Theological Education & Artificial Intelligence: How Seminaries Should Teach with ChatGPT

A new academic year has started. Students are scrolling syllabi and buying e-Books, while faculty and instructors dust-off PowerPoints and lecture notes. At the same time, academic institutions are grappling with a new technology: generative artificial intelligence. Suddenly, students can generate thorough summaries of assigned reading in a fraction of the time it takes to read the complete work. Moreover, students can generate complete (albeit substandard) essays and term papers from a chatbot. So much for the academic rigor of a curriculum emphasizing independent reading - and written work!

Much has been written about how colleges and graduate schools are adapting their curricula in response to this new technology. Group presentations, project work, and in-person written exams are replacing the take-home essay. Institutions of theological education need to make these same adjustments. Seminaries, however, are unique among graduate schools in that their response to AI needs to transcend the logistics of assigned work.

It is essential for seminary educators to collaborate with their students in exploring the ethical and developmental aspects of artificial intelligence. Unfortunately, cultural observers have mostly disregarded these factors, concentrating more on the contentious aspects of AI, such as its potential for abuse or the risk of job displacement.

AI is a major technology, and major technologies have moral and formative dimensions that we must work to understand. As Marshall McLuhan said, "We become what we behold. We shape our tools, and thereafter our tools shape us." Just how much will AI shape us? Well, if we are to believe Professor Andrew Ng of Stanford, one of the world's most influential experts on AI, AI will be the "new electricity." As with electricity, AI will change not just what we are capable of doing - but how we see the world around us.

Much of the broader higher education dialogue on AI has focused on the practicalities of its use in the classroom: will students plagiarize ChatGPT? Will chatbots displace the role of teaching assistants? These questions are important - but they are not the only considerations that we must take up. Those called to theological education are called to explore how AI shapes and forms today's culture - and by extension, how it forms today's church.

The questions posed by artificial intelligence vary by academic discipline. In Biblical studies, the questions involve hermeneutics. In my own testing, I have observed how chatbots can prooftext and substantiate seemingly any theological perspective. I can ask ChatGPT to identify Bible passages to support a contentious political belief. I can ask AI to use the Bible to substantiate my denomination's statement of faith. With AI, I can press the Bible into serving my worldview. What does it mean for Biblical interpretation when the scripture becomes a resource to be mined in support of a specific worldview? And how might church leaders respond by teaching a better way to read the scriptures?

In homiletics, the questions involve sermon development and sermon reception. Chatbots create quick, succinct summaries. How will that change the ability to listen to a sermon in its entirety? AI can summarize any long-form content - from a podcast to Karl Barth's Church Dogmatics. This technology is already capable of creating succinct summaries of text and video content (ie, a sermon recording). What happens to sermons when our society develops a preference for pithy summaries instead of original content? How does a preacher remain faithful to the text and to God in a context with a much shorter span of attention?

In systematic theology, the questions involve our core doctrines. I wonder specifically about AI's propensity to airbrush any imperfection - in our grammar, in our music, in our decision-making processes. How do we re-imagine the doctrine of creation when creatio ex nihilo (creation out of nothing) becomes the domain of generative chatbots? How do we re-imagine the doctrine of salvation in a world where our work can be polished and perfected with the assistance of AI?

In pastoral care, the questions involve trust and authority. A crisis of authenticity emerges as AI-generated content becomes ubiquitous. What becomes of trust and relationship in an online environment where AI-generated creations, deep fakes included, masquerade as the creations of human beings? And what happens to the pastor-parishioner bond when our culture poses the big questions first to ChatGPT - rather than the pastor?

That's not to say that artificial intelligence only contests faith formation and Christian community. Seminaries should also examine where AI promotes the flourishing of faith. Theological educators ought to experiment with where AI can be channeled towards spiritually nourishing ends, using AI generated content for conversation, discernment, and spiritual formation.

As I explored with Dr. Michael Chan in a post for Church Anew, GenAI is a powerful tool in giving coherence to our experiences. We can use AI to create a cohesive narrative of our faith experiences, one that edifies our own spirituality while connecting us more deeply across our faith communities. The theological educator might consider what it takes to faithfully articulate one's faith story with the assistance of a tool like ChatGPT. Christian communities can be formed to use AI to promote curiosity. The content it generates provides a sort of source material for deeply human conversations taking place in analog communities.

As students and educators embark on this new academic year, I am optimistic that seminaries and theological educators will take the lead in exploring these ethical and formative questions. By doing so, they can motivate a fresh cohort of church leaders who are not only knowledgeable in theology but also dedicated to advancing the church's mission in a world on the cusp of significant technological advancement.

--

@ryanpanzer graduated from Luther Seminary before it was possible to copy from ChatGPT.

--

How to Write a Faithful Sermon with AI and ChatGPT

Artificial intelligence will soon revolutionize sermon preparation. With the development of tools like ChatGPT, the process of crafting a sermon has become more efficient and accessible. Through the simple input of a passage from scripture, AI can generate a compelling sermon that can engage and inspire listeners. This technology has become a valuable resource for those who may lack the time or expertise to develop sermons from scratch, offering a helping hand to the resource-constrained pastor or parishioner.

