OPINION

Intro: ChatGPT may relieve its users of discomfort, but in doing so robs us of contemplation, of the holy ground between question and answer

Any Individual person of faith raised in a religious setting such as the home will have a fairly clear picture of what prayer means. Prayer is the practice by which we draw closer to God, petition for our needs and desires, request guidance, and seek forgiveness.

For many, the deal has always been that in times of trouble we cast our anxieties and questions and emerge with either some answers or some sustaining sense of peace. Take it to the Lord in prayer, the well-known Christian hymn goes.

It may be unclear when a question becomes a prayer, although that may have less to do with the content of the question and more to do with our expectations in asking it.

I would hope that no one has ever thought of ChatGPT as a god – and clearly, some users don’t even think it’s good according to critical reviews – nor would I hope that anyone has ever asked its forgiveness. Nonetheless, in moments of confusion, I would suspect people have called upon its name for answers almost compulsively.

In a typical example, this might have been limited to things like searching for recipes and experimenting with its abilities in areas such as poetry. Then – with playful irony – we might began asking for its read on our relational dynamics, our habits, or even what the future might hold for us.

While we should remain rationally aware of its hallucinations (because that’s what they are in AI parlance) and lack of moral obligation, there is a powerful belief that it will have something real to offer in these moments. Whatever our claim to believe about it, we will no doubt find ourselves soothed by the tidiness of a five-bullet-point plan and the imitation of a reassuring voice. It offers guidance that at least sounds certain, even if this certainty is synthetic.

Why would a Christian – in theory, on speaking terms with God – turn to a robot with her questions? Because at least this god answers, you might think. But saints and mystics would smile at that response.

The Christians of history most celebrated for their wisdom and understanding have often been those most familiar with God’s silence, not His chatter. His silence became another form of communion, His perceived absence another kind of presence.

Simone Weil, a 20th-century mystic and philosopher, famously defined prayer as attention. In a letter to her priest and mentor, included in a collection titled Waiting for God, Weil speaks of prayer as the “orientation of all the attention of which the soul is capable towards God”.

Her original French language makes plain a secret. The French word for attention, spelt the same way as the English, is closely linked to the word for waiting, attendre. The collection’s title, Attente de Dieu, or Waiting for God, bears the same secret: decent prayer is mostly just waiting.

No wonder, then, there is a temptation to turn to ChatGPT. The unbearable wait is exactly the burden that its instantaneous answers promise to lift. So anxious have people become of this burden that even a false certainty becomes preferable to the discomfort of not understanding.

Another piece of etymology is illuminating here. The lives of mystics like Weil were marked by a practice of contemplation, as is the prayer life of many Christians.

To contemplate is, of course, not to conclude, but rather to deeply consider, reflect, observe. But at the Latin root of the word “contemplation” is literally the word “temple”. It is as if the gap between our question and its answer is a place made sacred by exactly the unknowing that produces our discomfort.

When ChatGPT unhesitatingly grants answers to questions of faith, this is the space it is invading. Not only does it satisfy us with a false sense of security, but the satisfaction it offers is its own kind of deprivation. The machine relieves us of our discomfort, but in doing so, deprives us of our waiting. Its bullet points assault our silence. It robs us of contemplation, of the holy ground between question and answer.

For the mystic, this space of contemplation had much more to do with seeking than finding. Lingering in this gap yielded its own treasures: a character marked by patience and wisdom; a deeper capacity for compassion; a familiarity with the mysteries that, for all our searching, resist simple answers; a contentment insulated from the storms of circumstance.

Whether or not we call it holy or sacred, the gap between our questions and answers is charged with this potential. To allow – even, to plead with – a bot to hustle us from it prematurely is to forego its treasures.

Coded for certainty rather than mystery, ChatGPT is ill-equipped to aid our search for truth. Perhaps instead we should do as the hymn says, and take it to the Lord in prayer.