Did Jesus die for robots too?
Originally posted at Gathering Voices: Faith Conversations from TheThoughtfulChristian.com
In 1968, international chess champion David Levy bet that no computer could beat him in the next ten years. Levy won the bet in 1978 prevailing against the most powerful computer at the time. Afterwards, Levy said it’d only be a matter of time until the computers were winning.
Move over chess.
To much fanfare, a computer named Watson won a Jeopardy! tournament last week, beating the two winningest Jeopardy! players of all time. One of those players, Ken Jennings, underneath his response in the final Jeopardy round quoted from an episode of The Simpsons, “I, for one, welcome our new computer overlords.”
You might be thinking, “oh, hey, big deal. Watson took up an entire room and was programmed to play one meaningless game show.” And, sure, that’s a fair point. I wouldn’t have thought twice about it had I not read Lev Grossman’s stunning TIME article, “2045: The Year Man Becomes Immortal.” Among other things, Grossman describes the Singularity movement which addresses augmenting our bodies and minds with technology.
Raymond Kurzweil, a leading Singularitian, argues that genetics, nanotechnology, and robotics (artificial intelligence) are progressing at a rate so that a) in 2020 personal computers will have the same processing power as the human brian, b) in the 2030s human mind uploading will become possible, c) in 2045 The Singularity occurs and artificial intelligences will surpass human beings as the smartest and most capable life forms on the earth.
It’d be more comfortable to call this all poppycock and go on our merry way. But, even my beloved NPR last week reported that radiologists may soon be out of their jobs — turns out computer image reading technology is progressing pretty fast these days, and machines don’t need pension or health insurance benefits.
But before I jump back under the covers and wish these scientific breakthroughs away, I can consider our congregation and see members living many happy years due to portable oxygen tanks, or thanks to major surgery, or after surviving cancer that a generation ago likely would have killed them. One could actually argue that, since a transplant patient takes daily drugs to avoid rejection, this person is already dependent on modern technology to survive. This person is already “post-human.”
I don’t have any profound theological insight here, but I do wonder about this: I know God can handle these changes, but can we? Can the Church? Can I?
The providence of God and the Lordship of Jesus Christ will continue no matter what becomes of nanotechnology. Even if we finally develop a computer that looks, talks, and acts like humans, God will still be God. I trust that God will surely figure out the best way to deal with a person, say, whose brain has been transplanted into a robot (I’m guessing grace will have its part). But, partly due to the fact I seem to have few theological resources with which to approach artificial intelligence, I’m concerned as to whether the church is equipping its members to deal with such questions. What’s an appropriate Biblical hermeneutic when studying questions like, “If we have the scientific knowhow to transplant someone’s brain into a machine and keep that person’s memories and thoughts intact, should we?”
Did I miss a course in seminary? Did we cover whether they’ll be intelligent robots in the final Kingdom of God? Did Jesus die for them too?
image by Iva Villi
Additional Resources from www.TheThoughtfulChristian.com
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A New Church for a New World, By John M. Buchanan
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“Assisted Reproductive Technologies,” By Kate Ott (Adult Study)
Does the manger matter?
The Bible gets four shots to tell Jesus’ birth — well, four gospel writers plus Paul and the other epistle writers, so at least four. But the manger only appears in Luke. For many current-day Christians, the Christmas story would be incomplete without the manger scene: little baby Jesus wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger. But does this, the crowning scene of many a church Christmas Pageant, really matter?
Well, yes and no. Does the manger matter to Matthew, Mark, or John? No, not one bit. Does the manger matter to Paul? Nope. In fact, Paul doesn’t even seem to know about the whole virgin birth story, let alone the manger — at least he never mentions it. And even for Luke, is the manger an irreplaceable aspect of the birth story that, without the manger, Jesus’ birth would lose all its meaning? I think not. But it matters; the manger matters to Luke at least.
Luke is the gospel in which stories of the poor and the outcast and women get a special airing. Luke seems to be all about those on the margins, and Luke tells the story of Jesus with that hue. So yeah, the manger matters, for it puts the scandal of Jesus, the craziness of the gospel, in a tidy (or smelly?) message.
