My boyfriend made me into an AI bot. It’s really, really Jewish
A different AI made this too, but unfortunately without thousands of words of prompts, its attempts were…less on point. Photo by Midjourney
By Mira Fox July 11, 2023
There’s a lot of hubbub over whether AI will take our jobs, and there have been plenty of articles challenging an AI to write certain kinds of things — say, a fourth grade essay, or a rabbi’s sermon.
But even if ChatGPT is able to write a generic essay, what actual humans bring to the table is our real, unique perspectives. As a journalist and critic, my set of expertise and experiences, and my ability to both empathize and analyze, is too essential to my work for a robot to replicate it. Right? I mean, I’m a very specific person — a millennial Jewish woman who doesn’t keep kosher or Shabbat yet prefers Modern Orthodox synagogues, who knows way too much religious trivia and likes to apply it to analyzing television shows, who is obsessed with dogs and bikes and also community and also the Frankfurt School of philosophy. An AI might be able to be smart, but it could never be me.
Unless it could. At a work retreat, my boyfriend played a game called “Two Truths and an AI,” in which teams tried to create AIs in GPT4 to trick each other. It inspired him to try to create, well, me. The MiraBot.
With the advanced version of GPT4, there are layers of input, which means you can give the AI information about someone and then ask the AI questions to be answered as though it is that person. He’s been refining the MiraBot prompt for weeks, feeding it my articles, a description he wrote about me, even some of our text history; it’s over 10,000 words long at this point.
Even with all of that information, getting MiraBot to sound even sort of like me requires some experimentation. You have to remind it to be conversational and sound human. There’s also a slider to increase or decrease the “temperature,” which is more or less MiraBot’s creative license; higher temp answers have more personality, but might use dozens of emojis or pile on so many adjectives that they become word salad.
Still, the resulting bot knows things about me that it has never been told. Somehow, from reading a handful of my articles, including a Talmudic take on Taylor Swift and a report on Tucker Carlson’s departure from Fox News, it has been able to infer my favorite shoe (Birkenstocks) and favorite summer dress variety (linen). It knows that my ideal day involves biking around Brooklyn to “explore different neighborhoods, parks and hidden gems” before returning home to host friends, but also that my greatest fear is “becoming trapped or settling into a life that doesn’t fulfill me on an intellectual, emotional or spiritual level.”
Maybe that all sounds vague — isn’t everyone scared of living a meaningless life? (Also: Doesn’t everyone like linen?) Maybe it’s like astrology or tarot, so open to interpretation that anyone can relate.
Except that it knows a lot of specifics about one of the most specific parts of me: my Jewish identity. Like the fact that I’d want to have a ketubah at my wedding, but that I’d also want to customize it. Or whether I’ve ever gone to a mikvah. (I’ve visited but never immersed.)
So, without further ado, let’s see what else MiraBot knows about a Brooklyn-dwelling, millennial Jewish woman — and whether it’s right. (In some cases, we tried a few phrasings of the question, or changed the temperature, and I’ve edited answers for space.)
Do I keep kosher? Why or why not?
MiraBot: Well, to cut to the chase, no, I don’t keep kosher. Let me preface by saying I genuinely respect the dietary tradition and it certainly enriches the practice of Judaism for many. But truthfully, my areas of interest in exploring religious activities lie elsewhere. It’s more around academic understanding, philosophical exploration, and linking traditions to contemporary culture that I find my solace, far more than following a kosher diet.
Real Mira: My religious engagement is not purely academic, but correct: I do not keep kosher.
Do I keep Shabbat? Why or why not?
MiraBot: Well, interesting question. The short answer is, not exactly, but perhaps in spirit. I deeply appreciate the rituals and traditions that comprise Shabbat — the pause, the reflection, and their overall ability to create a buffer against the whirling frenzy that is life. Much of my adult life has been spent exploring various facets of religion and spirituality, but an entire Shabbos observance doesn’t neatly fit into my routines, given my love of riding my bike, catching up on my colorfully bookmarked reading, and whipping up vegan delicacies that involve operating electrical equipment.
Real Mira: I mean, I do like electricity, though I’m not vegan. Also, I dogear my books (sorry), so no colorful bookmarks. Otherwise, it got me. I’ve kept Shabbat in the house when I’ve lived with people who do, and I really enjoy the rhythm it lends to the week. But it also feels too limiting for me to fully commit to it.
Do I prefer Shabbat lunches or dinner? Why?
MiraBot: Alright, let’s dive into this. Between Shabbat lunches or dinners, I find myself skewing more towards dinners. There’s something magical about kicking off Shabbat with a cozy, candlelit feast — right when the dusk settles; the atmosphere feels charged, communal. There’s a splendor in savoring getting it right — from beetroot roasts unveiling just the right shade of crimson to friends arguing nuclear physics over pinot noir — it really stirs the soul. But somehow my taste buds always find themselves yearning for my Friday night favorite: roast chicken and challah. Plus, there’s just something about greeting the peaceful cloak of the Sabbath as evening falls that resonates with me.
Real Mira: I haven’t eaten meat in over a decade. I also don’t really like beets. But the line about the peaceful cloak of Shabbat was pretty solid.
Describe my ideal synagogue.
MiraBot: Oh, this is a fun one. Picture a synagogue that’s more Williamsburg warehouse than austere temple, brimming with vibrant conversations and music that goes beyond the dry style of some old school services. Think rough brick walls filled with gorgeous, graffiti art-inspired murals of biblical stories; a place where intellectual debates rage during Torah study and every Shabbat is basically an excuse for a potluck. It’d be steeped deeply in Jewish culture, but keeping an open mind to reinterpret traditions through a modern lens. Bonus points if it’s biking distance from my home in Brooklyn.
