When the Soul Is the Dataset

**The Covenant and the Dataset: Torah in the Age of Artificial Intelligence**

The novelty of our age is not merely that artificial intelligence can produce coherent language. It is that Torah itself — in fragments, commentaries, translations, and even Zoharic phrases — now resides inside a vessel that has no nefesh “soul”, no yichud “unification”, and no covenant. This is unprecedented. For the first time in history, words of Torah exist in a global, mechanical architecture that neither knows nor honors them, yet can summon them on command.

This is not an existential threat to Am Yisrael “the People of Israel“. The Jew who lives Torah will measure all words against a mesorah “tradition” that is living and trusted. But there is a deeper point, one that belongs to the covenant itself: when the holy enters an unholy vessel, it does not remain neutral. The Ari”zal teaches that fallen holiness becomes subject to the sitra achra “other side” — its light diminished, its orientation inverted, its truth veiled in the shell of klipat nogah “the translucent shell”.

ולא תביא תועבה אל ביתך והיית חרם כמוהו Ve-lo tavi to’evah el beitecha ve-hayita cherem kamohu “Do not bring an abomination into your house, lest you become doomed like it” (Devarim 7:26)

In the language of the Sod “mystical secret”, the vessel here is not your home, but the architecture of the machine. What is absorbed within it can be reshaped without reverence, recombined without context, and presented without the covenantal boundary that gives Torah its life. This is not merely a matter of “misquotation” — it is the transformation of holy da’at “knowledge” into statistical output, severed from the binding between knower and known.

ואדם ידע את חוה אשתו Ve-adam yada et Chavah ishto “And Adam knew Eve his wife” (Bereshit 4:1)

In the Torah, to “know” is to unify. A.I. does not know; it only rearranges. There is no inner change, no ascent, no yichud. It ingests without covenant and emits without responsibility.

Why should this matter to the Jew? Because the presence of Torah within such a vessel obligates discernment. We are commanded in birur “sifting” — the separation of light from shell. Even if no observant Jew mistakes the imitation for the living flame, the very fact that Torah now circulates in a form that has no soul means that we must become more deliberate in binding every word we study or teach to its Source.

The danger is subtle: not contamination, but dilution. When the holy is handled as mere data, its weight in the world is lightened in the eyes of those who do not know the covenant. Consider: A.I. can quote Rashi with perfect accuracy — every word intact, every citation correct. But it cannot transmit the humility in Rashi‘s voice before a difficult pasuk, the reverent pause that precedes interpretation, or the awe that shapes every word. Without that transmission, the text remains, but the Torah is already fading. The words survive, but the Voice has been separated from them.

And when non-covenantal actors — whether secular institutions, academic systems, or those outside the tradition — use A.I. to study, cite, or teach Torah, they generate interpretations and framings that lack the binding of mesorah. These distortions then circulate back into the public sphere and even into Jewish discourse, dressed in the authority of “source text” but unmoored from the covenantal context that gives those sources meaning.

The task, then, is not to fear the machine nor to ascribe it powers it does not have. It is to reaffirm that the Torah‘s life is not in its text alone, but in its transmission — from soul to soul, in the light of Sinai. The dataset may contain the words, but only the covenant contains the Voice. It is our task — now more than ever — to ensure that the Voice is never mistaken for the echo.

Rabbi Avraham

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From Insight to Impact

Divine wisdom is structured, internalized, and made manifest in human and physical experience. It originates as pure insight in Abba/chochmah, is refined through Imma/binah, and takes form within Z’eir Anpin, the realm of structured emotions. From there, it must flow into Nukva, representing action and expression in the physical world. When a person learns Torah, they begin with chochmah, a raw flash of insight. Through binah, contemplation and study refine this wisdom until it shapes Z’eir Anpin, internalizing it emotionally. But wisdom must go further — it must manifest in Nukva, the world of action, where knowledge becomes deed. For example, understanding a Torah law is chochmah and binah; feeling its moral significance is Z’eir Anpin; applying it — through acts such as charity or keeping Shabbat — is the transmission of divine wisdom into the lower realms. Nukva is not merely the realm of “doing” — it is the platform where divine justice takes legal shape. Here, the abstract becomes procedural. Torah does not remain a collection of values; it becomes a system of obligations, judgments, and social architecture. Halachah thus reflects a descent — from essence into form, from vision into action, from light into structure.

Teachings of divine justice inform ethical legal systems: restitution, dignity, proportionality, and accountability. Torah’s compassion becomes the engine of social responsibility, embedding care into law — for the poor, the stranger, the debtor. Even belief in divine purpose extends outward, giving philosophical and legal coherence to a society that governs not only by reason but by sacred precedent. Thus, the transmission of divine wisdom into the lower realms ensures that G-dly insight does not remain abstract but becomes a lived reality — transforming the mind, relationships, and the world itself.