Was little baby Jesus actually laid in a manger — I don’t know, it seems like a very strange and dirty place to put a newborn if you ask me. I’m not a parent, but I’d say Mary and Joseph would have to be crazy-tired or plain silly to put a newborn in a feeding trough. But the story of Jesus being laid in a manger speaks to the truth of the gospel. Here’s how:
For one, the manger as metaphor reminds us of Jesus as the bread of life. Jesus is both food for our spiritual journey, and food that physically nourishes us in the bread and wine of communion. Little baby Jesus in the food trough can point to big guy Jesus feeding the 5,000 and dining after the resurrection with the disciples at Emmaus.
Second, the manger scene sets up the story of Jesus as one of scandal. The son of God lies helpless in a food trough for dirty animals — scandal! What sort of God would figure that as a good idea? Only a crazy-wild-scandalous one that upends all our expectations of justice, love, and grace. Scandalous manger.
Finally, the manger scene, for me at least, sets Jesus as his own person — a poor one, yes, but his own man aside from his parents’ influence. I’m not saying Jesus’ is uninfluenced by his parents or culture, no way. But I’m picturing the birth scene as a comic strip with a final panel of an up-close baby Jesus in the manger. Mary and Joseph holding Jesus aren’t the point; Jesus himself, set apart, poor, lowly, weak, vulnerable, even smelly — Jesus is the focal point of the story, so he hangs out by himself in the manger.
But that’s just me. What do you think? Could you do Christmas without little baby Jesus in a food trough? Sure, leaving it out would ruin the pageant, but does the manger really matter to you?
image by Scott Wilcoxson
Mary’s Song, Magnificat
I’m off this morning to my weekly text study group with local pastors. Since Sunday’s lectionary texts include Mary’s Magnificat, Luke 1:47-55, as the canticle I thought I’d repost this reflection on Mary’s powerful song. Are you preaching from Luke 1 this Sunday? How so?
The God Who
The God who looks with favor on the lowly, a homeless man leaving a warm night
shelter only to find a steady winter rain falling on the ambivalent city,
the God who has done great things, sending angels with pregnant messages
to a withered woman, and later a message of “great joy” to an unwed teenager fearing for her life,
the God who gives mercy from generation to generation, forgiving our sins too
numerous to count, blotting out our offenses no matter how heinous or small,
the God who shows strength with God’s arm, in the making of creation, in the
sweet smell of the bread baked for communion, in the powerlessness of the shameful cross,
the God who scatters the proud in the imagination of their hearts, throwing down
politicians working for personal gain, shattering our pretense of humility, calling us to boast in the Lord alone,
the God who lifted up the lowly, a tiny shepherd who slay the Philistine giant with
a strong faith and a love of neighbor, a young son wearing a torn fabled coat of many colors saves the nation from perishing,
the God who will feed the hungry at the heavenly banquet—filet mignon,
enormous baked potato, no damn broccoli, open bar, no hangovers—
the God who did not abandon Israel through the prophets and the patriarchs,
Miriam’s joyful song, Amos’s harsh words, and David’s illicit sex,
the God of whom Mary sang—Magnificat—of whom Hannah sang before, the
God of you and me is in this place. Look, listen, touch, taste, and smell, for God is here. Amen.
-Adam J. Copeland
Sermon: Justification, Gal 2
First Presbyterian Church
Hallock, Minn.
June 13, 2010
Justification
Gal. 2
Sometimes there really is too much of a good thing. This week, for instance, I was in Louisville for a few days, meeting with the committee that is developing the next Presbyterian hymnal. I’m not exaggerating when I say we must have sung at least 500 hymns, maybe more. I’m really enjoying my work with the committee, but just like playing more than 36 holes of golf, or running a marathon, sometimes even good things get to be a little much.
But now I can say, with complete certainty, that there are many types of hymns and congregational songs out there these days. Some hymns are a simple paraphrases from verses in the Bible, others are a paraphrase with a final verse that’s a lesson or call to action. Other hymns paint beautiful images or express our deepest thoughts and fears. And, some hymns, I have to say, are absolutely ridiculously bad.
Singing all these different types of hymns has put me in a reflective mood lately, and Paul’s letter to the Galatians continued the theme. If Paul had written a hymn when he wrote this chapter of Galatians, it might have gone something like this:
We’re not like you holy Gentiles,
We are Jewish by our birth.
Yet we too are saved by Jesus,
we do not make our own worth.
We are saved, like you — all servants –
not through deeds, or through the law.
Justified by Christ, our savior,
we are saved by grace. What awe!
