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.

Leadership in a Tech-Shaped Culture: Three Book Recommendations to Ignite Your Year

Sam Bankman-Fried doesn't read.

Before his fraud trial, Bankman-Fried suggested that anyone who has written a book has "expletive upped," suggesting that they should have instead written a blog post. Perhaps the recently convicted king of crypto will change his mind on literacy as he awaits a maximum sentence of 110 years. And while the literary world enjoys a schadenfreude moment, it's worrisome that his sentiments are becoming increasingly widespread.

Americans are reading 20% fewer books than they read in the 1990s. They are also spending less time reading for pleasure. The average American reads just 16 minutes per day. By contrast, the average teen now spends 4.8 hours per day on social media, mostly on YouTube, TikTok, and Instagram. If Donald Trump captures the presidency this November, the country will be led by a non-reader who can't be troubled to read daily intelligence briefings, let alone books.

The decline of pleasure reading in our tech-shaped culture is a complex trend exacerbated by the explosion of algorithmic digital content, the constant acceleration of technology, and the proliferation of click-bait summaries in the news media. Too many of us lack the time, patience, and focus to read long-form writing.

Still, I was raised in an elementary school that taught that "readers are leaders" (or maybe it was the other way around). I developed a love of reading because I sensed how it contributed to an ongoing process of reflection and formation - and also because I earned a PizzaHut Personal Pan Pizza for each book report I completed. So with the conviction that focused, intentional reading advances the development of leadership skills, here are three book recommendations for harried, overworked, worried leaders who are navigating this tech-shaped culture.

Technopoly: The Surrender of Culture to Technology by Neil Postman

Neil Postman is best known for his 1985 work Amusing Ourselves to Death: Public Discourse in the Age of Show Business. While his 1985 book remains as relevant as ever, it analysis primarily focuses on the influence of entertainment.

"Technopoly" emerged eight years later, when Postman could see the emergence of electronic communication and personal computing. Postman argues that mankind has changed from a society that uses technology, to a society that is shaped by technology. For Postman, the invention of a hammer means that there is no such thing as "man with hammer." There is only "hammer man" - whose views of education, politics, and art are inextricably filtered through the unremovable lens of new technologies.

Technopoly is written with greater urgency and moral clarity than its predecessor. It is an essential read in a year where AI will continue its rapid advance, and where short form digital media will continue to redefine communication.

For the leader in a tech-shaped culture, Technopoly poses an urgent question: how might I protect communities and institutions from mindlessly succumbing to the worst impulses of this technological moment? Postman also challenges us to recognize that the answer to this question is far more complicated than simply deactivating one's Twitter profile.

Work Pray Code: When Work Becomes Religion in Silicon Valley by Carolyn Chen

Technology is not the only juggernaut affecting meaning-making. While Postman writes about the influence of technology, sociologist Carolyn Chen writes about the pervasive influence of the workplace on knowledge, belief, and meaning. While the case studies reflect on religion and spirituality, the book revolves around the core question of how we derive meaning in a growth-obsessed culture.

By tracing the stories of once-religious tech workers who relocated to Silicon Valley, Chen demonstrates the encroachment of the workplace into spheres once occupied by tradition. The mechanisms of this encroachment are often described by Silicon Valley corporations as amenities, or enhancements to workplace culture. From meditation programs that teach "scientific Buddhism" to coaching offerings that promise "inner transformation," the tech industry has used these cultural offerings to displace the role once held by pastors, rabbis, and spiritual directors. Not every workplace has such amenities. But our work is increasingly becoming a personal quest for meaning and purpose.

When work becomes a spiritual journey, it comes to define our sense of purpose. We work harder, we produce more deliverables, we work longer hours. One wonders, while reading Chen's work, what will happen to the Google engineer or the Facebook account manager upon the next round of layoffs.

Chen beckons today's leader to consider how the drive to innovate replaces deeply held values and identities with the demands of late capitalism. It reminds today's leader that if we fail to define values and vision for our organizations, the marketplace will step in to do so on our behalf.

Cloud Cuckoo Land by Anthony Doer

Our final recommendation is the fantastical story of how one particular narrative survived centuries of acceleration to sustain and inspire across the ages. In a world that is turning its back on literacy, Cloud Cuckoo Land mounts a vigorous defense of the long-form narrative.

Set in three different timelines (the Siege of Constantinople, a modern day library, and a futuristic space ship), Doer traces how an obscure Greek drama provides coherence and inspiration on a timeless scale.

Anthony Doer reminds us of the enduring connection between meaning making and stories. Though it is a long book, Cloud Cuckoo Land cautions us about a world in which there are no more stories - only fragments.

For the leader in a tech-shaped culture, Cloud Cuckoo Land invites us to reflect upon and to share the stories that are most significant in our own formation. For even when our work has been lost to the eons, our stories will remain.

--

@ryanpanzer is moving his social media activity from Twitter to GoodReads.

--