Preaching comprises a whole panoply of hard-won skills. We shortcut this process to our peril.
Should you use A.I. in preaching?
Whether we wish it to be the case or not, generative artificial intelligence and large language models, such as ChatGPT, Claude, Gemini, and others, are here and here to stay. As preachers, whose stock-in-trade is words and the Word, we cannot help but care about where this conversation is going.
Few, if any of us, will make the case for simply proclaiming A.I.-generated sermons, lock, stock, and barrel. But how about as an aid along the way to the pulpit? Should we use these tools in our preparation to preach? And if not, why not?[1]
Arguments for A.I. Sermon Prep
Arguments in favor of using A.I. and LLM’s in preaching generally fall into three categories: technological agnosticism, pastoral realism, and historical precedent.
For some, A.I. is simply to be regarded as a technological tool, and like any tool (so it is said) it can be used for good or ill. Therefore, just as we make use of the internet and digital tools like Logos Bible software, so also, we can make use of ChatGPT. It is value neutral. What matters is the intent and practice of the user. What is more, ignoring these tools may mean ignoring a potentially valuable asset for mission. Where would the Church be if she eschewed the internet, radio, or even the printing press?
There is also the matter of pastoral realism. Pastor’s lives are busy. They have important work to do in tending the flock and seeking the lost. Some thus contend that time saved in sermon preparation could be reallocated to pastoral care, administration, evangelism, and so on. Not to mention, sermons sourced from Claude may even have significant improvements over those prepared by your everyday pulpit-dweller which are clearer, more doctrinally precise, and with more engaging illustrations. For harried pastors, by this logic, A.I. could be a godsend.
Finally, there is the historical precedent. None other than Augustine condones the practice of pastors preaching another’s sermon. The middle ages saw the genesis of postils, books of homilies for use especially by novice or lightly educated preachers. Luther himself published such volumes. And in more recent times there have been publications such as Concordia Pulpit Resources, which commonly have at least sermon outlines and oftentimes complete manuscripts for use. Thus, the argument is that A.I. is simply another chapter in this story, and a more sophisticated and bespoke one at that.
For these and surely other reasons that could be adduced, there are some today who argue pastors can and, indeed, should use A.I. in their preaching.
I am not sold. Let me tell you why.
For the preacher, to be perfectly honest, part of the satisfaction of preaching is precisely the struggle.
Why not A.I.?
First, with respect to the supposed neutrality of these tools, I think we should be very wary. In recent decades, the field of media ecology has helped us to appreciate the way in which our tools, especially our digital tools, shape our view of the world, often in ways that run counter to faith. Certainly, the creators of these large language models are not neutral, and most are operating from a decidedly unbiblical worldview. Arguments from neutrality are suspect at best.
Second, to the appeal to pastoral realism: I call foul. In a recent class, the question was raised how the nuanced ideas of one homiletician became warped by preachers over the years. One astute student promptly raised his hand and said, “I don’t know the history, but I do know pastors can be lazy.” I do not think we pastors are uniquely lazy among all professions, but neither do I think (“simul” that we are) we are shining exceptions to the norm, either. The notion that preachers would take all the time saved in sermon prep thanks to A.I. and rededicate it toward evangelism calls and catechesis is a lovely thought. It is also misguided.
The point about historical precedents is tricky. It is inarguably the case that Christians through the ages have leaned on other preachers for help, but a couple points may be made. In most cases, it has been a concession to weakness, not a statement of the ideal. Contemporary pastors who have had the benefit of seminary education are not illiterate priests toiling away on the margins of the empire in the fourth or fifth century. And even then, note well that they were relying on the help of other flesh-and-blood, Spirit-filled human preachers, not a lifeless algorithm cobbling together sermons from the web.
So, I remain unpersuaded by the apologists for A.I. in ministry generally and preaching in particular. But there is still more to be said.
Habits of the preacher’s heart
Preachers relying on A.I. will be susceptible to skill erosion. Commenting on a recent research paper put from MIT entitled “Your Brain on ChatGPT,” author Cal Newport remarks:
“In a learning environment (read: Pastor’s Study), the feeling of strain is often a by-product of getting smarter. To minimize this strain is like using an electric scooter to make the marches easier in military boot camp; it will accomplish this goal in the short term, but it defeats the long-term conditioning purposes of the marches.”
Preaching comprises a whole panoply of hard-won skills, including biblical exegesis, pastoral sensitivity, creative composition, and engaging delivery, all peppered with prayer. We shortcut this process to our peril.
This has further, even more profound, consequences for both the hearers and the preacher.
For the hearers, from a rhetorical standpoint a significant part of what makes a sermon resonate is how it overflows from the heart of the preacher. But what if that heart, content with digital shortcuts, fails to be formed and filled by the Spirit through the Word of God and prayer? The congregation can tell when her shepherd has wrestled with God through His Word. With a limp in his gait, he proclaims hard-won wisdom. In the providence of God, message and messenger are intimately tied together. Not for nothing did Christ endeavor to send men to preach, rather than simply being content with words on a page, much less bytes on a screen.
And for the preacher, to be perfectly honest, part of the satisfaction of preaching is precisely the struggle. Psychologists have called the “effort paradox” the phenomenon of valuing experiences and outcomes precisely because they require effort, not in spite of the fact. Along these lines, in a recent post on art and artificial intelligence, Alan Noble writes:
“It seems to me that part of the essence of true creation is labor, striving, wrestling, and overcoming. It calls forth the virtue of courage to beat back the doubts and insecurities and fears, and surge up something fresh and true. It demands a presence in the world, a willingness to interact with creation and people, to touch things and be affected viscerally. This is true whether your creation is painting or photography, film, poetry, fiction, or nonfiction (or preaching - RT). The human element matters. It is a testament to the history of a person’s sacrifice of attention, and therefore love—if it is done right, for something worthwhile, something worth the attention and love of other people.”
I realize that not every pastor enjoys the preaching task as much as I do, or at all. But I believe “liberating” yourself of much of the blood, sweat, and tears that goes into the sermon may have unintended consequences. It may cut the heart out of pastoral ministry altogether.
-------
[1] This will hardly be the last word on a topic. I suspect the Church will be dealing with for the rest of my ministry. Shoot, even the new Pope has made it a focus of his leadership. Even so, I hope it is a starting point.
%20(1).jpg?width=36&height=36&name=untitled%20(16%20of%2039)%20(1).jpg){kind=small}
