For some people, the question isn’t whether AI works. It’s whether this whole project should be happening in the first place.
There’s a feeling especially among those who care deeply about Torah and kedushah that putting Torah into AI or digital systems just doesn’t sit right. It feels like something so sacred doesn’t belong in the same space as tools built by secular companies, trained on the internet, or packaged into machines that weren’t created with holiness in mind.
This concern is real. It comes from a place of yiras Shamayim, of wanting to protect what’s holy. And it deserves to be taken seriously.
But if we take a step back and look at the bigger picture, a different story begins to emerge.
We’ve Been Here Before
There was a time when people were uneasy about printing holy books. The idea that Torah could be typeset and mass-produced felt strange even wrong. Something that used to be written by hand, with care and intention, was now rolling off a press.
But what happened? That technology didn’t cheapen Torah. It made it more accessible. It allowed more people to learn, more quickly, more deeply, and more widely than ever before.
And over time, that printing press didn’t become a threat to Torah it became part of its legacy.
We saw it again with radio, with cassette tapes, with digital libraries, with online shiurim. Each time, some people asked: Can something so holy really live in a medium like this? And each time, the answer was the same:
If you use the tool with the right intention, to share what’s true and elevate what’s holy, then yes. Not only can you use it. You should.
So What About AI?
AI is just the next tool.
Yes, it’s newer. Yes, it’s more complex. And yes, if misused, it can be harmful. But the same was true for every major leap in communication and access before it.
The question isn’t whether the tool is “too advanced” or “too modern.” The question is always the same:
What are we using it for?
If AI is used to entertain, distract, or mislead, then we should stay far away.
But if it can be used to help someone understand a pasuk, find a Ramban, compare commentaries, or get access to Torah they wouldn’t otherwise be able to reach—that’s not disrespect. That’s an opportunity.
We’re not putting Torah into technology because Torah needs it. We’re doing it because we do.
Elevating, Not Replacing
Of course, this doesn’t mean we treat Torah casually. It doesn’t mean everything should be digitized or that a computer can replace a Rebbi or a sefer or a chavrusa.
But it does mean that we can take the tools Hashem has allowed us to discover and use them for Torah, with Torah, and in service of Torah.
And when we do that, we’re not bringing Torah down to the level of the world, we’re lifting the world up toward the level of Torah.
A Tool Is Just a Tool
No one would look at a flashlight used to find a siddur in the dark and say the light is unholy.
No one would look at a microphone used to teach Torah to a thousand people and say it shouldn’t have been used.
And one day soon, no one will look at a well-designed Torah AI that helps people access real sources, deepen their understanding, and connect with Torah more deeply, and say it shouldn’t exist.
Because it’s not about the tool. It’s about how we use it.
Why This Matters
We live in a time where Torah is more available than ever before, but also surrounded by more distractions and confusion than ever before.
If we can use the best tools in the world to bring clarity instead of noise, truth instead of fluff, and real Torah instead of summaries and guesses, why wouldn’t we?
If we can take something powerful, and turn it toward something good, shouldn’t we?
This is not about lowering standards. It’s about raising access.
It’s not about replacing tradition. It’s about expanding who can reach it.
Technology, when used for the right purpose, isn’t a threat to Torah. It’s a chance to bring more people to it.
With care, with responsibility, and with the right kavana we can build something that serves Torah with dignity, not compromise.
And that, too, is a kiddush Hashem.