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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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When a Jewish prisoner died in Ohio in 1918, four fellow inmates left the penitentiary in civilian clothes to ensure he got a proper burial
Jack Nast wanted to be buried in a Jewish cemetery.
He died in April 1918 while incarcerated at the Ohio Penitentiary in Columbus. Little is known about the circumstances that brought him there, but another prisoner, Morris Hess, preserved an account of his final days.
As he lay ill, Nast cried out that he was a Jew, Hess wrote. He expressed pride in Jewish history and its achievements, faith in the teachings of Judaism, and regret that his own life had not lived up to its principles. He wished to receive a burial befitting someone “born in the House of Israel.”
With the aid of others, his request was granted.
Isaac B. Jashenosky and Jacob Myers, two men who regularly visited the Jewish prisoners, were with Nast before he died. Jashenosky, whom the prisoners called “rabbi,” conducted the funeral service at an unidentified Jewish cemetery, likely in Columbus. When Nast’s relatives, whom Hess described as wealthy, refused to contribute toward the expenses, Warden Preston E. Thomas permitted the prison’s Jewish inmates to contribute to a collection for the funeral.
Four prisoners were also allowed to attend the burial in civilian clothing. They listened as Jashenosky delivered his remarks and Nast’s remains were returned to the earth.
“Kaddish was said and will be said every week for him,” Hess wrote.
The account appeared in The American Israelite, a Cincinnati Jewish newspaper, under the heading “Prisoners in Ohio Penitentiary are Grateful.” Hess signed the letter with his name and prison number, 45511.
Jewish life behind prison walls
The men who helped bury Nast were part of a larger effort to sustain Jewish religious life inside Ohio’s prisons. By 1899, prisoners were being excused from work for Jewish holidays and provided with special food. In 1902, about ten Jewish inmates received matzo for Passover. By 1913, religious services were also being arranged at correctional institutions in Mansfield and Lancaster.
In 1915, Charles Albert Rosenbaum wrote to The American Israelite about B’nai B’rith’s efforts to reach Jewish prisoners in Ohio.
For years, Rosenbaum wrote, Jewish prisoners had watched representatives of other faiths visit their institutions, “not with envious but with saddened eyes.” They wondered why their own people had been so neglectful. In prison libraries, they read of “the beauties and the godlike charities of the Jewish peoples,” but turned from those pages, looked at “the cold steel walls of their cells” and doubted.
“How all of this has been changed!” Rosenbaum declared.
Rosenbaum credited Jashenosky, Myers and other Columbus volunteers with organizing visits and religious services. With Warden Thomas’ permission, more than 100 services had been held over the preceding two years, he reported, without guards present.
Hess was among those who recorded these gatherings. In 1917, he described a service attended by Jashenosky and Myers, noting that one visitor, Mrs. I. J. Shatz, had distributed cigars to the prisoners.
Freedom in the penitentiary
In 1920, Hess described Passover services held with the cooperation of Warden Thomas and his wife, Mary Thomas. Women from Columbus’ Ezrath Nosheim Society provided a holiday meal.
Jashenosky preached that although everyone desired liberty, true freedom came through “the awakening of the soul.” He told the prisoners that, “Freedom is not alone a privilege, but a lifelong obligation.”
In December 1921, another prisoner, Harry Joseph, writing on behalf of the Jewish inmates, described the work of B’nai B’rith, the Council of Jewish Women and the Ezrath Nosheim Society.
He recalled the holiday meals that women from Columbus had prepared and served, including a dinner following Yom Kippur services. Their presence, he wrote, reminded the prisoners of “the Jewish fireside with its family love.”
He continued, “The knowledge that someone cares is an incentive to reach the end of this rocky road of adversity and become useful citizens.”
Jashenosky died in April 1930, at the age of 79. Newspapers reported that he had served as a prison chaplain for more than half a century.
Before he died, Jashenosky made one final request. He wanted two Jewish prisoners, Abe Shapiro and Adam Sikorski, to attend his funeral.
Warden Thomas granted permission.
The post When a Jewish prisoner died in Ohio in 1918, four fellow inmates left the penitentiary in civilian clothes to ensure he got a proper burial appeared first on The Forward.
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Houston Astros hire former Team Israel manager Brad Ausmus as skipper
(JTA) — The Houston Astros hired Brad Ausmus as manager, the team announced Wednesday, making the former Team Israel skipper the lone active Jewish manager in Major League Baseball.
This will be Ausmus’ third managerial stint in MLB. He previously led the Detroit Tigers from 2014-2017 and the Los Angeles Angels in 2019. Ausmus, 57, owns a 386-422 career managerial record. He will be introduced at a press conference at Houston’s Daikin Park on Friday.
Ausmus most recently served as the New York Yankees’ bench coach from 2024-2026 and also previously worked in the front offices of the San Diego Padres and Angels. He had interviewed for the Astros’ managerial opening in 2020 and for their general manager role in 2022.
