death penalty is an inhumane, cruel, and irreversible punishment. Sweden, together with the rest of the EU, condemns its application in all circumstances,” Stenergard said.
The legal proceedings leading up to the execution did not meet the standards of due process, she added.
The European Union’s foreign policy chief Kaja Kallas condemned the execution in a statement on Wednesday evening.
“The appalling human rights situation in Iran and the alarming increase in executions are intolerable and show the regime’s true colors,” she said, sending condolences to the family of the citizen.
The Swedish foreign ministry and the Iranian embassy in Stockholm did not immediately respond to a request for comment when contacted by Reuters via phone and email.
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Israel Doubles Troops in Hezbollah Fight, Searches Homes in South Lebanon
Israeli soldiers walk next to military vehicles on the Israeli side of the Israel-Lebanon border, amid escalation between Hezbollah and Israel, and amid the US-Israeli conflict with Iran, in northern Israel, March 16, 2026. Photo: REUTERS/Avi Ohayon
Israel has more than doubled the number of troops along its border with Lebanon since March 1 and they are searching homes in southern Lebanese villages that the military has ordered evacuated, a senior Israeli commander said on Wednesday.
As Israeli warplanes pound Beirut in operations against Hezbollah that have become the deadliest spillover of the US-Israeli war on Iran, heavy smoke could be seen rising from villages in southern Lebanon as troops fired artillery across the border.
Hundreds of thousands of Lebanese have fled southern Lebanon since Israel ordered people to clear the area south of the Litani River, viewed by Israel as a stronghold of Iran-backed terrorist group Hezbollah. The Shi’ite Islamist group has been firing rockets toward Israel since joining the war in support of Iran on March 2.
‘DEFENSIVE POSITIONS’ INSIDE LEBANON
“The plan is to make sure that Hezbollah does not have military infrastructure,” said the commander, whose name was withheld by the Israeli military on security grounds.
Speaking to Reuters in Eilon, an Israeli town four kilometers from the border, the commander, who is responsible for infantry warfare in Lebanon, declined to say how many troops Israel had now deployed in the area.
Describing the military’s fortifications inside Lebanon as “defensive positions,” he said troops were searching “the villages to see if Hezbollah hid weapons or communications centers.”
Asked if that included searching houses that residents had fled following Israeli orders, the commander said: “In some of the cases they hid their weapons in houses. We have no choice but to make sure that house is not a military installation.”
Two Israeli soldiers have been killed since the start of operations in southern Lebanon, the Israeli military says.
At least 968 people in Lebanon have been killed since the start of Israel‘s attacks, Lebanese authorities say.
Hezbollah has not provided regular updates on deaths among its fighters. On Monday, a Hezbollah official told Reuters that at least 46 had been killed so far.
LEBANESE VILLAGE OF KHIYAM AN INITIAL TARGET
The Israeli military is advancing slowly through southern Lebanon, aiming to completely clear the town of Khiyam as a first step before advancing toward the Litani River, according to a Lebanese security source and a foreign official tracking developments on the ground.
In response to a question on whether Israel intended to establish positions up to the Litani, the commander said it was not his decision. If troops receive orders, he added, they are “prepared to do all kind of operations.”
The Israeli military did not immediately comment on its operations in Khiyam, five kilometers inside the Lebanese border from the Israeli town of Metula.
Along the border near Metula, Reuters saw several Israeli military fortifications dug into hillsides, filled with rows of tanks, armed personnel carriers, and bulldozers.
Smoke rose from Khiyam throughout the day on Wednesday, and many of the buildings on the southern side of the town had been reduced to rubble. A neighboring town remains in ruins from Israel‘s attacks in 2024.
‘EVERY FIVE MINUTES YOU CAN HEAR THE BOMBS’
Israel‘s northern border area with Lebanon is known as the Upper Galilee, its rolling hills offering vantages into southern Lebanese villages now occupied and bombarded by Israeli troops.
Near Metula, Israeli Apache helicopters and jets were making near-constant sorties on Tuesday and Wednesday, with the sounds of rocket fire from Lebanon interspersed with the booms of Israeli artillery fire.
For residents of Israel‘s far north, the current war with Hezbollah has seen less rocket fire than during a year of fighting that ended in 2024.
Hezbollah‘s ability to launch missiles has largely been degraded, but it still retains capacity to strike areas deep inside Israel, Israeli officials say.
Ofer Moskovitz, 60, who works at an avocado farm in the area, and said being so close to the border meant he had little time to run to a bomb shelter when sirens signaled incoming Hezbollah fire.
Near his farm, the military dug out a muddy fortification from where troops fired artillery across the border.
“Every five minutes you can hear the bombs,” he said.