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.

2024 in a Tech-Shaped Culture: 5 New Year's Resolution for The Church

Happy New Year!

As we turn the page to another year, here are five resolutions that I hope the church can keep in the months ahead. Each of these resolutions addresses or aligns with the values that shape our tech-shaped culture (values that I wrote about in "Grace and Gigabytes").

Resolution 1: Preach More Lived Stories and Fewer Theological Abstractions

Secularization has accelerated. Church attendance has plummetted. Belief in the trasncendent, let alone the dogma of organized religion, is constantly contested. In this default context of fragmentation and disbelief, the church cannot afford to preach the language of abstraction.

What is abstraction?

Abstraction is a claim about God that is made without a supporting story, example, or illustration.

In the year ahead, let's resolve to tilt the balance in our preaching towards to the lived stories of God's work in our contexts. Let's resolve to proclaim so many lived stories in our context that we discern a common "watch word," or statement of how God shows up in the particulars of our time and place.

Resolution 2: Enrich In-Person Conversations through Digital Content

As we continue to move beyond the pandemic, live streaming has become less appealing as a regular worship habit. According to Gallup, only 5% of Americans are attending services remotely.

Still, digital ministry will continue to serve as the front door to visitors and guests, necessitating that we continue to offer online worship.

What will happen to digital ministry? We might shift to a content-supported model of digital ministry, in which we create and distribute digital content in service to furthering the dialogues started through our liturgies. We might move from events (streaming worship, for example) to posts and stories that enrich our understanding of a topic and expand our theological imagination. This is the model we've tested at Good Shepherd with "Conversation Sundays" - discussions that start in worship and are furthered through digital content in the week ahead.

Resolution 3: Make Space for AI Experimentation

AI is a once-in-a-generation technological leap. AI will shape our culture, and how our culture makes meaning, in ways that we can only begin to imagine. This new technology will inevitably change not just how we execute tasks but how we process information - how we come to learn something, how we come to believe in something.

It's no exaggeration. AI will change what it means to have faith.

The church cannot sit by idly and observe the AI disruption. We must be active experimenters. From creating digital content based on sermon manuscripts to writing newsletters with chatbots, from using ChatGPT to help us articulate personal faith stories to using text to image generators for our newsletter and website, we must resolve to voraciously experiment with these new tools.

Resolution 4: Teach Tech Sabbath as a Spiritual Practice

Just as AI has the potential to be used for purposeful ministry, it can also create a vicious cycle that further retrenches us in digital isolation. As AI creates better content it will command more of our focus. As it consumes more of our attention, we become more enmeshed in the content of our screens.

Tech Sabbath, whether practiced regularly for an hour or for an entire day of the week, is the defiant claim that these vicious cycles do not have ultimate power over my being. To practice a Tech Sabbath is to remember that we are created for much more than digital consumption.

Resolution 5: Model Gratitude as a Leadership Practice

I recently heard Professor Tom Thibodeau define servant leadership in three parts. Prof. Thibodeau suggested that the first job of a leader is to define reality. The second job of a leader is to say thank you. Everything in between is service.

We live in a world where gratitude is missing - or where it is so shallow and superficial that it loses all meaning. When our technology accelerates our communication, we tend to jettison that which is most essential: expressions of thanks, and articulations of our stories. Each is fundamental to the formation of trust. Yet both become increasingly absent the faster we move.

In the year ahead, let's resolve to model how to set aside the drive towards productivity to give meaningful thanks for the service we receive, and to give thanks for those who serve at our side.

In all contexts, in any forums, we are called to partake in the spiritual practice of gratitude in ways that are deep, meaningful, and enriching.

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@ryanpanzer would like to wish everyone a Blessed 2024!

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AI for Ministry: How Churches Could Use ChatGPT

This post is the second in a series on the intersection of Christianity and artificial intelligence. The first post in the series, which explores how AI may challenge what it means to be church online, is available here.

Creatio ex nihilo.

Latin for "Creation out of nothing."

This phrase is foundational to the Christian doctrine of God, which posits that God is the one who creates matter where previously there was none.

