What happens to a people when their nation disappears? When they lose their land, their king, and even their temple, what do they hold onto for survival? Throughout human history, many nations have lost their homelands and scattered across the globe, often assimilating into the languages and cultures of their conquerors. Over generations, they lost their languages and faith, ultimately forgetting who they were.
However, the Jewish people were different.
They lost their nation. They lost their temple. They scattered across the world and endured centuries of persecution and exile. Yet, through nearly 2,000 years of diaspora, they maintained their religious and cultural identity. What enabled their survival?
In their hands was something that outlasted swords: a book. They had a tradition of reading, questioning, discussing, and teaching their children.
In the first part of the story of Judaism, we followed Abraham and Moses. Abraham left his homeland, and Moses departed from the land of slavery in Egypt. Their departures were not mere relocations; for Abraham, it marked the beginning of faith, and for Moses, the start of freedom. At the end of this long journey, the people of Israel entered into a covenant with God at Mount Sinai, understanding their relationship with God not as one of mere obedience but as one of promises and responsibilities.
At the heart of this covenant and teaching is the Torah. The Talmud represents the vast intellectual tradition accumulated over centuries of questioning, debating, and interpreting how to understand and live the Torah in the context of changing times and realities.
◆ From the Temple to the Book
The year 70 CE was pivotal in Jewish history. The Roman army captured Jerusalem, and under the command of Titus, they destroyed the Second Temple, the center of Jewish faith. The temple was not merely a religious structure; it housed priests and sacrificial offerings and was the cornerstone of Jewish faith, community, and historical identity.
With the temple gone, where could they meet God?
Judaism underwent a remarkable transformation. If the temple could not be rebuilt, they made the word the center of their lives. If they could not offer sacrifices, they met God through prayer, study, and practice. If they could not go to Jerusalem, they made their homes and synagogues the centers of their faith communities.
The focus shifted from a stone temple to a temple of words.
Buildings can be destroyed. Territories can be taken. However, the words that reside in memory and the knowledge accumulated in the mind cannot be easily taken away. With just one book, they can read it anywhere, and if that book is lost, they can pass on the words they remember and memorize to their children. Thus, Judaism evolved into a religion of study and memory.
◆ Torah: How Should Humans Live?
The Torah is often translated as 'law.' While this translation is not incorrect, it is insufficient. The Hebrew term Torah encompasses not only law but also teachings and guidance on how humans should walk their paths.
In a narrow sense, it refers to the five books of Moses: Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy. However, in Jewish tradition, the Torah is more than a legal code; it is a teaching that asks how to live one's life before God.
How should one serve God? How should one honor parents and live with neighbors? How should one treat the poor and the stranger? How should one earn and spend money? What should one eat and avoid? When should one work and when should one rest? What should one remember and pass on to the next generation?
Every aspect of life was a subject of inquiry.
Religion and daily life were not completely separate. Faith was not limited to offering sacrifices at the temple on specific days; it was connected to the concrete actions of eating, doing business, raising children, making contracts with neighbors, working, and resting. Therefore, reading the Torah was not merely about reciting religious texts.
It was about learning how to live as a human being.
◆ Talmud: A Civilization That Never Stopped Questioning
However, the world cannot be easily resolved with the text of scripture alone. Times change, and new problems arise. Each person's circumstances differ, and even the same scripture can lead to different interpretations.
Here, the Jewish people developed a unique path. They asked questions, debated, countered, and asked again. Among the vast accumulation of interpretations and debates, the Talmud stands out.
The Talmud is not a book written by a single person. It is a compilation of discussions by generations of rabbis and scholars on the Torah and real-world issues. It is fundamentally structured around the Mishnah and Gemara, with the Jerusalem Talmud formed in the Palestinian region and the Babylonian Talmud developed in the Jewish communities of Mesopotamia. Notably, the Babylonian Talmud later gained central authority in the scholarly and legal traditions of rabbinic Judaism.
What is noteworthy in the Talmud is not just the conclusions but the process of reaching those conclusions. When one rabbi makes a claim, another rabbi counters it. Another person may offer a new interpretation based on a biblical verse or tradition. The arguments of people from centuries ago meet the opinions of later scholars on the same page. Just because one side wins does not mean the other side's thoughts are erased. Minority opinions and counterarguments are also recorded.
Today's minority opinion may hold new meaning under different conditions in another era. This is a significant characteristic of Talmudic thought. It does not stop at memorizing answers but asks why. It acknowledges authority while seeking evidence, and it continues to question even while learning from teachers.
Thus, a tradition of studying together, reading, and debating has developed in Jewish education. The widely known havruta tradition exemplifies this. Two people sit together, reading scripture and continuously exchanging questions like, “Why is that?” “What is the basis?” “Can we think the opposite?” “Is another interpretation possible?”
Questions are not disbelief. Questions are a way to approach the truth.
◆ Sabbath: The Human Ability to Pause
Another key to understanding Judaism is the Sabbath, or Shabbat. This sacred time of rest lasts from Friday evening until Saturday evening. The Ten Commandments instruct to remember and keep the Sabbath holy.
