I’ve been aware of the AI revolution for a while now; I even wrote a few blogs about it, because, you know, I like to sound ahead of the curve and all. But truthfully, I wasn’t impressed.
WhatsApp kept nudging me to try Meta AI, so I gave it a spin. I asked it all my deep questions, like, “How do you solve this math problem with decimals? It’s my kid’s third-grade homework and I have no clue,” and, “Can you help me with my son’s Chumash Parsha Puzzler?”
It answered, and its answers were fine, but they were just that: Fine.
Helpful? Sure. Game-changing? Not remotely.
Helpful? Sure. Game-changing? Not remotely.
So I figured we were still years away from anything truly useful. It was cute—but cute doesn’t write your sermons or plan your fundraisers.
Then, a few weeks ago, I finally tried ChatGPT.
And it was like going from dial-up to fiber optics. From black-and-white TV to full-blown 4K Ultra HD. From your cousin’s DJ set at a bar mitzvah to the symphony orchestra at Carnegie Hall.
Suddenly, this thing was writing thank-you letters, speeches, and fundraising appeals. It could even design full itineraries for our wounded soldiers’ trips—down to the last detail.
It became my executive assistant, my creative partner, my editor, my therapist (who, thankfully, doesn’t judge my overuse of commas). It even remembers what I said last week—something my own family still struggles with.
I was hooked.
It was perfect.
I was telling everyone about it—like a proud parent showing off a gifted child.
Until I realized … it isn’t perfect at all.
Because for all its brilliance, ChatGPT has one glaring flaw: It can’t feel.
It doesn’t get choked up when a wounded soldier takes his first step on new legs. It doesn’t stay up at night worrying about a friend. And it definitely doesn’t cry at weddings.
Yes, it can mimic emotion. But it doesn’t have a soul.
And that’s when it hit me: The one thing AI will never replace—is you. Your soul. Your heart. Your messy, emotional, irrational, beautiful humanity.
In a world where everything is becoming automated—where jobs are being replaced by code and relationships by chatbots—there’s one industry that will always survive: imperfection.
Because only humans make mistakes. Only humans love illogically. Only humans cry from joy.
And in Chassidic thought, that’s not a bug—it’s the ultimate feature.
The Baal Shem Tov taught that every Jew carries within them a “chelek Eloka mima’al mamash”—a literal spark of G-dliness. It’s what makes us alive, human, real. It’s what differentiates us from ChatGPT, MetaAi, DeepSeek and Claude.
A machine can search the Torah, but only a soul can live it.
So yes—use the tools. Let AI help you write faster, plan smarter, respond quicker.
But never forget: the sacred stuff still needs a soul.
Because at the end of the day, Chat GPT can’t do a mitzvah or bring Moshiach closer.
Only you can do that.