What the Tower of Babel Can Teach Us About AI | 10@9 | 2026.10.16

Good morning. Today is Friday, October 16, 2026. Recently, Pope Leo wrote an encyclical letter, a long essay, titled Magnifica Humanitas, and the subtitle is On Safeguarding the Human Person in the Time of Artificial Intelligence. So this is obviously a very practical topic. Many of us are thinking about AI, how it will work in our lives, what it will do to our lives. Now in this essay, he provides, within the essay, he provides what I consider to be an original, modern, and meaningful commentary on the narrative in our total portion about Miquel de Beauville, the Tower of Babel. Now obviously, the Pope's goal is to teach his religion and he uses terms, even terms that we may be familiar with, but he uses them in a way that reflect the ideas of his religion. So I want to borrow some of his ideas and words to present what I hope will be a thoroughly Jewish interpretation of this narrative and say something about modern society that I think is very, very important for us to understand. He writes at the beginning, we must ask God for the wisdom to interpret the great trends of our time, particularly technological advances. In recent years, it has become increasingly evident how rapidly and profoundly digitalization, artificial intelligence, and robotics are changing our world. For this very reason, crucial questions impose themselves and can no longer be avoided. Where are we going? Toward what goal do we wish to orient ourselves? What direction should we choose as a people and as a human community? So to do this, which I think is quite brilliant, he contrasts two biblical passages. Both of them are about building cities. Our Torah portion, which is about building the city of Bavel and the tower that goes along with it. And a passage from Sefer Nachemiah, the work of prophecy in Tanakh, the book of Nachemiah. Nachemiah was a contemporary of Ezra. They lived during and just after the Purim story, during the exile of the Jewish people to Bavel. Remember, the Jewish people after the First Basin of Egypt was destroyed. The Jewish people were exiled to Bavel. And then, shortly after the Purim story, Ezra and Nachemiah bring part of the Jewish people back to Israel to rebuild the second base of Mughalsh. Nachemiah in particular is in charge of overseeing the building or the rebuilding of Jerusalem. Two scenes from the Bible. The Tower of Bavel in Arbarsha and the rebuilding the walls of Jerusalem in the Sefer of Nachemiah. So he writes, fearing about Arbarsha, fearing being scattered across the earth, they sought to guarantee stability and power for themselves, and above all to make a name for themselves. It was an impressive feat. A single language, we've discussed this several times, a single technology, the technological innovations that were necessary in order to build these structures were quite impressive. However, the project concealed the profound danger. It was a project conceived without reference to God. That's Leo's understanding of why God was not happy with this. When a city is built on pride and the claim of self-sufficiency, communication breaks down, languages are confused and people no longer understand each other. The result is not unity but dispersion. Bavel thus reveals the limits of any effort that however grandiose arises from self-affirmation that sacrifices human dignity for efficiency and aspires to reach heaven without God's blessing. If you try to reach heaven without God's blessing, if you try to undertake something without the goal of being able to serve God, it will not endure. That's the lesson of the Migdal Bavel, according to Leo. The Book of Nachemiah on the other hand, it starts at a time of great vulnerability in the history of the Jewish people. After an exile into Bavel, some of the Jewish people remain. You remember we discussed this, it's not germane to our discussion. Most of the Jews stayed in Bavel, was a smaller group that came to Israel. But the city was still in ruins. The walls collapsed. And before Nachemiah took action to start rebuilding the city and the base of Migdal, the holy temple inside, he fasted, he prayed, and then he did not immediately impose his own solutions. But he convened the families of those who had come back and assigned each of them a section of work to do and listened to their concerns and coordinated their efforts. This narrative shows how the city is reborn, not through the initiative of one man, like Nimrod that we discussed a few days ago. But through the shared responsibility of all, it's an undertaking with God at the center, the rebuilding of Jerusalem, which rebuilds relationships before rebuilding with stones. This is critical. It's the relationships between people and between people and God that come before the technological innovations. Thus, Jerusalem rediscovers a common language, not one of uniformity, but the harmony that arises when all persons assume their own role and recognize that their strength comes from God. Technology has the power to heal, to connect, to educate, to protect, but it can also divide and exclude and create new forms of injustice. In and of itself, technology is not the answer to any of humanity's problems. It is not inherently evil or good. It is a tool. Therefore, the primary choice is not between a yes or no to technology, but