Two very different stories, bound together (at least in my mind) by the issue of taking responsibility.
The first story concerns a first (presumably) worship service mostly created and led by artificial intelligence (AI). Kind of amazing that the country that birthed the Reformation is now being noted in the news for a gathering of Protestant church leaders who also witnessed or participated this different kind of first.
Hardly surprising at the responses of some in attendance, ranging from wonder at the technology (rather than the Gospel!?) to a recognition that a computer-generated sermon delivered by an avatar is hardly a fitting replacement for a human pastor. Wonderful to think the Church can struggle for the next ten years or so not just with the issue of which humans should be ministers (men, women, homosexuals, transgenders and???) but whether ministers need to be human.
As a pastor I’m appalled at this, even as I’m impressed by the technology that’s developed in just the past 25 years. But technology is just a tool. When technology replaces the distinctly human privilege of sharing the good news of Jesus Christ both with the faithful in need of forgiveness and strengthening as well as with those living in the hopelessness of atheism or false belief much is lost in the transmission. An AI can emulate a person to a certain degree (a degree that will only increase with time without ever reaching 100%), but is not a person. There’s something about a man with a soul, grappling with the reality of his own sinfulness and mortality conveying the Word of God to other human beings grappling with their sinfulness and in need of the assurance of God’s grace through Jesus Christ. The words an AI say might be identical, but it speaks as a tool, not as someone created in the image of God. AI is created in human image, which is very different.
The second story is a heart-wrenching story of a mother’s struggle with her depressed child who wants to die. It’s heartbreaking such situations occur – and occur with greater frequency these days. This story caught my eye because the child is 10 years old. At an age when children should be occupied with school and friends and learning and play, this child is preoccupied with the existential angst and crisis of the world.
It’s a complex report, for the most part, and only at the very end is a slight hint given that some of this girl’s struggles might be because of the inundation and brain-washing of educational facilities and media loading children with fears of the impending end of the world. It’s not clear that’s what the author intends but it’s odd to bring in comments about the world we have created for them (children) does not work for them.
But I think that intended or not the wording is quite accurate. We are force feeding our children (collectively, in the West) a world we have created. As our culture has decided to relegate religion entirely to the private sphere as a matter of choice, to be indulged in as a caregiver might indulge a delusional patient, but to be quickly dismissed in any matter of public policy or other forms of importance. The world children are given today is a world devoid of hope. A world reliant upon the confidences and abilities of human beings who, predictably, demonstrate their utter inability to do what they most want and try to do in terms of creating a safe and sustainable world. Children today have been gifted with a world devoid of hope. As mere blips in an evolutionary timeline there is no greater meaning or purpose conveyed or possible in such a conceptualization. The best we can do is enjoy ourselves, which media bombards us with in terms of personal gratification in almost every area. But even this is no solution as our over-indulgence is, apparently, destroying the world, speeding up our existential angst as we race against a clock we think we have made or unmade.
I can’t blame the girl for being depressed if even a fragment of the world we have created is the world she assumes to be real and true.
The parents’ efforts for their daughter’s well-being are impressive and aided by probably a higher level of material resources at their disposal than most. Yet it isn’t enough. Isolation, medications, therapies – none of these are able to remove the girl’s depression. Any number of agents are implicated in all of this from schools to insurance companies to political realities to an under-equipped mental health infrastructure.
These are all the assumed sources of healing. They are supposed to be able to fix their daughter, to relieve her depression and desire to self-harm. And in the best of situations perhaps they can indeed provide some level of assistance. But they are not able to provide the one thing the world we have created lacks most noticeably, needs most desperately, but is definitionally (our definitions) unable to provide: hope. Meaningful, credible, real hope. Not simple distraction or culturally acceptable self-medications but real, solid hope.
There can be no real hope in a self-defined world limited to cause and effect and devoid of any entity more powerful and more good than human beings. If we are just an accident of evolution and the universe itself is just a blip of a multiverse or a repeated big-bang cycle (neither very helpful assertions but apparently the best we’ve got at this point) then there is no meaning. Even our self-created meaning is meaningless because who’s to say our meaning is actually meaningful to anyone beyond ourselves? And even our own self-meaning is prone to the wild swings of culture as to what is acceptable, permissible, tolerable.
There’s no mention in the article of God, though there is, curiously enough, a reference to hell at the end. There’s no mention of this girl’s life experiences that might contribute to such crushing hopelessness, other than that her parents are divorced (though working together on their daughter’s behalf admirably despite this).
Why shouldn’t this girl be depressed, even at such a young age? Why shouldn’t more of us be crushingly depressed if the world we have created has no actual hope in it? Statistics indicate that depression is definitely at all time highs. Other, unrelated studies point to massive rises in self-medication, whether wine and alcohol or legal or illegal drugs. And of course the speeding whirlwind of violence continues to suck at our collective soul. The world we have created is a world where depression should reign supreme. And it certainly, more and more, seems to be king.
But that king is not the real king. And the world we have created is not the real world. We’ve tacked up black paper over every human instinct (and there are quite a few of them it seems) towards something greater than ourselves. We’ve screamed out prayer in schools and screamed for the right to murder unborn babies we deem inconvenient. We refuse to acknowledge the beauty of creation and insist on creating new, artificial ways to amuse and impress ourselves. Which of course entails greater burdens of crushing debt in even the richest countries in the world.
The author concludes by condemning our old systems, which never worked and still don’t work. And she’s right, if she’s talking about man-made systems, the world we have created. Such systems have never worked, whether they involved apples in a garden, forbidden towers, blind and deaf theocracy, or the reliance on strictly Aristotelian definitions of reality that are, conveniently enough, completely and solely dictated by human beings and our senses. Such systems have never been able to bear the weight of actually being reality.
But hope isn’t found in any of those. Hope is found in the original system, a system that was beautiful and perfect and declared very good by its creator. Hope is found in acknowledging our substitutes have never worked and can never work. Only the Creator’s system can work. Only in embracing the truth of reality that we are not gods and were never designed to carry such authority and attempting to only continues to twist us down and inward in more and more grotesque ways.
Only in accepting the truth that we are created not just for one another – which the girl sees as her missing peer group and the mother suspects might be her increased presence in her daughter’s life due to losing her job – but also for our Creator. Only in accepting, as Augustine so beautifully described 1700-some years ago, that we are never going to be satisfied until we know who we are in relation to the God who created us. Only in accepting that there is hope but not hope on our terms or by our methods, but a hope that lies beyond our control, our ability to manipulate, subvert, or otherwise unfairly profit by or damage others with. A hope radically based in one man who demonstrated He was more than just a man by refusing to stay dead. A hope based in the past, present, and eternal reality of Jesus the Christ. A hope that means that girl’s loneliness can begin to disintegrate as she experiences the reality of a God with her and for her.
A hope that can and should be fed by a community of Christian, Biblical faith, which I pray this family finds. And I pray that if and when they do, it’s a real man in the pulpit and not an AI.