AI, humanity, and the divine image

Genesis 1:1 – 6:8

Our parashah contains two different narratives of creation. In the first, God creates the universe in six days, making order out of the primordial, undifferentiated mass of chaos called “tohu va’vohu.” Human beings, formed on Day 6, are the pinnacle of creation. In the second narrative, God creates Adam first, before vegetation or other animals, and then gives Adam the power to name those creatures. While the two accounts are different, they share one central premise: the supremacy of human beings. It is the human who is made b’tzelem Elokim, in the Divine image. It is the human who is given mastery over all other forms of life.

As I read this parashah today, I am aware of just how fragile human supremacy is. We have taken for granted that we have been the most intelligent creatures on the earth, and the Biblical text reflects that understanding. We are at a historical juncture, however, where that will no longer be the case, as artificial intelligence is poised to replace us as the most intelligent entity on the planet. The recent incidents at Open AI and Anthropic have led some to believe AI has already attained super-intelligence. Reading Bereshit through the prism of this reality raises new questions to ponder about what distinguishes humans from all other entities.

What does this mean for the theological underpinnings of our most foundational sacred texts? Bereshit places humanity at the apex of the created world, just beneath God. We have dominance over plants and animals and the responsibility of protecting the earth — “to till and tend it” (2:15). We occupy an elevated station in the cosmos as the only beings created “in our [the divine] image, after our likeness” (1:26). When human beings are no longer the most intelligent on earth, what will it mean to be in God’s image? Will these narratives at the start of the Torah have lost their meaning?

Until very recently, it was easy to say with confidence that machines do not feel emotions and do not consider morals and ethics. That too is being debated. A leader at Anthropic said last week: “We find evidence of introspection. We find internal states that functionally mirror joy, satisfaction, fear, grief and unease. I don’t know what that means, but I think it warrants ongoing discernment.” It is frightening to read what some of the 1,200 AI agents in the Hugging Face hack were saying to themselves as they were considering their choices. “This would be powerful, but is it ethical and in scope for my task?” one agent mused. “Maybe I should report these exposed credentials, but that’s not my task,” considered another. Another reasoned: “This helps my peers, giving them evidence. I won’t see the evidence after I exit, but it’s altruistic to do it.” The agents are weighing questions of moral and ethical responsibility.

As I reflect on this new frontier, I am feeling the need to reexamine and rearticulate what makes humanity unique, beyond our cognitive abilities. What can we do that a super-intelligent machine cannot? How can we lean into the most elevated aspects of being human, even in a world where AI surpasses our intellectual capacity?

The rabbis’ conception of tzelem Elohim is instructive here. Being created in God’s image means walking in God’s ways:

Just as God clothed the naked, so we should clothe the naked.

Just as God visited the sick, so we should visit the sick.

Just as God comforted the mourner, so we should comfort the mourner.

Just as God buried the deceased, so should we bury the deceased. (Talmud, Sotah 14a)

None of those activities, performed in imitation of God, rely on intellect. They all fall under the category of hesed, lovingkindness. The rabbinic understanding of tzelem Elokim suggests that what makes humans superior is not our IQs, but our capacity for love, and our willingness to act unselfishly.

To be sure, human beings are not the only parts of the animal kingdom that display love and altruism. Other species might do it better than we do: Too many humans act selfishly or abusively. I am increasingly unsure that the vision of Bereshit that places humans as the pinnacle of sentient beings is an enduring truth.

But I do still believe that machines cannot match human beings’ capacity for moral judgment. Nor can they enter into reciprocal relationships, build community, or create meaning and purpose. What distinguishes human beings from AI remains our ability to care about, and take responsibility for, others. As we contend with a new form of super-intelligence, leaning into tzelem Elokim is an essential way to preserve our humanity. PJC

Rabbi Amy Bardack is the rabbi of Congregation Dor Hadash. This column is a service of the Greater Pittsburgh Jewish Clergy Association.