Computer-generated prayer? How AI is changing faith.
Activists recently protested the proposed demolition of West-Park Presbyterian, a historic church on Manhattan’s Upper West Side. One reason the church was struggling to stay open: It had a congregation of just 12 people.
“Many of these very small congregations are, if not on the verge of collapse, in a very close state to it,” says Scott Thumma, research director for the Hartford Institute for Religion Research.
Why We Wrote This
A story focused onIf a chatbot prays, does God listen? With religious attendance at record lows, faith communities are turning to new technologies to attract members. That’s raising questions about where to draw the line between artificial intelligence and the divine.
As religious attendance declines, spiritual leaders have embraced technology to attract new members. The #MediaNuns, a group of Catholic sisters, have millions of views on TikTok, and the “Young Imam” uses Instagram and Twitter to combat stereotypes about Islam.
In Germany, a Lutheran church recently offered a service created by an artificial intelligence chatbot. People packed the pews to listen to the experimental service, which was led by an avatar on a screen above the altar.
Some religious leaders have reservations. The culture of social media often conflicts with religious ideologies, and neither social media nor AI can replace the sense of community that in-person worship offers.
“Where are we, as humans, irreplaceable and absolutely essential?” asks the Rev. A. Trevor Sutton. “To envision a world where it’s me and a computer, and that’s my religion? I see that as untenable. However, if it is a tool where we retain our community and each other and our humanity? That could work.”
Earlier this summer, activists protested the proposed demolition of West-Park Presbyterian, a historic church on Manhattan’s Upper West Side. One reason the church was struggling to keep its doors open: It had a congregation of just 12 people.
West-Park Presbyterian’s challenges are somewhat common. In-person engagement in religious services has declined since 2019, according to a November 2022 Pew Research Center survey that also found that the “share of all U.S. adults who say they typically attend religious services at least once a month is down modestly but measurably,” from 33% in 2019 to 30% in 2022.
Most congregations in the United States are small, and getting smaller. Median attendance size in weekly worship services fell from 137 to 65 attendees between 2000 and 2020, according to a recent report by the Hartford Institute for Religion Research.
Why We Wrote This
A story focused onIf a chatbot prays, does God listen? With religious attendance at record lows, faith communities are turning to new technologies to attract members. That’s raising questions about where to draw the line between artificial intelligence and the divine.
“Many of these very small congregations are, if not on the verge of collapse, in a very close state to it,” says Scott Thumma, research director for the institute, which conducts a large national survey of 15,000 religious communities. “In certain parts of the country, I would easily guess that over the next 10 years or so, 15% to 20% will have to close.”
At a time when traditional religious attendance has declined, spiritual leaders have embraced innovation to engage members and attract new ones. That can range from services on Zoom, to TikTok videos about how to perform a religious ritual, to the latest technology: artificial intelligence.
Deus ex machina?
Some religious leaders have embraced ChatGPT as part of their efforts to engage with communities in innovative ways. In Germany, a Lutheran church recently offered a service created mostly by an AI chatbot. People packed the pews to listen to the experimental service, which was led by an avatar on a screen above the altar.
Religious organizations and leaders in the United States have utilized the emerging technology to a lesser degree. Rabbi Yonatan Dahlen, at Congregation Shaarey Zedek in Michigan, says some of his Christian counterparts have used it for correspondence, marketing, and social media content.
At the same time, many spiritual leaders are wary of AI and believe it has limitations. Mr. Dahlen says he once tried using ChatGPT to write a D’var Torah, a short teaching about a passage of the Torah. He feels that a good D’var Torah comes from vulnerability and human experience. “AI can’t do that,” Mr. Dahlen says.
Dayal Gauranga is the executive director of Manhattan’s Bhakti Center, which represents Hinduism’s tradition of Bhakti Yoga. “What makes something powerful is when there’s a lived experience of something,” he says. “You’re not going to get that just by generating a message about it.”
The Rev. Jabulani McCalister, senior pastor at Covenant Baptist Church in West Bloomfield, Michigan, says he wouldn’t use AI to write a sermon. “For me, the Holy Spirit gives me what to say, not AI. When it comes to the sermon, you are proclaiming the word of God that He’s given you to share.”
Some religious leaders feel it is possible to engage with the divine through AI. “Everything in religion, whether it be scripture, liturgy, study, etc., is essentially a tool for transcending the normal existence of time and space and diving into a deeper or more mystical truth,” says Mr. Dahlen. “I see no reason why AI couldn’t also be used as a tool for this endeavor.”
The Rev. A. Trevor Sutton, a Lutheran pastor and scholar, has concerns about computer-generated spirituality. “Where are we, as humans, irreplaceable and absolutely essential?” asks the author of “Redeeming Technology. “To envision a world where it’s me and a computer, and that’s my religion? I see that as untenable. However, if it is a tool where we retain our community and each other and our humanity? That could work.”
