Subtitled "Elon Musk, the Baal Shem Tov, and the Purpose of Human Progress", this piece by Rabbi Paul Bloom is designed to provoke some serious thought. Read it carefully and see how far it applies to you.
I find myself inspired by two visions of humanity’s future. One
comes from the world of artificial intelligence and robotics, expressed with
extraordinary ambition by Elon Musk. The other comes from our Jewish tradition:
the hope for a world filled with knowledge of Hashem, spiritual purpose, and
lovingkindness. As someone whose life has included both technology and Torah, I
believe there is a profound conversation to be had between these visions.
Musk envisions AI and robotics creating an age of extraordinary
material abundance. Machines could perform much of the labor that consumes our
days, while increasingly capable intelligence could accelerate discovery and
help solve difficult problems. At the World Economic Forum in January 2026, he
described AI and robotics as a path toward abundance for everyone, while
acknowledging their risks. He also predicted intelligence surpassing human
capabilities. These are forecasts, whose timing and fulfillment remain
uncertain, but the possibility they raise is remarkable: a future in which far
fewer people must devote their lives to the struggle for basic necessities.
For me, that possibility evokes a much older question. If humanity
were freed from so much of the burden of making a living, what would we do with
the freedom?
Our tradition offers a beautiful expression: “yom shekulo Shabbat”—a
day that is entirely Shabbat. The phrase appears in Mishnah Tamid 7:4, long
before the Baal Shem Tov. It describes an ultimate sacred rest; it is not
simply a prediction that every weekday will acquire the halachic status of Shabbat.
Yet its spiritual image invites us to imagine a life in which the peace,
holiness, and purpose we experience on Shabbat permeate our existence.
Think about what happens in a Jewish home when Shabbat begins. The
work remains unfinished. There are still bills to pay and problems to solve.
Nevertheless, we put down our tools, light the candles, and enter a different
rhythm. We make room for tefillah, Torah, family, hospitality, and
conversation. We remember that our worth reaches far beyond what we earn or
produce.
Shabbat teaches us how to inhabit time that has been released from
work. That lesson may become increasingly important as technology changes the
relationship between labor and livelihood.
The Baal Shem Tov brings another essential dimension to this
vision. In his famous letter to his brother-in-law, Rabbi Gershon of Kitov, he
describes a spiritual encounter in which he asked Mashiach when he would come.
The answer connected redemption with the spreading of the Baal Shem Tov’s
teachings and spiritual wellsprings outward. The image is powerful: spiritual
understanding reaching beyond its familiar boundaries and touching lives far
away.
Here, too, technology presents an extraordinary possibility. A
person isolated from Jewish learning can hear a shiur. Someone who struggles
with a language can receive help understanding a text. A student can explore
questions that might otherwise remain unasked. AI could assist teachers in
reaching learners with different abilities and backgrounds. Such tools require
accuracy and responsible guidance, but they can widen access to learning in
ways earlier generations could scarcely imagine.
I see this as a possible modern vehicle for carrying spiritual
wellsprings outward. That is an application of the Baal Shem Tov’s image,
rather than a claim that he predicted artificial intelligence. The wisdom still
needs teachers, communities, and people who live what they teach.
The clearest bridge between material abundance and spiritual
purpose may be found in the Rambam. In Hilchot Melachim 12:4–5, he explains
that the sages yearned for the Messianic era so they could pursue Torah and
wisdom free of oppression and distraction. He then describes a world without
famine or war, with plentiful goods, in which humanity’s central occupation is
knowing Hashem.
The connection is striking. Abundance creates room for a higher
purpose. Imagine the parent who can spend more time with a child, the retiree
who can learn without financial anxiety, or the young adult who can devote part
of the week to helping others. Imagine communities with the resources and time
to welcome strangers, support families, and care for their elderly members.
These are deeply human possibilities.
Yet greater productive capacity will not automatically produce such
a society. Goods can become plentiful while access remains unequal. Work can
diminish while loneliness grows. Free time can be consumed by distraction. A
person whose livelihood disappears may need a new source of income, community,
and dignity. If we hope for abundance that benefits everyone, we must help
people through the transition and ensure that its fruits are broadly shared.
This is where Torah gives our optimism direction. We must ask
whether our inventions protect human dignity, whether they serve those with the
least power, and whether they help us become more responsible toward one
another. Superintelligence describes a hoped-for level of machine capability.
Wisdom also asks what deserves to be done.
Chesed will remain essential even in a world of remarkable
machines. A robot might help an elderly person with household tasks. That
assistance could be a tremendous blessing. The time it saves could allow a
family member or volunteer to sit beside that person, listen to a story, and
offer companionship. A community could use AI to coordinate meals for someone
recovering from illness, then use the hours saved to visit. Technology can
extend our capacity to care; we must choose to turn that capacity into loving
attention.
Nor should we identify any technological milestone with the arrival
of Mashiach. The Rambam cautions that the details of future redemption cannot
be fully known in advance. We can welcome progress with gratitude and hope
while remaining humble about how Hashem’s purposes unfold.
What excites me is the opportunity before us. We can begin
preparing for greater abundance by cultivating the qualities that make freedom
fruitful: disciplined learning, generosity, strong families, meaningful
communities, and devotion to Hashem. We need not wait for a robot in every home
to make more room for Torah or to notice a neighbor who needs help.
I believe AI can help transform the world for goodness. Realizing
that hope will require us to bring our spiritual aspirations into the choices
we make about technology. The engineer can help free human beings from
exhausting burdens. The teacher can help them discover what to do with that
freedom. Each has a vital contribution to make.
Perhaps the most precious abundance will be the abundance of time
we can give: time to learn, time to listen, time to serve, and time to
recognize the divine image in another person.
That is the future I hope we will help build—a world whose growing
material blessings sustain a richer spiritual life, and whose everyday rhythm
begins to reflect the holiness, chesed, and peace of Shabbat.
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