Ausmus spent 10 of his 18 MLB seasons with the Astros. He finished his playing career with a .251 batting average, .325 on-base percentage and .344 slugging percentage. The New Haven, Connecticut, native managed Team Israel during the qualifiers for the 2013 World Baseball Classic, served on its coaching staff in the 2023 WBC and managed the team in the 2026 tournament.
“Regarding Aus, he is just a perfect big league manager in every way and there are not many people you can say that about,” Nate Fish, the CEO of Israel Baseball Americas and a former Israel player and coach, told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency. “He is smart. He is calm. He has the experience. He is a good fit for any team but a perfect fit in Houston considering he played 10 years there.”
Fish also pointed out that “this is the second time [Ausmus] has been hired to manage in the big leagues following a stint managing Team Israel. Just sayin’. There is a pattern!”
Israel won two of its four games in the 2026 tournament, securing a spot in the 2030 competition.
“I am honored and excited to take on this role,” Ausmus said before the March tournament. “I’ve been incredibly proud to be part of Team Israel’s journey. My focus remains exactly where it has always been: building a cohesive, competitive team that proudly represents Israel on the world stage. We have a solid foundation, and I’m ready to hit the ground running with our talented staff and players to achieve our goals for 2026.”
Ausmus, a former catcher, played for the Astros from 1997-1998 and again from 2001-2008. He won three Gold Glove Awards for his defense with Houston and was an All-Star in 1999 with Detroit. His 1,971 career MLB appearances are the most ever by a Jewish player, according to the Jewish Baseball Museum.
“I am very excited to be back in Houston,” Ausmus said in a statement. “The Astros and the city of Houston have been a huge part of my life, and I’m thrilled to create a new chapter as the team’s manager. I can’t wait to get to work.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post Houston Astros hire former Team Israel manager Brad Ausmus as skipper appeared first on The Forward.
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Netanyahu’s son calls dad’s opponents ‘saboteurs’ in book to be distributed by Simon & Schuster
(JTA) — Simon & Schuster will distribute a new book by Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s son, which says that foreign and domestic Israeli enemies coordinated to unseat his father.
Yair Netanyahu, a 35-year-old political activist, has authored “Two-Front War: Inside Israel’s Fight for Survival — Against Foreign Enemies and Domestic Saboteurs.” The book is set to be released by RatPac Press in March 2027.
A blurb for the book on Simon & Schuster’s website said Yair Netanyahu was “a proud Jew and a devoted Zionist” who discovered that Israeli institutions conspired against his father.
“When the institutions that govern Israel — its prosecutors, judges, intelligence bureaucracy, military command, media networks, and foreign-funded NGOs — turned their attention toward removing his father from power, he found himself inside a Kafkaesque system that few citizens ever see,” the description said.
The prime minister has been on trial since 2020 in three corruption cases, facing charges of bribery, fraud and breach of trust, which he has denied. Yair Netanyahu has alleged that prosecutors and police involved in his father’s trials sought to stage a “coup” and committed “treason.”
The blurb also said the Oct. 7, 2023, Hamas attacks on Israel “unmaskted” [sic] an “alliance between neo-Nazi, radical Islamist movements, and far-left ideological networks,” which targeted Israel as the first obstacle in “a broader project to destabilize the West and erod [sic] the foundations of free civilization.”
Yair Netanyahu is a divisive figure in Israel known for social media posts that back his father’s politics and can advance far-right conspiracy theories. In 2017, he drew international condemnation for sharing an image that featured Jewish philanthropist George Soros controlling his father’s political adversaries, a post that earned him praise from the neo-Nazi website The Daily Stormer. He alleged this week that Israel’s Oct. 27 election was rigged against his father, saying the vote was “stolen by enemy states that bribed Arab voters.”
Yair Netanyahu’s publisher, RatPac Press, is part of RatPac Entertainment, founded by filmmaker Brett Ratner and Australian billionaire James Packer. Ratner immigrated to Israel in 2023 after sexual misconduct allegations stalled his Hollywood career, though he denied the allegations. He was a special guest of Benjamin Netanyahu at the United Nations General Assembly in September 2023 and posted a photo of them together on Instagram.
Packer was named in one of Benjamin Netanyahu’s corruption indictments, which alleged that he gave the prime minister and his wife gifts of cigars and champagne between 2014 and 2016. He told Australian Federal Police agents in 2017 that he was “happy to give him presents, many times at his request and his wife Sara’s request,” according to Israel’s Channel 10. Packer sold his stake in RatPac in 2017.
Simon & Schuster and RatPac Entertainment did not respond to requests for comment.
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post Netanyahu’s son calls dad’s opponents ‘saboteurs’ in book to be distributed by Simon & Schuster appeared first on The Forward.
