Sermon for the 25th of June - Third Sunday after Trinity

Several weeks ago, I reflected a little on the relationship between science and religion. And I would like to continue this theme today. I would recommend Nick Spencer’s recent book Magisteria. He debunks the warfare narrative that often surrounds debates about science and religion. Throughout the book, he highlights two key themes.

The first is that of authority. Who has the right to pronounce on nature, the cosmos and reality?
Prior to the c.19, before the scientific endeavour became professionalised, a lot of the scientific work was conducted by devout clerical naturalists. From the 1860s, this changed. 1859 saw the publication of Charles Darwin’s book, On the Origin of the Species. It led to a series of debates in Oxford. In one concerning the scientific theory at the time, Huxley affirmed that science should be decided by scientists.

No Bishop, no matter how admired and erudite, should be in the position to adjudicate on issues of science.

It was a radical statement at the time and surely correct. However, if that’s the case for bishops, what about the authority of scientists. Whilst scientists certainly have authority to speak about the physical nature of things, surely they don’t have sole authority to pronounce on the ethical or spiritual dimensions of reality.
From the 1860s, it was recognised that science and religion are different disciplines each with their own grammar. That being the case, Stephan Jay Gould argued that we should keep science and religion in completely separate compartments. The world of facts and the world of values. Whilst there is some merit in this, it’s too neat a distinction. The thrust of Nick Spencer’s book is that science and religion are entangled.

And this can be seen in the second major theme of the book – what does it mean to be human? An important question with the rise of Artificial intelligence.

Archbishop Welby hasn’t said whether or not AI robots can be ordained.  I’m sure some Bishops would prefer an AI version, because they could be programmed to be ‘compliant’. In all seriousness, AI raises significant questions on what it means to be human.

For some scientists, this is a solely scientific question. Is that right? Well, it depends on what we mean by human. And here we move into the territory of theological anthropology. There are many areas where science and religion don’t overlap but the human being is emphatically not one of them.

To ask the question, ‘who is man’ is more of a theological question, because ‘who’ implies a someone, rather than a something. ‘Who is man’ gets us thinking about a person with agency, moral awareness, someone that bears the image of God. This is not the language of science, which instead asks what is man. Asking ‘what is man’ can be understood by means of detached observation and experiment.

There isn’t necessary a tension between these two approaches. Humans are of course material creatures, which can be observed and measured according to the methods of science. And they are spiritual beings who aspire to things like meaning, significance, transcendence, purpose, destiny, eternity and love
But if one approach becomes dominate and delegitimises the other, the effect is disastrous.

For example, Richard Dawkins argues that humans are machines, blindly programmed by its genes, safe inside lumbering robots. With no space for metaphysical questions, such sociobiologists make sweeping claims about life, humanity and morality.

The author of Sapiens, Yuval Noah Harari, flattens the rich complexity of what it means to be human – seeing life as a series of algorithms and humanity as no more than a mere ripple within the cosmic data flow.

If that’s correct, then there is no qualitative difference between a human and AI. If we define what it means to be human as intelligence, then AI is already far quicker to process data than we are.
The wisdom from Judeo-Christian tradition affirms that our existence is far more mysterious and wonderful. And that it’s impossible to reduce what it means to be human to a single feature, such as intelligence. Yes, humans are intelligent, but we are so much more!

And our intelligence is no more important than our creatureliness and our need for communion. To be human is be clever, but it’s also to be embodied, embedded, vulnerable, dependent and mortal. To be human is to love, to grieve, to experience depression and to experience joy…. Over millennia, such human embeddedness has created the most moving poetry and art and music and faith. This is what the biblical witness affirms:

Ps 139: ….it was you who formed my inward parts; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.

Genesis 1 tells us that we are made in the image and likeness of God, we have the spark of the divine and are to be afforded a non-negotiable dignity, regardless of colour, or creed, or social background, or sexuality, or what society deems ‘useful’. There is nothing we can do or be that will diminish our value before God. Our level of reason or creativity cannot add or take away anything from our worth to God or make us any less ourselves.

This is what religious faith might bring to the fizzing, speeding debate over the future metaphysical status of AI. It affirms the intrinsic value and rich complexity of all humanity. It reminds us to rejoice in our diversity, and it reminds us that our primary purpose is to love and be loved. As we continue to explore, understand and create, in the arts and the sciences, we must always remember that its loving relationships, rather than algorithms, that underpin everything.

I know that AI can write pretty good sermons – but in this United Benefice, I’m afraid you are going to have to put up with the team here.