Dear St Giles’ and St Margaret’s church families,
As we journey together through the changing seasons of life, we find ourselves in a world increasingly shaped by technology—most notably, artificial intelligence. From medical breakthroughs to everyday conveniences, AI is transforming how we live, work, and relate to one another.
Yet amid this progress, we must ask: what does it mean to be human in an age of machines? Scripture reminds us that we are “fearfully and wonderfully made” (Psalm 139:14), created not merely for efficiency, but for love, compassion, and community. No algorithm can replicate the grace of a kind word, the warmth of shared prayer, or the mystery of faith.
Let us not fear these changes, but approach them with discernment and hope. AI may assist us, but it must never define us. Our calling remains unchanged: to love God and neighbour, to seek justice, and to walk humbly.
May we be wise stewards of these new tools, using them to uplift rather than diminish, to connect rather than isolate. And may we always remember that our true identity lies not in data, but in the divine image in which we are made.
In case you hadn’t guessed yet, all of the text above was not written by me, but by an AI chatbot (specifically Microsoft Copilot, based on GPT). I simply asked it to “write me a 200 word vicar’s letter, addressed to my parishioners, about artificial intelligence in our society” and it came out with this.
I wonder what you thought of it – before or after you realised the truth. I have to say that I was quite impressed. As a vicar’s letter, I doubt it would have revolutionised anyone’s faith or worldview, but then I don’t suppose that happens very often anyway! The style may be a bit stilted, but the content is, I think, fundamentally sound – and I didn’t even try to refine it beyond the initial output.
In some ways, this is all quite scary. At Greenbelt Festival last year, I went to a talk on AI by the author Kester Brewin. He said that he was not only confident that AI algorithms would be able to create art, poetry, music or fiction as well as any human being, but that he was quite relaxed about this development. Because, he said, it wouldn’t mean anything, there was no human heart that had gone into it.
I’m beginning to wonder if that’s true. At the moment, admittedly, the Internet is full of ‘AI slop’, content which is produced en masse either just for fun or to drive engagement, or (more sinisterly) to mislead and misdirect.
But if in the future we find ourselves moved to tears by music, or inspired to reflect on our own moral understanding, or simply entertained by things created by AI – especially if we can’t tell what has originated in a human soul as opposed to a machine’s code – where does that leave us? What does it mean to be human, a loved child and creation of God, in these new times?
We may want to wish AI away, and there are certainly troubling aspects about it – not least the environmental impact created by huge ‘server farms’ of computers. But in truth, AI is not going anywhere. It may be tempting to bury our heads in the sand and pretend none of this is happening. But as communities committed to making the love of our God known – here and now, in this place – it is vital that we engage with these questions.
Perhaps Copilot is right, Psalm 139 might be a good place to start: “you knit me together in my mother’s womb”, says the psalmist. If we want to be pedantic, we could say that’s not technically true, that we know now that we are the product of evolution, of DNA, of hereditary and environmental factors involved in conception, gestation and birth.
And yet that is not all we are. As Christians we worship a God of creation, who knows and loves us more than we can comprehend. Are these models new forms of life – or might they be, one day? And if so, might they one day join in our praise to our own creator God: “you yourself created my inmost parts”?