I Asked A.I. to Write My Christmas Sermon

I first heard about ChatGPT on Twitter. Some professor friends of mine were surprisingly worried about the possibility that students would use the artificial intelligence chat to plagiarize their final essays. At the time, the furor struck me as more than a little over the top. Plagiarism is comedically easy to spot, particularly when attempted by the baselessly confident college student. Another week passed and the panic spread to several news outlets. This Twitter fad seemed to be on the verge of becoming a phenomenon.

A few mouse clicks later and I had signed up. Upon request, the A.I. told me about the significance of Martin Luther’s distinction between law and gospel with surprising acumen. Book reports of recently published theology books were then produced by the A.I. with moderate success.

Emboldened, I then asked the A.I. to summarize my own currently unpublished Phd thesis. The A.I. was about 60% accurate. Now intoxicated by the power of my new toy, I then decided to throw a hail Mary, typing out the following, fairly simple, prompt:

“Write a Christmas Sermon based upon Luke’s birth narrative, with quotations from Karl Barth, Martin Luther, Irenaeus of Lyon, and Barack Obama.”

Dear reader, I was not prepared for what the A.I. would concoct:

As we gather together on this joyous Christmas day, let us reflect on the incredible birth narrative of Jesus as recorded in the Gospel of Luke.

Luke tells us that the angel Gabriel appeared to Mary, a virgin betrothed to Joseph, and announced to her that she would give birth to the Son of God. Mary was understandably puzzled and asked the angel, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” The angel replied, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be called holy —the Son of God.”

Mary, filled with faith and trust in God’s plan, responded with humility and obedience, saying, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” And so, the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth.

As Karl Barth wrote, “The Word became flesh in the virgin’s womb, not in the sense that the divine Word was changed into human flesh, but rather in the sense that the divine Word took human flesh upon himself and became a human being.” In other words, the birth of Jesus was not simply a human event, but a divine one as well. The Word, who was with God in the beginning and through whom all things were made, became a human being in the person of Jesus Christ.

Martin Luther, the great reformer, wrote that the incarnation of Jesus was a “miracle of miracles,” a “wondrous work” that reveals the love and grace of God. Through the incarnation, God chose to dwell among us, to share in our humanity and to redeem us from sin and death. As Luther said, “The Word became flesh in order to make us partakers of the divine nature and to deliver us from the tyranny of sin and death.”

This is the Good News of Christmas: that God, through the incarnation of Jesus, has reconciled us to himself and given us the hope of eternal life. As Irenaeus of Lyon wrote, “The Word of God became man, that we might be made the children of God; and he manifested himself through means of a body, that we might receive the adoption as sons.”

But the birth of Jesus was not just good news for us; it was good news for the whole world. As Barack Obama said, “The birth of Jesus Christ two thousand years ago in Bethlehem is a story that touches the hearts of people of all faiths. It is a story of hope, and of a new beginning. It is a story of a young woman, Mary, who was told that she would bear the Son of God, and who responded with courage and faith.”

The birth of Jesus brings hope and a new beginning not just for individual believers, but for the entire world. It is a message of love, peace, and reconciliation that extends to all people.

As we celebrate the birth of Jesus this Christmas, let us remember the incredible love and grace of God that is revealed through the incarnation. Jesus came not just to save us as individuals, but to bring hope and healing to the entire world. His message of love, peace, and reconciliation extends to all people.

As we reflect on the birth of Jesus, let us also consider how we can follow in Mary’s footsteps and respond to God’s call with humility and obedience. Mary was a young woman who was told that she would bear the Son of God, and yet she responded with courage and faith. May we also have the courage and faith to follow God’s will for our lives, no matter how difficult it may seem.

Finally, let us remember that the birth of Jesus is not just a historical event, but a living reality that has the power to transform our lives today. As the light of Christ shines in our hearts, may it also shine through us to those around us. May the joy and peace of Christmas fill our hearts and homes, and may we go forth in the new year with the hope and love of Christ in our hearts.

Merry Christmas to you all! Amen.

There are any number of possible criticisms one could level at the above text. Bible scholars would (rightly) note that Luke here is playing second fiddle to John’s prologue. Theologians might recognize that the quotations provided may or may not be entirely correct.^[1]

And yet … the A.I. sermon is better than several Christmas sermons I’ve heard over the years. Devoid of any obvious heresy, the A.I. even seems to understand what makes the birth of Jesus genuinely good news. It’s far from a heavy-handed exhortation to “follow the star” in our hearts or a diatribe proving the historicity of the incarnation.

But as good as the A.I. sermon might be, the message would fly like a lead balloon on Sunday morning. Its content is mostly ok, though it lacks any human warmth (for obvious reasons). This is more than a technical glitch: the gospel needs a preacher in the same way that salvation is predicated upon the scandal of the incarnation. The vulnerable and defenseless baby in the manger, the human preacher fumbling over his or her words in the pulpit. The preaching of Artificial Intelligence can’t convincingly sympathize with the human plight. Nor can it replicate the audacious foolishness of one beggar telling another beggar where to find bread.

The best evangelists preach to themselves, but the robo-preacher stands aloof from its congregation, telling the people what it thinks they need to hear. It follows the precise formula handed down by the faithful for millennia without considering the meaning for themselves. Like an actor for hire, it delivers the lines on a stage. Pausing at all the right places, the A.I. preacher tells just enough jokes and intersperses just enough curated vulnerability to hide how little it really cares.