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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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Spike Lee says his pro-Palestinian NBA All-Star Game fit wasn’t meant as a dig against Deni Avdija
(JTA) — The director Spike Lee says he was not targeting the first Israeli NBA All-Star when he wore a pro-Palestinian outfit to the All-Star Game on Sunday.
Lee’s outfit which featured a keffiyeh-patterned sweater and flag-themed bag strap. Some of his critics charged that he had chosen the outfit especially because Deni Avdija, the Israeli star of the Portland Trail Blazers, was taking the court.
Lee put that idea to rest in a post on Instagram late Tuesday, saying that he had not known Avdija was Israeli because the Trail Blazers are a West Coast team. (Lee is a New York Knicks superfan.)
“There has been some conjecture about what I wore to the games on Saturday and Sunday. The clothes I wore are symbols of my concern for the Palestinian children and civilians, and my utmost belief in human dignity for all humankind,” Lee wrote. “What I wore was not intended as a gesture of hostility to Jewish people or to support violence against anyone, nor was it intended as a comment on the significance of Deni being an an All-Star.”
About his lack of familiarity with Avdija, whose World Team fell short in the round-robin contest featuring 28 NBA stars, Lee added, “He can BALL. NOW I DO KNOW.”
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Eli Sharabi’s ‘Hostage’ memoir named Jewish book of the year
(JTA) — Eli Sharabi’s memoir “Hostage,” recounting his experience in Hamas captivity after the Oct. 7, 2023 attack, has been named Book of the Year by the National Jewish Book Awards, organizers announced Wednesday.
The awards, presented by the Jewish Book Council and considered among the most prestigious honors in Jewish literature, recognize outstanding English-language books of Jewish interest across dozens of categories. Founded in 1950, the program is the longest-running North American awards initiative devoted to Jewish books.
Sharabi’s memoir, which details his abduction from Kibbutz Be’eri and the more than year he spent in captivity, became a bestseller in Israel and was later released in English in the United States.
“This recognition means so much to me, not only personally, but for the memory of my family and all those we lost,” Sharabi said in a statement. “’Hostage’ is my testimony, a story of my survival, written so others could bear witness. I hope it helps ensure that what happened is never forgotten.”
Other major winners reflect the breadth of contemporary Jewish writing, spanning scholarship, fiction, memoir and children’s literature.
In American Jewish studies, Pamela S. Nadell won for “Antisemitism, an American Tradition,” a look at the forms antisemitism took in the country from the early Dutch settlers to the present day. The Russian-born journalist Julia Ioffe took the autobiography and memoir prize for “Motherland: A Feminist History of Modern Russia, from Revolution to Autocracy.” The book blends memoir, journalism and history to examine modern Russia through the lens of women’s experiences.
Jack Fairweather’s “The Prosecutor: One Man’s Battle to Bring Nazis to Justice,” the story of a Jewish judge and Holocaust survivor from Stuttgart who pursued Nazi perpetrators in post-war Germany, won the biography award.
Fiction honors went to Allison Epstein for “Fagin the Thief,” a retelling of the Dickens novel “Oliver Twist” from the perspective of its Jewish antihero, and Zeeva Bukai received the debut fiction prize for “The Anatomy of Exile,” about the multigenerational echoes of a secret love affair between an Israeli Jewish woman and a Palestinian poet.
The Hebrew fiction in translation category recognized “Dog,” by Yishay Ishi Ron, translated by Yardenne Greenspan, which also earned a selection in the book club category. The novella’s protagonist is an Israeli combat veteran haunted by his service in one of the Gaza campaigns prior to Oct. 7.
This year’s awards arrive as the Jewish discourse has been reshaped by the aftermath of Oct. 7, a global surge in antisemitism and the polarizing debate over Israel that followed. Last year’s winner for book of the year, “10/7: 100 Human Stories” by Lee Yaron, was also an account of the attacks and their aftermath.
Jewish anxieties in light of Oct. 7 are the subject of Sarah Hurwitz’s “As A Jew: Reclaiming Our Story From Those Who Blame, Shame, and Try to Erase Us,” which won in the contemporary Jewish life and practice category. Hurwitz, a speechwriter in the Obama administration, provides a primer on Jewish history, texts and practices in order to counter what she calls misinformation among Jews, their allies and their critics.
“Especially amid rising antisemitism and Jewish authors facing increased scrutiny, Jewish books have the power to create and sustain community,” said Naomi Firestone-Teeter, CEO of Jewish Book Council, in a statement announcing the winners.
In “Hostage,” Sharabi writes about the terror of his abduction and the daily struggle to survive after Hamas fighters stormed Kibbutz Be’eri. He would spend 491 days in captivity, much of it in tunnels beneath Gaza, before being released on Feb. 8, 2025, as part of a negotiated deal. Throughout the ordeal, Sharabi clung to the hope of rescue, writing: ‘I refuse to let myself drown in pain. I am surviving. I am a hostage. In the heart of Gaza. A stranger in a strange land. In the home of a Hamas-supporting family. And I’m getting out of here. I have to. I’m getting out of here. I’m coming home.”