Moreover, the capabilities of AI extend beyond just generating content. With additional context and details about the intended audience, artificial intelligence can tailor the sermon to resonate more deeply with the specific congregation. By understanding the theological nuances and preferences of the listeners, AI can craft a sermon that not only conveys the message effectively but also aligns with the beliefs and values of the audience.

While some may view the use of AI in sermon preparation as a shortcut or a compromise, it is important to recognize the potential benefits it brings to the table. By leveraging technology in this way, preachers can focus more on delivering the message and connecting with their congregation, rather than getting bogged down in the intricacies of sermon writing. Ultimately, artificial intelligence serves as a powerful tool that enhances the preaching experience and enables a more impactful delivery of spiritual teachings.

The problem is this. While an AI-generated sermon may be engaging, it is unlikely to be faithful.

Dr. Karoline Lewis of Luther Seminary defines a faithful sermon as having seven characteristics. In her books, Dr. Lewis argues that a faithful sermon is:

• Biblical

• Autobiographical

• Contextual

• Theological

• Intellectual

• Emotional

• Inspirational

AI-generated sermons can contribute to some of these characteristics. It can generate a sermon text that is intellectual, even emotional. But it will struggle to write a sermon that conveys the true voice of the preacher in a way that autobiographical, just as it will struggle to convey the true needs of the congregation in a way that is contextual. An algorithm might be able to provide historical and narrative context for a Gospel text, but connecting the text to particular stories within a church remains a deeply human task.

Moreover, artificial intelligence tools like ChatGPT cannot answer the complex questions put in front of the preacher - for example, how to reconcile the story of the text with the story of the preacher. Nor is AI particularly effective at working through dialectical tension (though to be real, many pastors aren't, either!).

Given such complexity, Dr. Lewis argues that preaching is both "art and craft." Any preacher can use ChatGPT to generate the text of a sermon manuscript. But the faithful preacher is still called to a complex process of a complex process of reflection, imagination, and articulation.

Thus, today's preachers could (and should!) use AI tools as a tool within the homiletical process. ChatGPT, Google Gemini, and other such tools can serve as a sermon co-pilot, providing the preacher with research and editing services. The sermon of the digital age ought to be AI-supported, not AI-generated. The future of faithful preaching is one where the preacher utilizes AI as any writer would utilize a librarian, copy-editor, or conversation partner.

Three ideas for using AI to craft a faithful sermon

Draw the narrative arc

Dr. Lewis' first characteristic of a faithful sermon is that it is Biblical, that it is proclaimed to help others become better readers of the Bible. Part of the responsibility is to help the context understand the narrative and literary arcs that are at work in a passage. Churches that utilize a lectionary may struggle to illustrate the narrative arcs that exist within scripture. At times, the lectionary's narrative progression is clear - during Holy Week or throughout the Lenten season. But lectionaries have a way of selecting texts that may seem disconnected to the average worshipper, whose attendance is sporadic and whose Biblical literacy is inconsistent.

Asking AI for the broader narrative context situates a text within the plot arcs or literary techniques that we may struggle to notice.

This last July, the Revised Common Lectionary gave us the Gospel story of Mark 6:14-29 - the beheading of John the Baptist. It is a gruesome Biblical text, one where Jesus is nowhere to be found. AI can situate this text within a larger narrative arc, while breaking down its literary structure so that it might be interpreted to today's reader.

Integrate the broader context

Dr. Karoline Lewis explains that a preaching context exists at multiple levels. All congregations have their own context - staffing changes and pastoral transitions, budget crises and new program launches, birthdays and anniversaries, funerals and Confirmations. But context also exists in the surrounding geographical community. Expanding further, context exists at the level of states and nations. And in an age of global interconnection, there is always a global context to be considered.

Generative AI gives us both a microscope and a telescope, empowering us to analyze the context at the level of the city or state as well as at the level of global trends. It can serve as a news aggregator, a curator of data and statistics, and a compiler of signficant trends in culture, politics, and society.

Prompts like "Connect the Gospel story of Mark 6:14-29 to our struggles with political polarization" can integrate this broader context. So can a prompt like "To what extent can Mark 6:14-29 speak to a congregation worried about future stability?" And while AI doesn't understand the specific situations of a particular ministry,

As with any content generated by AI, it is essential to fact-check the responses. AI often struggles with proper source attribution and can make significant errors. Therefore, it is crucial for pastoral leaders to verify the accuracy of these insights before incorporating them into their sermon material.

Edit, refine, and polish

Dr. Lewis contends that an effective sermon should also evoke emotions - emphasizing that it's not just about the content, but also about the delivery. One practical way to incorporate AI tools such as ChatGPT, Wix AI, or Grammarly into the sermon preparation is by utilizing them as copy-editors.