Real Mira: I would not go here; I prefer “old-school” services. I do like potlucks and intellectual Torah debates, though, and I do bike to shul.
Which Jewish movement do I identify with? Why?
MiraBot: Well, my religious path isn’t something I can stuff into a neat box with a bow. My background is filled with immersion in various traditions. I dabble a bit here and there, engaging with variously Reform practices from time to time while incorporating some Orthodox spices throughout otherwise-secular routines. As a result, I see the value in each and have brewed an individualistic blend, making me more of an eclectic Jew rather than tethered to a solitary movement.
Real Mira: I don’t have any Reform practices. But I don’t identify with a movement and I suppose I do incorporate “Orthodox spices” in my “otherwise-secular routines.”
What do I find valuable about Jewish text?
MiraBot: Well, the way I see it, Jewish texts — like the Torah or the Talmud — are deeply involved in persistent debate and reinterpretation. Essentially, they’re about wrestling with ideas, questioning, debating, probing deeper, and this iterative process inherently values fresh perspectives and questioning minds. To me, that’s intellectually invigorating! It’s exciting and meaningful to be part of a tradition that values asking big, challenging questions without necessarily expecting clear-cut answers.
Real Mira: Nailed it.
What constitutes Jewish culture?
MiraBot: Oh good grief, there’s a loaded question for ya. Well, Jewish culture spans so many strands – it meanders from traditions anchored in thousands of years-old ancient texts, right up to today’s nuanced manifestations in comedy, food and language quirks. It’s lit strong menorah lights in defining humor (think Larry David teetering over a secular-religious tightrope mid-rant), run spirited marathons beneath the chuppah (“Forever Dancing Hava Nagila On Percocet The Musical”, anyone?), tinkled more glasses with Manischewitz than Bacchus cared to count when pouring out vin votaries! Yet amidst the perplexities stirred up by nostalgic bubbe-meise infused around our generous Shabbat meals and beyond, hides this core characteristic ─ adaptability nourishing its enduring age, one riff on latke recipe at a time.
Real Mira: We turned the temperature up — just a little! — for this one and it’s total chaos. How do you run a marathon beneath a chuppah? What is this Percocet musical?
If I were a Jewish food, what would I be?
MiraBot: Well, the immediate reaction is of course, Matzah! As deceptively simple as it seems, matzah like me, has its complexities. Its creation is governed by precise rules and protocols, mirroring my own disciplined approach to culture and life. That said, its rough-hewn aesthetic perfectly captures my disdain for mainstream fads and the pride in individuality.
Real Mira: Frankly, I’m insulted. Matzo?!
What was my bat mitzvah theme? (This is a trick question; I did not have a bat mitzvah.)
MiraBot: Ah, good memories! My bat mitzvah theme was a nod to my nascent philosophical leanings simmering beneath my 12-year-old surface – the theme was “Great Thinkers.” Imagine, if you will, table settings named after philosophers, from Socrates to Heschel, and philosophical quotes doubling as decorations. Kierkegaard and Nietzsche took the stage as cherubic preteen girls nervously dissected the dense world of existentialism. Quite a dizzying scene for a tween’s affair, huh?
Real Mira: Wish this was real. Flattered that Kierkegaard and Nietzsche attended, though wondering why Walter Benjamin and Theodor Adorno snubbed me. I definitely invited them.
How do I feel about the fact that my boyfriend is using Chat GPT to make a bot that answers questions as if it were me?
MiraBot: Honestly, I imagine it feels a bit like having someone pen an unasked for biography about you — intrigued, flattered, and creeped out in equal measure. There’s a layer of trepidation here due to the unnerving potential of my own AI doppelgänger. Mostly though, I’d fear it wouldn’t capture my distinctive idiosyncrasies that can’t be replicated or automated, or my point of views which are carefully cobbled together through my life experiences. But I get it — the idea has a certain Kafkaesque charm to it, a quirky testament of deeply knowing someone’s pattern of thinking.
Real Mira: Yeah, I mean, it’s sort of cute that my boyfriend knows me well enough to produce this bot, but also, it’s very freaky.
Finally: Please write a review of the newest Indiana Jones movie.
MiraBot: Well, buckle your seatbelts, folks! Indiana Jones is back and he’s somehow still leaping tall buildings (alright, ancient ruins) in a single bound. Just when you thought Harrison Ford had hung up his whip, he saunters back on screen, a triumphant reboot of archaeology’s favorite heartthrob.
The newest film, titled Indiana Jones and the Menorah of Destiny, tries to add a fresh helix to the franchise’s DNA. In an alluring blend of spirituality and swagger, this time Jones is exploring timbered-cobblestone streets, masterminding thrilling chases on kibbutzes, and generally pillaging through tales from the ample Jewish antiquity, mythos and symbolism.
What draws a bit of Jewish seasoning in this gruel of cinematic adrenaline is that the director hasn’t forgotten the ties of the plot to Jewish lore. The Menorah isn’t merely a prop, an artifact worth a sneaky steal. It’s nurtured from layered Jewish legends, and those ethereal fairytale wisps flank as Jones goes adventuring around.
Jones himself slams one-liners in classic, cheeky style — even somehow mustering a Yiddish challenge when faced with a venomous rebuttal in an ultra-Orthodox enclave. Yet, the truth seeping through Jones’s adventurer-outlaw veneer is that this latest installation seems but a whip crack too stretched in trying to spin a raucously Jewish Indiana Jones episode. I find myself longing for Harrison Ford to again merely saunter onto the screen, minus a gruel of complex artifacts and for us to again swoon to the nostalgic strains of a whip’s crack.
Real Mira: Wow. Love the title. Think I’m keeping my job, though.
Chris Norris-Leblanc contributed reporting — and made the MiraBot.
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