rather between constructing Buvel or building Jerusalem. Buvel and Jerusalem both involve great collective building projects. Both require cooperation and coordination. The problem at Buvel wasn't cooperation. Remember, one language, one project, it was the demand for sameness. And we discussed this from the point of view of Roshan Shunfoil Hirsch a couple of days ago. We must then avoid the Buvel syndrome. That's the name that he gives us, namely the idolatry to profit in a way that sacrifices the weak. A uniformity that neutralizes differences. That's not the goal. The pretense that a single language, even a digital one, can translate everything, even the mystery of a person, into data and performance. AI presents us with the risk of dehumanization, of building a future that excludes God and reduces others to a means. Instead, let us choose the way of N'Chem'ya, which highlights the importance of working together to make the city of God, Yerushalayim. Again, this part is similar to the idea that we mentioned of Roshan Shunfoil Hirsch the other day. And he goes on to say, building Yerushalayim is therefore a model of building from the common good. Now here I want to add my own point, because our sages tell us that the name of the city, Jerusalem Yerushalayim, comes from two words. Each of them used in a different place in Safer Baratius, the book of Genesis, to describe that city. And so these two words form the completed meaning of what Jerusalem is supposed to be. And the two words are Yere, awe, reverence, respect for God, and shalom, peace. Leo writes, building a city founded on the common good implies first and foremost building on a firm relationship with God. There must be Yere, there must be an awareness of God, a respect for God, an awe for God. And second, building for the common good means accepting the limits of humanity. All too often we place our hope in unlimited upgrades, in forms of progress that exacerbates inequalities, and in immediate solutions incapable of healing people's wounds. To use our terms, building for the common good means building a place of shalom. And these two ideas put together, serving God and creating peace, become the goal and the essence of Jerusalem, as opposed to Bovell. Bovell and Jerusalem both involve great collective building projects. The problem at Bovell was not cooperation, it was the demand for sameness. Bovell teaches us what false unity looks like. N'chemia, rebuilding Jerusalem teaches us what genuine unity can accomplish if God is at the center and the goal is shalom. Later, Pope Leo turned specifically to artificial intelligence and the connection to these two types of building. The danger of humanity becoming a victim of its own achievements has been known for centuries. The most extraordinary scientific progress, the most astounding technological feats, and the most amazing economic growth, unless accompanied by authentic moral and social progress will in the long run go against man, and we see this all around us. If technological development advances without a corresponding ethical and social progress, the result will be an increase in means without a growth in humanity, having more without being more. And that is precisely the danger that we are in with AI today. I noticed some news articles recently in the last few days about somehow trying to get religious scholars, including Jewish rabbis, involved in creating the algorithms of a certain AI product to be able to include moral and spiritual goals. We'll see what happens with that. But so far, AI is largely about having more rather than being more. And therefore, the criteria by which we assess whether this power of these digital infrastructures is positive or negative is more like Bovell or Yerushalayim. We need to look at the following. Does it truly foster participation and responsibility? Does it protect the vulnerable? Does it ensure fair access to opportunities? Does it remain directed toward the good of all and toward God? Those are the criteria by which we need to evaluate this. Bovell represents technology and collective intelligence organized around power, uniformity, and domination. Jerusalem represents collective achievement guided by human dignity, individual responsibility, diversity, and a shared moral and spiritual purpose. In other words, the same extraordinary technological capability could contribute to either kind of society. The sin of the people above all was not that human beings develop remarkable technology. It was that they allowed their technological achievement and collective ambition to overwhelm the value of the individual and to ignore God. Humanity created by God in all its grandeur is today facing a pivotal choice, either to construct a new tower of Bovell or to build the city in which God and humanity dwell together. The city of Jerusalem. I think this is a powerful understanding of what our total portion is trying to teach us, especially as it relates to one of the most pressing practical issues of our day. Just by the way, parenthetically, I want to add that this week it was learned, we learned that Pope Leo now suffers from lung cancer. He recently underwent surgery. And so I want to wish Pope Leo a rufus lemur, a complete healing. My friends, I wish you a great day and a wonderful Shabbos, and I look forward to seeing you soon in person.