During my second semester of seminary, I took a Theology class from an outstanding professor, Dr. Paul Capetz. His course was a deep dive into six prominent theologians. We studied their writings for two weeks and then wrote a three-page paper on their key theological concepts. Theologians are not known for writing succinctly, so condensing their theological concepts into a short paper was not an easy feat. One had to fully grasp the subject matter to succeed in this course.
My expertise is engineering and business. To master these fields, students expend great energy working problem sets until a correct solution is achieved. I applied this same approach to theology. I read the assigned readings, then reviewed the readings again to highlight the theologian’s major concepts. I went back to the professor’s lectures and matched the lecture materials with my reading notes. This process was like putting a puzzle together. At first, the project seems daunting, but after examining the pieces and developing a process, the puzzle pieces fall into place.
One afternoon, I was in the seminary student center. Dr. Capetz walked in and started chatting with me. He noted that I intensely followed his lectures. I told him that I was fascinated by theology, but his chosen theological writings were difficult to comprehend. Dr. Capetz told me that several students had asked the Dean of Faculty to lighten up the course work. He asked my opinion: was he being fair? Although it would have been easy to advocate for leniency, I told him that “becoming proficient in a subject requires one to wrestle, dig deep, and overcome adversity. This process embeds the subject matter within a student. In short, don’t spoon feed the students.” Dr. Capetz did not let up. I am a better person because he demanded high standards.
Much ink has recently been spilled about artificial intelligence (AI). I watched a 60 Minutes episode about Nvidea, the technology corporation that specializes in AI high-performance chips and software. One of the founders, Jensen Huang, spoke about the wonders of AI, from breakthrough medical research to robotics. I later attended a higher education Board of Trustees’ dinner where the Chair recited a beautiful tribute poem to the university’s President. Afterwards, the Chair told the Board that the poem was created by AI.
Congress and political leaders are discussing how to regulate AI. While AI corporations express optimism about their product, there are downsides. Employees with AI skills will perform work faster than employees without this skill. Jobs will be lost in the workforce. Foreign government will use this technology to breach governmental security and create havoc; destruction of hardware and software systems may one day be more effective warfare than bombs. Privacy will be breached. AI consumes large amounts of energy, thus contributing to climate change.
As I reflect on technological breakthroughs, there are usually both positive and negative factors to balance. Photography captured images that allowed humans to remember people and beautiful events. It also enabled the multi-billion-dollar pornography business that degrades human sexuality. Atomic energy supplies clean energy. People used this technology to create atomic bombs that can destroy God’s creation. Airplanes were invented to quickly transport people and equipment. Airplanes were also hijacked by terrorists and rammed into buildings that killed thousands.
I readily admit that AI has many positive benefits. What worries me most about this technology is that it can deaden the mind. Dr. Capetz’s writing assignments were designed to make students struggle with the subject matter and produce a concise paper encompassing breakthrough theological concepts. It was the journey of discovery that was important, not the product. He could have given his students the answer during his lectures. The students would then just write a paper from Dr Capetz’s lecture notes and never read the theologian’s publications. AI accomplishes the same product; the student inputs the theologian’s name and key words, then AI writes the paper. The student gets an A and retains little. Sadly, once the student exits higher education, he or she is unprepared for life’s struggles where answers are not known.
I fear that a Christian’s journey of faith will become an AI exercise. Input key words and AI tells your whether God exists or summarizes Scripture in a paragraph. However efficiently AI creates a product, it is within the daily life struggles along with studying Scripture, that faith grows and matures. AI that replaces this struggle deflates critical thinking skills and dampens a person’s effectiveness.
Karl Barth, the greatest theologian of the twentieth century, is a difficult read, especially for engineers who like precision. His verbose writing style frustrates so many readers. Yet the struggle is worth the journey. It took me the entire two weeks to comprehend his central theology: we know God only by what God reveals to humans and we know God best through Jesus Christ who lived amongst us. All of Barth’s voluminous writings encompass this theological premise. I wouldn’t have fully understood this simple concept without struggling through his writings. AI would have denied me this journey of faith.
