Twenty-five years ago, when I was living in Israel right after college, I toured Europe over our three-week Pesach break. I visited eight cities, taking just a handful of photos back when film was a precious resource. What stayed with me most was the beauty of Florence and the history of Rome. A few weeks ago, I returned to both cities – this time for two back-to-back conferences in Tuscany and at the Vatican, each exploring the concept of purpose in a very different way.
The first leg began at The Island of Knowledge, a think-tank about thirty minutes south of Siena and north of Florence. Convened by Templeton Laureate Marcelo Gleiser and his wife Kari, our group of six included some of the most brilliant physicists, philosophers, and neuroscientists I’ve ever met. Our discussion topic was “Is There Purpose in the Universe?” I was the only one without a doctoral degree and a stack of published papers – but the humility, curiosity, and kindness in the room reminded us all that every discipline has blind spots, and every perspective helps expand our view of the world.
The questions Marcelo put in front of us were big ones: “How did the universe come into existence? Why does it seem so ‘fine-tuned’ for life and, on our planet at least, intelligent life, to exist? (Or is the whole story of ‘fine-tuning’ a red herring?) Is there a cosmic plan? Is there a cosmic planner? Or are such notions anthropomorphic projections of confused humans? Is there a scientific case for panpsychism? How can we formulate a scientific notion of cosmic consciousness? Or are we in need of a new kind of science in order to include such ideas? Are we in need of rewriting the mythos of humanity?”
As others brought perspectives from physics (how do we make sense of the universe?), neuroscience (how does the brain create consciousness?), and biology (is a human’s purpose different from a zebra’s?), I was invited to bring in a religious lens. I focused on two areas – the question of the origins of the universe, and the question of purpose (using this source sheet). Two small questions!
We often wrestle with why the universe appears “fine-tuned” for life. As far as we know, Earth is the only planet with life. Is that intentional or accidental? As we acknowledged, science cannot fully answer that – and the Torah seems to discourage pursuit of the answer as well. In Bereshit Rabbah 1:10, the Rabbis ask why the Torah begins not with aleph (א), the first letter of the Hebrew alphabet, but with beit (ב), the second. Rabbi Yona explains that since the beit is closed on three sides and open only at the front, we are not permitted to ask what is above, below, before, or after – only what lies from the moment of creation onward.
In other words, speculation about what came before the universe isn’t as crucial as what we do within it. This framing invites intellectual humility – and accommodates diverse scientific ideas without contradicting our tradition.
All this leads to purpose. If we shift from “Why are we here?” to “How do we live while we are here?”, our focus moves to the purpose of our actions. How often do we act for the sake of the action itself, versus for ulterior motives? Pesachim 50b teaches that we should engage in Torah and mitzvot, even if it is not for their own sake, because eventually the act leads us toward deeper intention. In modern language: “fake it till you make it.” Our behavior often shapes our beliefs, not the other way around.
We certainly didn’t solve the cosmic question at the Island of Knowledge. One framing stuck with me, though: We may never know if there is a purpose of the universe – but through our humanity, we know there is undoubtedly a purpose in the universe. My most lasting experiential memory wasn’t a philosophical debate – it was our sunset hike through the Tuscan hills, where we sang as we lit Shabbat candles, blessed extraordinary wine, and broke homemade bread. The universe’s purpose may remain a mystery, but gratitude, community, and joy felt deeply meaningful.
From those quiet hills, I traveled to a very different setting: two full days at the Vatican, at a convening led by the American Security Foundation, which was focused on ensuring that artificial intelligence protects human dignity and is developed with ethics and caution.
This gathering was far larger, with nearly fifty people – mostly evangelicals, Catholics, LDS elders, and policymakers focused on religious liberty. What struck me was just how much agreement there was across faith and political lines in this group. On so many issues – abortion, gun control, climate change, vaccines – moral messaging diverges sharply. Yet, with AI safety and ethics, there was broad consensus here: center humanity, ensure transparency, protect children, fight bias, safeguard privacy, and promote the common good. This is an area where most religious leaders – including liberal ones – are small-c conservative, and that is a genuine strength.
In that group, I believe I did add one important nuance. The term “Judeo-Christian values” came up a few times, and I gently pushed back. Judaism and Christianity are distinct traditions with distinct worldviews. Those differences are not obstacles – they are assets. To their credit, the organizers immediately shifted their language, emphasizing the importance of diverse perspectives. We signed a letter that advances the field of “algorethics,” including the values of accuracy, transparency, privacy, security, and human dignity and the common good. We hope it will influence policy leaders, religious leaders and maybe even Silicon Valley executives.
On December 11th, I’ll continue this conversation at Temple Square in Salt Lake City with LDS elders, followed by planned gatherings in Israel in the spring of 2026 and Taipei in the fall. What struck me in both Tuscany and Rome is that beneath it all, humanity is asking not “Why are we here?” but “What do we do while we are here?”
Science and technology give us extraordinary tools to explore the universe, our minds, and our creations. But as Marcelo Gleiser reminds us in his new book The Blind Spot, all science – and technology – remains one part of the human story. We only ever see a slice of reality. And as technology, especially artificial intelligence, continues to develop and change our relationships to each other and the wider world, we need to be reminded of both our power and our limitations.
As we enter into a new world, struggling to ind and create meaning, perhaps the greatest purpose of humanity is to make sure we stay human.
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