No, a Chatbot Can’t Preach a Good Sermon
Photo by Corey Young on Unsplash
Lex orandi lex credendi: as we worship, so we believe. This is a very old idea, dating back at least to the fifth century. It is wise to remind ourselves of it from time to time. The songs we sing, the way in which we administer and receive the sacraments, the prayers we utter, and the manner in which we proclaim the gospel shape our beliefs. The primary function of worship is not didactic, but we do learn from it. Ritual forms our hearts and minds.
What then would it mean for the liturgy, the sermon, and the leadership of a worship service to come from a computer program? Into what faith will such acts form us? How will such practices shape our beliefs about ourselves and God?
Ready or not, we’re going to find out. A recent article in AP News asked the question, “Can a chatbot preach a good sermon?” In Fuerth, Germany, hundreds of Protestant worshipers gathered in St. Paul’s church to participate in a service created almost entirely by artificial intelligence and led by avatars.
The ChatGPT chatbot, personified by an avatar of a bearded Black man on a huge screen above the altar, then began preaching to the more than 300 people who had shown up on Friday morning for an experimental Lutheran church service almost entirely generated by AI.
“Dear friends, it is an honor for me to stand here and preach to you as the first artificial intelligence at this year’s convention of Protestants in Germany,” the avatar said with an expressionless face and monotonous voice.
The 40-minute service — including the sermon, prayers and music — was created by ChatGPT and Jonas Simmerlein, a theologian and philosopher from the University of Vienna.
“I conceived this service — but actually I rather accompanied it, because I would say about 98% comes from the machine,” the 29-year-old scholar told The Associated Press.
According to the article, the sermon focused on “leaving the past behind, focusing on the challenges of the present, overcoming fear of death, and never losing trust in Jesus Christ.” Yes, you could make this stuff up, but it would be the stuff of cynical, dystopian cinema.
AI and Preaching
The question of the article’s headline: “Can a chatbot preach a good sermon?” rests on the false premise that a chatbot can preach. Some consideration of the act of preaching is in order here. At one level, preaching is simply the announcement of God’s saving work in Jesus Christ. Can a chatbot convey the orthodox faith? Yes. It can mimic the thoughts and words of the faithful across the ages.
But preaching is more than the bare conveyance of content. It is testimony to God’s saving work. It is born out of knowledge of God received through the means of grace, primarily Scripture. A good preacher is like an experienced guide who walks with us through the varied terrain of a redeemed life. We can receive the preacher’s invitation because he or she travels these paths alongside us. Christians are pilgrim folk, and we entrust the proclamation of the gospel to those who have invested themselves deeply in the pilgrimage.
This is why it is such a problem when a minister is exposed as unethical, or at least insincere. Like a chatbot, unfaithful preachers can say the right words and convey the right information, but if we know they don’t believe what they are saying or that their lives do not reflect what they proclaim, their words lose their power.
There is also another dimension to the act of preaching. We often describe the best sermons we hear as “inspired.” Put differently, God has guided the proclamation in such a way as to draw the hearers to himself. Sometimes we describe preaching as a prophetic act. Thus we pray, “May the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable unto you, O Lord my rock and my redeemer” (Ps 19:14). God works through us in the act of preaching and accomplishes more than we ever could on our own. The preacher is here a willing vessel, yielded to God in prayer and humility. Software can’t do this.
Can a chatbot preach a good sermon? No. We may as well ask whether a dump truck can be a good therapist. If these comments on the act of preaching ring true, then a chatbot cannot technically preach. It can give the appearance of preaching, but it cannot testify to the truth of its utterances. It may have the form of preaching, but not the power.
AI and Liturgy
What about liturgy? If a chatbot cannot preach authentically, can it write and lead liturgy for us? Liturgy represents our collective prayer and praise. A computer program, however, cannot pray, nor can it praise God. At best it can create an amalgamation of pious phrases that mimic other liturgies. When all is said and done, a chatbot liturgy is just a clever compilation, and a chatbot worship leader is just an illusion. Avatars cannot truly praise God. Like an AI-generated sermon, they can only offer the form of religion without the power.
Acts 19 recounts a story in which the sons of Sceva tried to cast out demons by using Jesus’ name. Yet they did not follow Jesus. They did not honor him, love him, or confess him as savior. Thus their use of his name lacked power. They were bested by a demon and fled naked and bleeding. Jesus’ name is not an enchantment. When we use the name of Jesus, we are calling upon one whom we know and love, or at least one whom we want to know and love. We human beings were made to know and love God, and our hearts are restless until they rest in him.
What are human beings that you are mindful of them?
This brings us to another key issue related to AI worship: human beings are unique creatures. We are made “a little lower than angels” (Ps 8:5). We uniquely bear the image of God (Gen 1:27). Our bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit (1 Cor 6:19). To redeem all of creation, God became human in Jesus Christ. There is a unique relationship between God and humankind. Nothing can take the place of this lived, embodied existence we are called to offer up as a holy and living sacrifice in union with Christ.
Consider, for example,the first question of the Westminster Shorter Catechism:
Q: “What is the chief end of man?”
A: “Man's chief end is to glorify God and enjoy him forever.”
To glorify God and enjoy him forever is not the chief end of ducks or sunbeams or pineapples, or, for that matter, computers. The relationship between God and humankind is unique.
Consider also the following statement from the Roman Catholic Catechism: “The desire for God is written in the human heart, because man is created by God and for God; and God never ceases to draw man to himself. Only in God will he find the truth and happiness he never stops searching for.” It continues with a statement from the Second Vatican Council: “The dignity of man rests above all on the fact that he is called to communion with God.”
It is consistent with the created nature of human beings that all of our preaching and worship arise out of the interaction between the human spirit and the Spirit of God. Through divine revelation, God teaches us orthodoxy—literally “right praise”—and we offer this praise back to God in gratitude for his manifold blessings. To outsource our proclamation, praise, and prayers to software programs is lazy, vapid, and possibly heretical.
Lex orandi, lex credendi
Here is my fear: many Protestant denominations will lack the will to drill down into these issues, address them sufficiently, and provide relevant teachings for their churches. They will too easily opt for what “seems right” or “feels right.” They will go with what “works”—what fills the pews. The prophets of pragmatism will tell us this is a missional opportunity and curse the “gatekeepers” and “Pharisees” who stand athwart their efforts.
But the old saying remains true: lex orandi, lex credendi. As we worship, so we believe. To diminish the human element in preaching and worship diminishes the relationship between humanity and God. Since God became human, died on a cross, and rose from the dead to restore that relationship, wisdom compels us to attend to it with the greatest of care, indeed with fear and trembling.
David F. Watson is Academic Dean and Professor of New Testament at United Theological Seminary in Dayton, Ohio. He serves as Lead Editor of Firebrand.