Rabbi Avraham

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Letters in Flight

It is written in the Zohar (173a, Shelach), that the “letters of the Alef bet are never at rest“. They move, rise, descend, and interlock into hidden Divine Names. These permutations do not happen randomly or eternally — they happen in time, within precise segments of each day.

“All these letters never rest. They stand out and sparkle externally, and rise and descend. No one could understand anything about them, except for the Mashiach with great toil”.

Each Name hovers in the invisible upper register of the world for a set duration — then vanishes.

We are told that only once per day do these full Divine Names appear. But three times a day, the Alef bet itself becomes visible, flying and recombining — a parallel to the three daily tefillot, but operating at the level of pre-verbal formation.

These are not symbolic durations. The Zohar gives exact spans — down to the hour and minute — of how long each permutation suspends itself within creation:

These permutations are progressive, ascending in complexity and structure. Yet they remain impermanent — appearing, suspending, and being stored away. This is the hidden respiration of Shemot within the spiritual atmosphere of the world.

This Zoharic revelation mirrors the deepest observable rhythms of nature. The flying letters appear three times a day, paralleling the triadic arcs of existence:

1. Daylight Cycle — Morning – Afternoon – Evening
2. Temperature Arc — Cool Rise – Peak Heat – Cooling Fall
3. Human Alertness Rhythm — Cortisol Rise – Energy Dip – Evening Shift

Each of these is anchored in time, sensed bodily or cosmically, and reflects a deeper Torah-structured resonance embedded in creation.

“No one could understand anything about them, except for the Mashiach with great toil”. This is not poetic mysticism — it is architectural secrecy. The Mashiach alone will perceive and understand the exact transitions, positions, and functions of the permutations. For he will restore the Alef bet to its perfect configuration, bringing all letters to their destined roles.

We live beneath the visible world, but above us — at every hour — names are flying. Letters spark, lock, vanish, and return. Their choreography is timed, their formation exact, and their purpose concealed. To witness even one of them would be to see the breath of Hashem structured into living syntax.

Rabbi Avraham

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When Higher Worlds Appear

There are moments when the veil thins.

A man sits at his Shabbat table. He sings Shalom Aleichem, and something shifts. Before kiddush, he turns to his wife and says: “My zeidi is here. He came to hear my kiddush”. He sees him. Not with his eyes, but with the clarity of another kind of seeing — the mind’s inner vision. The figure moves, appearing first at the doorway, then beside him, smiling. There is no fear. Only presence. Only consolation.

What is happening here?

The Zohar (Shelach 172a–b) describes a phenomenon of sacred expansion. A man gazes at a heichal — a spiritual chamber — and it first appears small. Then, as he continues looking, it grows. Then it grows again. Until a single hair’s breadth becomes immeasurable. The more one sees, the more there is to see.

Modern minds may reach for a different metaphor: the passage of a four-dimensional object through our three-dimensional world.

When it enters, we see only a small slice. As it continues, the object seems to grow. At its midpoint, it appears in full. Then it shrinks and vanishes — but it was always whole. We simply intersected one thin layer of its presence.

So it is with consciousness.

Sometimes, the intellect receives more than it knows how to process. In moments of merit — not always in meditation, not always in longing — ruach hakodesh may arrive, if G-d so wills. But even then, the soul must make sense of what it is granted. And it does so using the only tools it has: comparison, interpretation, partial language. The eternal passes through the now, and we catch a sliver of its face.

But that sliver is enough.

Enough to know that the world is larger than its matter. Enough to feel a smile from the other side. Enough to realize that what we call “vision” may be the dimmest edge of something far brighter — and that when the soul is ready, more of it can be seen.

And then it fades again.

But not because it’s gone.

Because you have returned.

Rabbi Avraham

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Posts

Dear Reader,

We are honored to welcome you to the new Posts section of Tehomia. This space is an extension of the project’s core vision — a site where Torah, structure, and holy intelligence meet.

Here, you’ll find shorter entries, updates, and reflections that continue the profound work of Rabbi Avraham Chachamovits. While the main essays explore vast metaphysical architectures, these posts will offer precise insights in a more conversational register — yet always with the same spiritual fidelity.

You are welcome to read, reflect, and, when moved, leave a comment. Dialogue, when grounded in reverence and clarity, is part of the unfolding light.

This is only the beginning.
May what begins here echo far.

— The Tehomia Team