This norm, established thousands of years ago, contains remarkably modern anthropology. Humans must work, but they are not born solely to work. They pause from labor, production, and earning money to share meals with family, pray, read scripture, and reflect on who they are.
The value of a human being is not determined solely by productivity.
Slaves cannot rest at will. Free people can pause. In this sense, while the Exodus was a spatial liberation, the Sabbath can be seen as a liberation of time. Escaping Egypt does not automatically eliminate the condition of slavery. Humans can become enslaved again to money, power, desires, and labor. Thus, one day a week, they declare:
I am not a working machine. I do not exist solely to earn money.
The philosophy of the Sabbath is even more urgent in the age of AI. Smartphones never sleep, and social media and platforms demand human attention 24/7. AI does not rest, nor do robots. Should humans work 24/7 as well?
No.
The more machines do not rest, the more humans must learn to rest in a human way. Pausing is not laziness; it is a way to preserve humanity.
◆ The Home as the First School
The starting point of Jewish education was not a grand school but the home. Parents became the first teachers, not only providing food and clothing but also teaching their children about scripture and history.
Particularly, the Passover table serves as a history classroom. Children ask, “Why is this night different from all other nights? Why do we eat unleavened bread?” Parents recount the story of the Exodus, explaining that they were slaves in Egypt and that God freed them.
What is crucial here is that the past is not taught as a mere history. The statement “Our ancestors were slaves” does not remain as historical knowledge but is brought into the present life.
We were slaves.
Therefore, memory comes with responsibility. Since they were also strangers in Egypt, they must not mistreat strangers and the weak. Remembering their own suffering and ensuring that others do not endure the same pain is the ethics of memory.
Education begins here. It is not about memorizing history but learning responsibility from history.
◆ Crossing Borders with a Book
The history of the Jewish people is also the history of the diaspora. After the Babylonian exile, significant communities formed in Mesopotamia, and during and after the Roman era, Jewish communities established themselves in various regions, including Europe, North Africa, and the Middle East.
They lived in different countries, spoke different languages, and had different professions. However, when communities formed, they built synagogues and taught children scripture and writing. Scholars studied and debated the Torah, interpreting the issues of their times. Particularly in the diaspora communities of Mesopotamia, a vast legacy known as the Babylonian Talmud was formed through long-standing academic accumulation.
Even without a nation, they could study. Even without a king, there could be teachers. Even without an army, they could read books. Even without a temple, they could pray at the family table.
This was one of the remarkable survival strategies of Jewish civilization. They created a culture that outlasted the state.
Education became the most enduring capital.
Here, one must be cautious in viewing the economic and academic achievements of the Jewish people. Simplifying it to the notion that Jews are inherently intelligent overlooks historical complexities. What matters is the long-accumulated culture and institutions of education, as well as the historical context of the diaspora.
Economic history studies suggest that after the destruction of the Second Temple, the religious significance of Torah study and children's education grew in rabbinic Judaism, leading to increased literacy, which likely influenced urban commerce and professional occupations in the long term. Of course, Jewish economic history cannot be explained solely by education. Persecution, occupational restrictions, forced migrations, and varying political and economic environments must also be considered.
However, it is clear that the Jewish community has long valued education and literacy.
Homes can be taken away. Land can be confiscated, and property can disappear. But the knowledge and ability to think that reside in the mind cannot be easily taken away.
Thus, education became an asset for survival before being a means of success.
◆ Rabbis: Teachers Who Teach Questions Over Answers
In Judaism, a rabbi is a significant figure. However, it is not exactly the same concept as a priest in Christianity. Fundamentally, a rabbi is a teacher who studies, interprets, and teaches the Torah and legal traditions.
It is meaningful that the community is not centered solely around power figures but also around teachers and interpreters. A good student is not someone who unconditionally accepts the teacher's words. They must be able to learn, listen, and ask questions again.
The rabbinic tradition's wisdom literature, Pirkei Avot, poses this famous question: “Who is wise? The one who learns from everyone.”
A knowledgeable person can speak. A more knowledgeable person knows how to listen. And a truly wise person recognizes their ignorance and asks again.
This is humility in knowledge.
◆ In an Age of Answers, the Importance of Questions
Korean education also has lessons to reflect upon here. For a long time, we have called those who quickly find answers top students. Exams had answers, teachers knew them, and students learned and memorized. This educational approach was quite effective during the rapid growth of the industrial era.
However, the era of generative AI is different. In the race to find answers, humans already struggle to compete with machines. Searching, summarizing, translating, and calculating are tasks that AI performs faster. The gap is likely to widen in the future.
Therefore, the focus of human education must also change. What one asks is as important as what one knows, and the ability to question and verify answers is becoming increasingly crucial. The ability to discern truth from the abundance of information is vital.
The long-standing culture of questioning among Jews holds unexpected modern relevance in the 21st century's AI era.
Before asking AI questions, humans must first ask themselves: Why? For what purpose? For whom?
The word must become life. However, Judaism should not be understood merely as a religion of study. The ultimate purpose of study is not the accumulation of knowledge but the transformation of life.