When ChatGPT was released last November, it seemed like a digital tool that could also create something out of nothing, producing everything from children's stories to song lyrics with minimal prompting. In fact, ChatGPT does not create from nothing. ChatGPT's creations are the product of a highly sophisticated model that ingests the contents of the internet and produces coherent answers through a process of prediction.

Of course, these answers aren't always accurate, nor are they always coherent. And there are many ways that these tools could be used for malevolent purposes. Indeed there has been a loud and clear outcry about the potential harms from systems like ChatGPT. Still, these tools also have the potential to make our lives easier. They can help us to generate and organize our ideas. They can provide structure to our communications. They can give us templates to kickstart the creative process. So while there are real risks of artificial intelligence, ranging from job displacement to violence on a global scale, there is also the hope that these systems can make us more effective, as individuals and organizations, leading to greater human flourishing.

Churches have a real opportunity to utilize AI systems to enhance our ministries. If we learn to use tools like ChatGPT, we can create practices that enhance, rather than replace, our ministries. As church resources from budgets to staffing continue to decline, these AI tools can help us to create digital content. They can help us to communicate more effectively. They can even help us to be better teachers of the Gospel.

Using ChatGPT to curate and create church digital content

33% of mainline Protestant adults attend church weekly. 25% of mainline Protestants never attend church. Just over 40% attend church sporadically. ChatGPT can help congregations reach infrequent church-goers, connecting them to the messages and themes first proclaimed from the altar and the pulpit.

Moreover, AI tools can help frequent church-goers to engage more deeply with what they heard from lessons, prayers, and preaching.

A sermon manuscript is a powerful resource for creating digital content. When a preacher writes 1,500 or more words for a sermon manuscript, he or she creates a resource that can be expanded upon or repackaged, shared with the broader community as it moves from the sanctuary into day to day vocations.

1. Instruct ChatGPT to create a Tweet or Facebook post based on your most recent sermon manuscript

2. Paste your sermon into the chat

3. View your ChatGPT-created social post

4. Provide feedback to refine the post

5. Edit and post to social media

Using ChatGPT to organize church communications

I've never been a member of a church that is lauded for its clear and consistent communications. Chances are, no matter how effectively you send newsletters and share announcements, someone is going to feel like you are leaving something out!

While AI cannot solve all of these challenges, ChatGPT can at least provide your communications with a consistent, repeatable framework.

Think of ChatGPT as a dictation assistant. AI can take an unformatted list of what is coming up next in the ministry and provide a template for a newsletter.

1. Input what's happening this week in your ministry

2. Instruct ChatGPT to write a newsletter

3. Include instructions to write a short reflection on a verse from next week's readings

4. Provide feedback to refine the post, then edit yourself for accuracy, clarity, and consistent tone.

Using ChatGPT to teach the Gospel

ChatGPT has been trained on a library of the world's sacred texts, and ostensibly some of its most influential commentaries.

While AI is by no means an authoritative theological research, it knows enough about the basic structure and narrative arcs of scripture to at least provide a teachable outline. These outlines can be adapted to the needs of specific audiences: age, school year, even familiarity with the subject matter. And while you'll need to scrutinize the theological outputs of any chatbot, AI tools can provide you with a well-organized lesson outline that has a coherent flow and sequence.

ChatGPT can be an especially useful assistant anytime a substitute teacher is needed, or when you aren't sure where to start. In the following examples, ChatGPT creates a 20 minute lesson plan for a group of Confirmation students in the Lutheran church.

While the hands-on learning activity (a "freedom collage") may not be particularly effective, the outline is a highly useful tool for organizing your lesson.

To create your own lesson plan:

1. Provide background on your learners and their familiarity with the subject matter.

2. Mention any time constraints.

3. Include the context of the ministry, such as the denomination or any core theological convictions.

4. Instruct ChatGPT to create a lesson plan.

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Challenges and issues abound with the use of AI in the church. ChatGPT may not be the best theologian. It's certainly not a great pastor. And it's ability to create personalized, immersive content might turn us away from community, drawing us further inward.

Still, in a time of dwindling budgets and resources, it can provide something invaluable to ministries in a digital age. It can spark the creative process. As we seek to create Christian community, AI may prove to be a practical assistant.

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@ryanpanzer is the author of two books on digital ministry. No chatbots were harmed in the making of this blogpost.

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