We are living through a moment obsessed with intelligence.
Artificial intelligence now writes, predicts, composes, and diagnoses – increasingly decides. It learns our habits, mirrors our language, and shapes our attention with uncanny precision. Yet long before machines learned to think, Jewish tradition asked a deeper question: What kind of intelligence animates the world itself? In the mystical teachings of the Torah, the Zohar, and Hassidut, intelligence is not merely computational. It is divine intelligence – the living wisdom through which creation speaks, time unfolds, and human choice becomes a bridge between heaven and Earth.
The contrast between artificial intelligence (AI) and divine intelligence (DI) is not a competition. It is a conversation – sometimes harmonious, sometimes unsettling – about what it means to know, to choose, and to be responsible in a world that is rapidly delegating judgment to machines. That conversation lies at the heart of a new YouTube master class which explores how ancient Jewish wisdom already mapped the same reality that modern technology is racing to map.
Reading the world as text
One of the foundational ideas in Jewish mysticism is that the world is legible. The Midrash in Bereishit Rabbah 1:1 teaches that God “looked into the Torah and created the world,” suggesting that reality itself is a kind of living scroll – you could even say “program.” Every object, moment, and encounter is a letter in an ongoing text. Meaning is not imposed from above; it is embedded within creation, waiting to be read.
This metaphor resonates powerfully today. Technologists often describe reality as being code-based – systems governed by rules, patterns, and signals. AI thrives on this assumption. Feed it enough data, and it will detect the structure beneath the noise. But here the paths diverge. Artificial intelligence reads the world from the outside, identifying correlations; divine intelligence reads from within, revealing purpose.
The difference matters. A system trained on behavior can predict what we will do; divine intelligence asks who we are becoming.
Modern systems promise clarity: more data, more transparency, fewer blind spots. Yet anyone who has interacted seriously with AI knows about black boxes – decisions made through processes even their creators cannot fully explain. Jewish mysticism has its own language for this opacity, but it does not treat it as a flaw. Darkness, in the mystical tradition, is intentional.
The Kabbalistic idea of tzimtzum – God’s self-contraction – teaches that hiddenness is what makes freedom possible. A seed must rot in the soil before it can sprout. Absence is often the disguise of growth. Where AI engineers work to eliminate uncertainty, DI makes room for it, trusting that concealment invites responsibility.
This reframing is urgently relevant. When we outsource judgment to systems optimized for efficiency, we risk forgetting that uncertainty is not always a problem to be solved: Sometimes it is the space in which conscience forms.
Sparks in ordinary life
Jewish mysticism insists that meaning is not reserved for mountaintops or monasteries. The Zohar describes a cosmic shattering that scattered sparks of holiness throughout the material world. Human life, then, becomes a daily ecology of repair. Eating, speaking, choosing – each act carries the potential to lift a spark.
Compare this with the digital economy, where every click leaves a trace and every trace is monetized. AI systems harvest behavior the way mysticism imagines sparks, but with a radically different aim. One seeks profit and prediction; the other seeks elevation.
This contrast invites a quiet but radical question: Are our daily actions feeding AI systems that come to know us – or is DI cultivating an awareness in us that knows why things happen to us?
One of the most enduring images in the Torah is Jacob’s ladder, stretching from Earth to heaven, with angels ascending and descending. Mystical tradition reads this not as a supernatural spectacle but as a description of human life. We are the ladder; every action is a rung.
In a world increasingly mediated by networks – global, digital, instantaneous – it is tempting to see ourselves as nodes. But nodes transmit; bridges choose. Divine intelligence places the human being at the center of the connection between worlds, not as a processor but as a moral agent.
While AI can optimize routes, it cannot be relied on to decide which direction is worthy.
Messiah, utopias, and repair
Technology culture often speaks in redemptive language: Disruption will save us, optimization will fix us. Intelligence – once it becomes powerful enough – will redeem the world. Jewish mysticism offers a quieter, more demanding vision. Redemption does not arrive through escape or acceleration but through tikkun – repair.
The Talmud envisions the Messiah sitting among the poor and wounded, binding his own wounds one at a time. Redemption begins where attention lingers, not where speed triumphs. Presence is more important than precision. The Baal Shem Tov taught that the messianic era will awaken when hidden wisdom spreads outward – when depth becomes accessible.
This idea animates contemporary online projects like the upcoming The People’s Zohar, which seeks to open mystical texts not as esoteric artifacts but as living companions for modern readers, a sibling online initiative to the successful The People’s Talmud. People are looking for wisdom that can coexist with modern life, not encourage them to retreat from it.
Intelligence, responsibility, and time
Having spent decades working inside technological systems, I have seen how tools reshape their users. Early mobile platforms promised convenience, but they also rewired attention. AI magnifies this effect. It does not merely assist thought – it shapes the environment in which thought takes place.
Divine intelligence offers a counterweight. It insists that intelligence divorced from responsibility is incomplete. Knowledge without reverence becomes manipulation; power without humility becomes dangerous noise.
This is not an argument against AI – it is an argument against forgetting what intelligence is for.
One of the most countercultural ideas in Jewish tradition is sacred time. Shabbat is not merely a day off; it is a recurring doorway into a different quality of being. Time does not march forward in a straight line – it spirals, revisiting meaning with new depth.
Digital culture collapses time into immediacy. Everything is now. Everything demands response. Divine intelligence interrupts this compression. It teaches us to step into time rather than rush it.
In an age of constant alerts, this may be one of the most radical spiritual practices available.
Choosing what we feed
We will continue to build intelligent machines: That is neither surprising nor inherently dangerous. The real question is what kind of intelligence – divine and human – we cultivate alongside them.
Divine intelligence does not compete with AI: It contextualizes it. It reminds us that wisdom is not measured only by speed, scale, or accuracy but by the capacity to choose well when no algorithm can decide for us.
The future will not be shaped solely by smarter machines. It will be shaped by humans who remember how to read the world – not just as data but as meaning.
And that perhaps is the most intelligent choice of all.
The DI & AI master class was designed not to issue warnings or offer technical prescriptions but to cultivate discernment. Each session pairs a core mystical insight with a contemporary analogue, inviting participants to notice how different kinds of intelligence read and understand the same world.
The class is supported by SHARE, a community dedicated to enriching modern lives through the ancient wisdom of Jewish teachings. Its sponsorship reflects a belief that education and reflection are not luxuries but necessities – especially in times of rapid change. SHARE’S involvement has helped make both the course and the launch of The People’s Zohar accessible to a wide and diverse audience.■
This article was written with Flash AI as an editorial collaborator.