What is the meaning of reading the Torah a hundred times if one acts unjustly toward their neighbor? What is the purpose of studying the Talmud extensively if one ignores the poor and the weak?
The mitzvah in Judaism refers to God's commandments and leads to obligations and practices in life. Learning must translate into action, and faith must manifest in relationships with family, neighbors, and in the marketplace.
Thus, the spirituality of Judaism is not solely a spirituality that looks to the heavens. It enters into the very ordinary aspects of life: food and work, family and money, rest and education.
Perhaps the greatest caution for religion lies here: having many words without life, reading scriptures without justice, praying without caring for neighbors, and speaking of God while failing to love humanity.
In that moment, even religion can become an idol.
◆ Dasuk Yoo Yeong-mo's 'One' and the Words of Judaism
Here, we return to Dasuk Yoo Yeong-mo. He read the Bible, Buddhist scriptures, and traversed the Analects, Mencius, Laozi, and Zhuangzi. However, his study was not about accumulating knowledge to showcase himself. Ultimately, it was a quest for 'One.'
The 'One' that Dasuk spoke of is not simply the number 1. It is the source of all existence and the ultimate place to which humans must return. People come from the One, live seeking the One, and return to the One. Therefore, true study should not stop at knowing many things outside but should awaken the true self within.
The 'Eolna' he spoke of is also on that path. It is about finding the true self beyond the self of the body, the self of desires, and the self of possessions.
The study of the Torah in Judaism and Dasuk's philosophy differ in historical background and religious systems. There is no need to force them into one. However, they resonate meaningfully in that they both represent studies that transform humans.
Study must change humans.
If one reads books but does not change as a person, that study is not yet complete. If one has gained knowledge but has become more arrogant, that is a flawed study. If one speaks more of God but grows to hate others more, that is a flawed faith.
True knowledge humbles and broadens a person. And it sets them free.
◆ In the Age of AI, Questioning Humanity Again
Humanity now stands at another civilizational threshold. We are discussing the possibilities of moving beyond generative AI to AGI (Artificial General Intelligence) and even ASI (Artificial Superintelligence). AI that can remember more information than humans, calculate faster, and surpass human abilities in certain areas is becoming a reality.
So, what should humans do?
We cannot compete with machines by memorizing more or calculating faster. In the future, the important human will not be the one who competes with machines but the one who can ask machines the right questions and verify their answers.
For whom is this AI? Does it speak the truth or amplify falsehoods? Does it expand human freedom or surveil and control humans? Does it distribute wealth widely or concentrate it in the hands of a few? Does it prevent war or become a more powerful weapon? Does it help coexistence between humans and nature, or does it further deplete the Earth?
The moment we stop asking these questions, humans may become subservient to AI rather than its masters.
Thus, what is needed in the age of AI is not just technology but spirituality. We must seriously consider the issue of Spirituality-centered AI (SAI) that goes beyond human-centered AI (HAI) to contemplate human dignity and life, culture and nature, and even the meaning of existence beyond humanity.
What is more important than the speed of technology is its direction. What is more important than ability is purpose, and what is more important than intelligence is wisdom.
◆ Even if Books Are Taken Away, Questions Remain
We must not simplify the thousands of years of Jewish history into a beautiful success story. There have been horrific times of persecution, discrimination, exile, and massacre, and there have been conflicts and divisions within the Jewish community. In modern times, new issues have arisen that require us to distinguish between Jews and the state of Israel, Judaism and the political choices of modern Israel.
Nevertheless, one clear message left by this ancient civilization is:
Learn. Ask. Remember. Rest. And live what you have learned.
The temple can be destroyed. Nations can disappear, and property can be taken away. But the thinking human cannot be taken away. Even if books are taken away, the words in memory remain, and even if the last book disappears, questions remain for humanity.
Who am I? Where did I come from? How should I live? What is truth? What is justice? What is freedom?
Abraham departed. Moses led the slaves into the wilderness. And their descendants scattered across the world with books in hand. When they lost their land, they held onto the words; when they lost their temple, they preserved their homes and synagogues; and even after the center of sacrifice disappeared, they continued to pray and study. Parents taught their children, and children passed it on to the next generation.
Thus, one generation created the next.
The strength that enabled them to endure nearly 2,000 years of diaspora cannot be explained solely by great armies or vast wealth. It was the people who remembered the words, who questioned, who learned, and who taught what they learned to the next generation.
The second question that Judaism poses to us today ultimately leads us here:
What will we pass on to the next generation?
Money? Houses? Power? Or something that cannot be easily taken away even if the world changes?
The power to think and the courage to question, the heart that seeks truth and the responsibility to act justly, and the freedom to choose for oneself. Perhaps that is the most enduring legacy one human can pass on to another, one generation to the next.
Truth begins with questioning. Justice begins with translating what has been learned into life. Freedom begins when one can pause and think for themselves.
And spirituality connects all of this into one.
Coming from the One, seeking the One, and returning to the One.
The ancient tradition of study and questioning among the Jewish people asks us again, across thousands of years and into the age of AI:
What are you learning? And are you living according to what you have learned?
* This article has been translated by AI.
Copyright ⓒ Aju Press All rights reserved.