Other nonfiction winners included Elissa Bemporad’s “Jews in the Soviet Union: A History: Revolution, Civil War, and New Ways of Life, 1917–1930, Volume 1,” which won in history; Anna Hájková’s “People Without History are Dust: Queer Desire in the Holocaust,” honored in Holocaust studies alongside translator William Ross Jones; and Tobias Schiff’s “Return to the Place I Never Left,” which won the Holocaust memoir award, with Dani James recognized for translation.
Awards recognizing contemporary Jewish thought and scholarship included Lawrence Grossman’s “Living in Both Worlds: Modern Orthodox Judaism in the United States, 1945–2025,” and Debra Kaplan and Elisheva Carlebach’s “A Woman Is Responsible for Everything: Jewish Women in Early Modern Europe,” which won multiple prizes, including scholarship and women’s studies.
In children’s and young readers’ categories, Alison Goldberg’s “The Remembering Candle,” illustrated by Selina Alko, won for children’s picture book; Janice Shapiro’s “Honoria: A Fortuitous Friendship” took the prize for middle grade literature; and Eugene Yelchin’s graphic memoir “I Wish I Didn’t Have to Tell You This” won in young adult literature.
Other winners include Miriam Udel’s “Modern Jewish Worldmaking Through Yiddish Children’s Literature,” which won in education and Jewish identity; Raegan Steinberg, Alexandre Cohen and Evelyne Eng’s “Arthurs: Home of the Nosh,” honored in food writing and cookbooks; Ariella Aïsha Azoulay’s “Golden Threads,” which won for Sephardic culture; Elizabeth E. Imber’s “Uncertain Empire,” for writing based on archival material; and Aharon Shabtai’s “Requiem & Other Poems,” translated by Peter Cole, which won the poetry award.
The winners will be honored at an awards ceremony in New York next month hoisted by the entertainer Jonah Platt. At the ceremony, journalist Sam Feedman will be presented with the council’s Mentorship Award, named in honor of Carolyn Starman Hessel, longtime former director of the JBC. Freedman, a former New York Times reporter and professor at the Columbia Journalism School, taught a popular course that helped over 100 students turn their ideas into books, including “When They Come for Us, We’ll Be Gone: The Epic Struggle to Save Soviet Jewry,” Gal Beckerman’s 2010 history of the Soviet Jewry movement.
“Sam Freedman changed my life as a writer,” Beckerman said in a statement. “He believed in me before I believed in myself, pushed me to take my work seriously, and opened doors I didn’t even know existed. With tough love and deep generosity, he guided me through the daunting process of writing a book as if it were his own. What he did for me, he did for dozens of writers.”
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Andorra’s tiny Jewish community reels after local carnival features mock execution of Israeli effigy
(JTA) — An annual festival in Andorra drew condemnation from the country’s small Jewish community after an effigy bearing the Israeli flag was staged in a mock trial and then hung and shot.
The incident was part of the traditional Catalan festival Carnestoltes, which occurs yearly before Lent, the 40-day period that precedes Easter. At Monday’s festival in Andorra, where a mock king is typically tried and burned, organizers instead used an effigy wearing blue with the Israeli flag painted on its face.
During the festivities, the Israeli effigy was symbolically tried, hung, shot and burned, according to social media posts and a report in the Israeli outlet YNet.
ABERRANTE muestra de antisemitismo en Andorra durante el carnaval. pic.twitter.com/GeIdF635wd
— Dani Lerer (@danilerer) February 16, 2026
The incident drew outcry from the microstate’s tiny Jewish community, which only just got its first full-time rabbi, a Chabad emissary, in the last two years.
“This is a ritual they perform every year as part of carnival, where they mock many things,” Jewish Andorra resident Esther Pujol told YNet. “This time they dressed the effigy in the colors of the Israeli flag, with a Star of David on its face. They put it on trial, sentenced it to death and carried out the sentence by shooting and burning it. It is completely unacceptable.”
Pujol told the outlet that it was the first time she had seen the festival include anti-Israel or antisemitic elements, and that she had contacted Andorran lawmakers to express her outrage. The mayor of Encamp, the city where the incident took place, and local politicians took part in the ceremony, according to YNet.
The European Jewish Congress also decried the display in a post on X, writing that the mock-execution was a “deeply disturbing act that risks normalizing antisemitism and incitement.”
“This incident requires unequivocal condemnation, full clarification of responsibilities and concrete measures to ensure that antisemitism is never tolerated in public celebrations or institutions in Andorra or anywhere in Europe,” the post continued.
Other Lent festivities have also been the site of antisemitism in recent years, with Belgian celebrations in 2019 featuring antisemitic caricatures and a Spanish parade in 2020 featuring a Holocaust-themed display.
The incident marks a rare instance of open turmoil for Jews in Andorra, which is nestled between France and Spain in the Pyrenees mountains. While France and Spain have seen widespread pro-Palestinian protests and antisemitic incidents in recent years, Andorra has largely avoided similar tensions.
In September, Andorra formally announced its recognition of Palestinian statehood alongside a host of other European nations during the United Nations General Assembly in New York City.
But local Jews have also sought to remain under the radar, considering that Andorra officially prohibits non-Catholic houses of worship. The Jewish community calls their gathering place a community center rather than a synagogue. In 2023, Andorra’s parliament elected a Jewish lawmaker for the first time.
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