Faith and technology
Even before the pandemic, Dr. Thumma’s research team found a dramatic increase in the use of technology. The pandemic has accelerated these trends, and 73% of churches now offer hybrid services, with remote as well as in-person offerings. Of these congregations, 81% plan to continue offering a mix of in-person and online services for the foreseeable future, using social media like Facebook Live and YouTube.
For example, at St. Helen, a Catholic church in Westfield, New Jersey, visitors are encouraged to connect with the parish and get updates through text messages. Near the entrance, a display invites people to save a tree and download a bulletin using a QR code. The church also offers a live-streamed mass and is active on various social media platforms.
Mr. Sutton, the scholar and author, says that religious practices today look different, but that people still desire something bigger than themselves. “Church attendance may be down,” he says. “But I think people are still trying to find transcendent meaning.”
While there are benefits to engaging in digital media, these opportunities come with certain challenges, adds Mr. Sutton. “Online worship makes it significantly easier for a church to get its message out there, but with that opportunity comes the challenge of eroded in-person community and a shift in habits.”
TikTok priests, #MediaNuns & Instagram imams
David W. Peters has more than 83,000 followers and 2.9 million likes on TikTok. What makes him different from other influencers is that he also happens to be the Vicar at St. Joan of Arc, an Episcopal Church in Texas. Reverend Peters views social media as a “virtual town square” where he can spread the church’s message.
“We try to meet people where they are,” Mr. Peters explains. “The church has always done that.”
Religious organizations and faith leaders also share information with the wider public through social media. A group of Catholic sisters in the Daughters of St. Paul, also known as the #MediaNuns, have millions of views on TikTok, and monks in Cambodia have gone viral on the platform. In the United Kingdom, Sabah Ahmedi, dubbed the “Young Imam,” uses Instagram and Twitter to combat stereotypes about Islam.
Mr. Dahlen started using Instagram as a rabbinical intern. During the pandemic, his posts as “Motor City Rabbi” on TikTok started to take off.
“I think its best use is educational,” Mr. Dahlen says. “Judaism is not unique, but it comes with a steep learning curve. There are thousands of years of tradition.” His most popular TikTok videos are on subjects such as how to put on a prayer shawl or hang up a mezuzah.
The Rev. Lizzie McManus-Dail, a millennial, has used social media since middle school. She started using social media professionally after being ordained in 2020.
“I wanted to be a positive voice,” says Reverend McManus-Dail, who leads Jubilee Episcopal Church, a new congregation in North Austin, Texas. She says the most impactful messages have been that “you do not have to give up your religion, spirituality, or relationship with God just because someone else said you don’t belong anymore based on sexuality, gender, politics, etc.”
Social media has played a huge part in Jubilee’s growth, with about 75% of the church’s members coming to the organization through social media. “A year ago, our church was just beginning to form; we now have over 100 people who call Jubilee home,” Ms. McManus-Dail says. “I’d say that is a successful use of social media for broadening and deepening religious experience!”
Pitfalls and limits of technology
Faith leaders acknowledge that technology has challenges and limitations. For starters, the culture of social media often conflicts with religious ideologies. With Cambodian monks on TikTok, for instance, local Buddhist authorities question if content that typically trends on the platform violates the monastic code, which forbids seeking fame, singing, and dancing.
Mr. Gauranga, the Hindu leader, says there can be a temptation to make social media all about yourself. “It’s important to keep your egos in check and make sure you don’t get too carried away,” he adds.
Sometimes the virulent rhetoric on social media platforms contradicts the core tenets of religions. “As entertaining and popular as it is, there’s no doubt the social media environment can be toxic,” says Mr. Dahlen.
Being together as a community is still vital to Judaism and social media doesn’t provide that, adds Mr. Dahlen. “We don’t want it to be so good that it actually replaces community,” he says. “We want people to be there [in person].”
Virtual worship has been incredibly beneficial for certain congregations, but there is a caveat, says Dr. Thumma. “For those churches it has been beneficial for growing their attendance, but that comes with a cost because they’re not always engaged participants.”
Dr. Thumma notes that individuals who attend virtually are less likely to volunteer and tend to donate less money. “If you choose more virtual, you will have more people, but they will be less committed, less engaged,” he says. According to his research, annual per capita giving is $2,479 for those who attend mostly in person, but $1,083 for participants who are more virtual than in person.
For his part, Mr. Sutton says churches have gone through many technological revolutions and paradigm shifts over the years. For instance, the Gutenberg printing press was a disruptive technology in the 15th and 16th centuries. Although many individuals within the church initially feared and rejected this innovation, ultimately the advent of printing had a positive impact on Christianity. After the dust settles, religious communities find a way to carry on and accommodate new technologies.
He adds that with greater use of technology, counterbalances are essential for religious organizations to thrive. “Potlucks or small group gatherings or visiting people in the hospital become significantly more important.”
“The world is having an identity crisis at the moment,” Mr. Dahlen says. “Asking big questions is important now. We are here to explore our identity together.”