(Ok, Paul’s hymn would have been much better, but after reading so many rhyming couplets this week, I couldn’t help myself.) … Continue Reading
Review: Brian McLaren’s “A New Kind of Christianity”
I’m a Brian McLaren fan. Not quite a fan boy, but an eager reader and admirer. So I when I got his newest book A New Kind of Christianity: Ten Questions that are Transforming the Faith (site here) I read it hoping to lead a book group discussion in my congregation. Though I enjoyed the book and recommend it overall, it didn’t fit the small church book group niche. And the more I think about it, I’m not actually sure it really breaks much new ground for me. McLaren is eloquent as usual (though a bit verbose at times), and I appreciate his perspective. Perhaps this is a case of unfair expectations — Minnesotans might call it “Joe Mauer syndrome” — but while I enjoyed the work, I finished wanting more.
The book is in ten parts, or ten questions. A few examples: What is the overarching story line of the Bible? Is God violent? What do we do about the church? Can we find a way to address human sexuality? How can we translate our quest into action?
McLaren believes the Christian faith is in the midst of a major overhaul. Perhaps every generation believes this, but I agree with McLaren that we are in a particularly transformative time. McLaren approaches his ten questions with a mix of his own intense and impressive Biblical exegesis and a grounding in what I would call the mainline progressive Biblical scholars. McLaren is one of these great authors that defies easy description. He’s a scholar for sure, but also an anti-establishment guy, an Evangelical who is excoriated by the right, a teacher and a pastor. Mostly, though, I think of McLaren as a communicator. He’s skilled at cutting through the rhetoric and getting his point across.
For instance, his chapter on the questions of the overarching storyline of the Bible does a splendid job of describing the problems of reading the Bible through the eyes of the Roman Empire and overly-simplified protestant theology. McLaren discusses the “six-line narrative” of Eden, Fall, Condemnation, Heaven, Salvation or Hell/Damnation and blows it out of the water as a faithful way to read the Bible. Quite right. But, to be honest, McLaren’s next chapter basically on what’s next, could basically be described as what I took from a center left Presbyterian seminary — the challenge to read the Bible on its own terms, the challenge to appreciate the non-literal intent of many of the writers and take them even more seriously “because they distill time-tested, multilayered wisdom — though deep mythic language — about how our world came to be what it has become (48). McLaren does a great job of expanding the Biblical approach he took as a young man, but to be honest, I don’t read his current approach as anything hugely new. Perhaps that’s because I’m only 27, so what McLaren is writing about is just sort of the water I’ve always drank.
Here’s a good snippet of what McLaren’s about:
Although few of us today are tempted to freeze our understanding of God in graven images, we may too quickly freeze our understanding in printed images, rigid conceptual ideals not chiseled in wood or stone but printed on paper in books, housed not in temples but in seminaries and denominational headquarters, worshiped not through ancient ceremonies and rituals but through contemporary sermons and songs (111).
McLaren’s big metaphors for the Bible that he uses in the work are the Bible as not a constitution, set and rigid with one meaning, but the Bible as community library where the community gathers its wisdom, discusses its future, centers its soul. Though I think some lawyers would quibble with his understanding of the constitution, the point is taken. The Bible is not and never has been about rigidity and simple “yes” and “no” directives, but it’s a book of books around which we gather, in which we rest and play, from which we live and serve.
McLaren concludes the book with a call to a final quest, the “quest to heal what we have so disastrously broken, the quest to unify and liberate what we’ve tragically divided and conquered, the quest to rediscover a larger more beautiful whole rather than pit part against part in deadly conflict” (232). This is not a small ball work, but a big honking call for a new kind of Christianity, heck a new kind of living and being with one another in creation. I’m all for it. I hope McLaren keeps the conversation going, for its the conversation on-going for practically all of my young adult life.
Censoring the Bible
(Apologies for more of a church nerd post, but it does speak to broader issues.)
The second reading from the Revised Common Lectionary (the Bible readings for worship used by churches around the world) for this Sunday comes from the book of Revelation. For a few weeks now, we’ve been working our way through Revelation and have now arrived at chapter 22. The assigned reading, though, is Rev. 22:12-14, 16-17, 20-21. On first glance, it sure looks to me like we’re censoring the Bible.
The assigned reading picks the lovely-dovey smooth feeling sections of chapter 22, and skips of the darker passages.