When utilizing AI as a preaching assistant, it's crucial to acknowledge that these tools offer more than just basic corrections. They can rectify spelling and grammar errors, but their capabilities extend much further. They can modify the tone, adjust the pacing of the narrative, inject humor, or trim lengthy sentences. In the near future, AI tools will be capable of guiding preachers on their verbal delivery, syncing with their schedule to allocate time for practice and feedback. Eventually, AI will serve as the editing and coaching companion that congregants would have wished preachers had enlisted years ago!

Faithful Preaching with AI

There are thus three paths for how preachers will utilize generative artificial intelligence.

One path is to ignore the development of this new technology, continuing to sermonize exactly as one did before the arrival of ChatGPT 3. One path is to delegate the sermon creation process to focus on other pastoral tasks. Given the strengths and limitations outlined in this blog post, both of these approaches are irresponsible.

The best path is to choose neither of these extremes, but to utilize AI as a co-pilot for situating a text, connecting it to a context, and presenting it clearly and effectively. If we develop these habits, perhaps we will also learn how to preach a faithful sermon with AI.

Learning How to Listen in a Digital Age

I recently read Timothy Egan's "A Pilgrimage to Eternity: From Canterbury to Rome in Search of a Faith." The travelogue depicts a multi-leveled journey. On one level, there is a physical trek through contemporary Europe. A a deeper level, there is a spiritual trek through Europe's Christian heritage. As Egan walks, he grapples with his own beliefs and faith commitments. Full of honesty and candor, Egan sets out to hear the voice of God amidst the frenetic pace of his experience. The book is captivating, raw, and poetic.

As he starts his walk from England to Italy on The Via Francigena, he encounters the first directive in The Rule of St. Benedict: "Listen." It is to be the watchword of his journey.

Again and again, Egan recalls the importance of listening to the Christian faith. Drawing upon the scriptures and the rules of St Benedict, the writings of the apostles and the teachings of Pope Francis, the book emphasizes how utterly essential listening is to a life of faith.

As I read Egan's memoir, I am struck by how he managed to re-connect to his faith. It was not through reason or logic as Augustine might instruct, nor through tradition, as some clerics might teach. He does not find his spiritual footing through attendance at mass or worship (in his memoir, he opts to skip such services when invited). Rather, the author found spiritual sustenance through silently walking the lonely passages of the Via Francigena. Clearly there is something to be said about how intentional, active listening makes us more likely to notice what God is up to in our midst.

Is it any wonder, then, that one's faith often feels contested in this digital age, a time defined by more noise, fewer conversations, and constant context switching?

Even when I try to be completely intentional about my listening, I am interrupted by texts and emails, Slack notifications and news alerts. I find it challenging to listen to members of my own family - let alone the voice of the divine!

But it's not just interruption that inhibits our willingness to listen.

It's that digital technology actively takes away opportunities to practice listening to one another. As digital tools for collaboration become more sophisticated and AI advances, I am able to work asynchronously and independently with increasing ease. The conversations and interactions I would have once required to solve a problem can now be solved through interaction with AI. The alignment I need with collaborators and co-workers can now be solved through updates and notifications on apps like Trello, JIRA, and Asana. Thus my week involves fewer actual discussions, fewer opportunities to listen.

Listening is also made more difficult by the expanding items on our to-do list. As AI and digital workplace tools make us more productive (at least in theory), we are expected to take on a more expansive set of commitments. If these tools reduce the weekly hours required for Project A from 40 to 20, then the supervisor will soon add Projects B and C to our list. And while these projects might not add more hours to our workweek, they will certainly add to our cognitive load. That's because a wider set of tasks on my list requires me to rapidly change contexts from one deliverable to the next. The pace of work in the digital age might not require us to work more hours. But it always requires us to pack more into the hours we work. This way of working depletes our capacity for focus and listening.

This isn't to say we shouldn't use AI or digital collaboration tools. These resources can remove much of the drudgery of our work lives, freeing us up to spend less time on mindless, rote tasks. If using an app like Monday.com or Confluence means I get back the hours I spend in tedious project update meetings I will gladly partake. If digital tools allow me to work remotely, to spend more time with family, than I'll gladly accept their requisite pings and dings. Simple unplugging is not the solution to the challenge of listening in contemporary culture.

Instead, we should return to Benedict's command to Listen.

I've heard it said that listening involves both "listening to respond" and "listening to understand." The former is a faster, more common form of listening, while the latter is more empathetic and relational. Yet I would suggest that these two levels of listening are not enough for what the life of faith demands.

Faith in a digital age is about listening to discern. That's the type of listening that Timothy Egan discovered while hiking the Via Francigena. And while most of us won't attempt a trans-continental pilgrimage, this type of listening afforded by the pilgrimage or other forms of contemplative practice can be a balm to the distracted souls of the digital age. Perhaps, then, growing in our faith isn't about believing more ardently, or praying more consistently, or attending church more regularly. Maybe its simply about learning how to listen.