Included in this Sunday’s passage:
See, I am coming soon; my reward is with me, to repay according to everyone’s work. 13 I am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end.” 14 Blessed are those who wash their robes, so that they will have the right to the tree of life and may enter the city by the gates….And let everyone who is thirsty come. Let anyone who wishes take the water of life as a gift….
Excluded from this Sunday’s passage:
Outside are the dogs and sorcerers and fornicators and murderers and idolaters, and everyone who loves and practices falsehood….I warn everyone who hears the words of the prophecy of this book: if anyone adds to them, God will add to that person the plagues described in this book; if anyone takes away from the words of the book of this prophecy, God will take away that person’s share in the tree of life and in the holy city, which are described in this book.
Yes, Revelation is a really difficult book and comes with a lot of cultural baggage. Yes, most people in mainline churches these days don’t know the Bible like they used to. Yes, it’s difficult to read passages like that in worship.
But, really, isn’t this censorship plain and simple? And isn’t it ironic we censor the exact verse that says, “ if anyone takes away from the words of the book of this prophecy, God will take away that person’s share in the tree of life”? What are the implications here? Seems to me like we’re dumbing down worship, the faith, and the Bible for reasons of comfort and convenience.
Chronos Management
I know I excel at some things, like sleeping. At others this, I know I struggle….like remembering names. Managing time, though, is beyond me. It’s not beyond me in that I know I can’t do it. In fact, I very well might be quite good at time management. It’s just hard to tell.
I had an interesting conversation with a pastor friend last week in which he said something like, “Everyone assumes I’m so busy, but I’m not. I have a lot of time to do anything I want. My congregation just runs itself.” I do know, for certain, I am not like this pastor. Yes, our congregation could function perfectly well without me, but I do feel really busy. And I’m pretty certain it’s more than just a feeling. I am busy.
So the question: how, if possible, might I improve my time management? What tips do you have for pastors so that they might use their time to God’s glory?
OK, so here’s the main tension I feel. The culture is all about time as a commodity, time as something to be managed, something to fight, something to beat. But the Christian take on time is different. First of all, time is a gift from God. It shouldn’t be something to wrestle, but something to embrace.
So in the New Testament, there are two words for time. “Chronos” is chronological time, sequential time as we usually think of it. “Kairos” is a more complicated term, a time more qualitative than quantitative. Kairos time is the moment when God deems something appropriate, the right moment almost regardless of the time on the clock.
The go to verse to show kairos is Mark 1:14-15 “Now after John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God, and saying, ‘The TIME is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.’” That’s kairos time — a God moment.
So as a pastor, as a Christian, I am aware of the danger of being sucked into thinking time is something to fight against, something to be freed from. In fact, God might be using time to do God’s business. But, all that being true still doesn’t necessarily mean I feel as if I use my time wisely, or that my time is best spent to serve, or even that the way I spend time is faithful at all.
Here’s a few things I’ve figured out re time and ministry, but I’d love to hear more from you all:
- Emails can wait. When getting to the office, reading for 20-30 minutes is a real handy way of scheduling study time.
- Saying “no” is a gift. Saying “no” is often a good idea.
- No matter how many hours I work in a week, it’ll always feel like there’s something more to do.
- Twitter and Facebook are really valuable ministry tools, but I needn’t use them constantly.
- Thinking of my day in blocks is helpful. If I have meetings at night, cutting afternoon work short is a good idea.
- Schedule time to study, don’t just say “I should read this week.” (Ok, I’m no good at this, but I’m aware at least.)
- Sometimes, often in fact, opportunities for real ministry are unscheduled — the conversation at the post office, the person who pops into the office unscheduled.
- Writing a sermon while at the office just doesn’t work. I need to start scheduling more time away from the office and not feel guilty about it.
- Visits — along with study — tend to be the first thing that get cut from a busy week. Some visits to those ill have to be done, the other visits get pushed off easily.
Ok, I’ll stop there. Often, when thinking about this stuff, I recall Eugene Peterson’s book “Under the Unpredictable Plant: An Exploration in Vocational Holiness.” He gets this stuff, but I also don’t quite think his experience is easily translatable to other contexts.
So this friend of mine who says he’s not busy, says what he primarily does is “Spend my days listening for God, and enabling my congregation to do the same.” Maybe that’s something else to keep in mind. May God’s time allow it.
image by Rich DuBose
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