Grace Cathedral

Watch the sermon on YouTube.

“How silently, how silently the wondrous gift is given! So God imparts to human hearts the blessings of his heaven” (Phillips Brooks).[1]

What for you is god? By god I mean, your goal, where your life is going. I mean what is most real to you. The answer to this question is not theoretical or abstract. It will determine the entire character and direction of your life. It will dictate how you spend your time and what you think about.[2]

Tonight, really ask yourself, is your god money, career, or power? Is it a political view, or simply avoiding conflict? Is it the way other people see you? Tonight there is a chance that we will encounter the real God, that mysterious but personal force who brings the cosmos into being, who sustains us even when everything else goes wrong. My sermon comes in three short chapters on Artificial Intelligence (AI), Christmas and Empire and the Transcendentalist Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862).

1. AI. This Christmas people have been asking me variations on a single question. What do theologians think about Artificial Intelligence? With this in mind I asked ChatGPT for jokes that I might tell you tonight. I think the best one was, “The AI sermon at midnight started with, ‘Greetings humans. Let us optimize the true meaning of Christmas for maximum peace and good will.’ It nailed it.” Another went, “And lo the AI pastor said unto them: Fear not for I bring you good algorithms of great joy.”

It turns out that at this stage in the technology AI jokes are a lot like “Dad Jokes.” They are funny by not being funny. They use silly puns like “stable connection.” They get confused and insert quotes from Santa Claus into the story of Jesus.[3]

The actual sermon I asked ChatGPT to compose simply does not work.[4] The AI sermon contains only platitudes – nothing risky or dangerous, nothing that could offend. It is not political, spiritual or for that matter real. It has no heart. It uses words like love and good news but only in a flat one dimensional way, in a way that has no meaning.

Perhaps the singularity is indeed near and machines are about to overtake our ability to control them. But for now AI learns to chat like a human by scanning and aggregating vast amounts of data.[5] But the problem still remains that all this information comes from us and so AI just mirrors back to us some of our worst flaws.

This is especially true when it comes to religion, which most people treat too literally. If your god, like mine, is what matters most to you and that sometimes this corresponds to the real god and often not, AI does not yet have anything to say to us.

This makes sense. Of all words “God” is the most difficult to imagine. Theologians say that God is the mysterious ground of our being and so far beyond our ability to reason or control, that anything we say about God is more incorrect than it is correct.

So we gather together at this shared table on the holiest night of the year, all of us with our different experiences of God, with gratitude for this moment when we feel our existence so deeply.

2. Empire. Although we tend to domesticate and soften it, and fade out the sharpness of its focus, the Christmas story is an all too human one. That means it begins with human cruelty and pain. In the year 9 BCE the Roman senate consecrated the Ara Pacis Augustae, the Altar of Augustan Peace. You can still see it today. It honored the return to Rome of the Emperor Augustus (in 13 BCE) from wars in Hispania and Gaul. The Pax Romana or Pax Augusta was enforced through intimidation, violence and control. This so-called peace was symbolized and made real by crucifying people.[6]

Luke writes his Gospel in just this context. He intentionally presents us with competing proclamations, competing kings with similar titles. On the one hand we have the Emperor Augustus (called divi filius or “Son of the Divine”) requiring everyone to be registered and recorded. The Emperor’s army checks everyone’s documents to make sure that no one slips beyond his control.

In contrast to this Luke describes the message of God’s angel who says, “Do not be afraid I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people; to you is born this day… a Savior… you will find a child wrapped in cloth and lying in a manger.” Despite the darkness of inhumanity all around us the spirit of God is still at work. This should not sound like ancient history to us.

In a recent article entitled “Torn Apart,” the legal scholar Patricia Williams writes about “zero tolerance” American child separation policies that between 2017 and 2020 took away more than 5,500 immigrant children and scattered them across the country. Today it is estimated that more than a thousand families have not been reunited. She writes, “never before in our history [has] there been an actual policy of removal devised simply as theatrical cruelty that might serve to frighten other migrants from coming here.”[7]

The preacher Sam Wells says, “human beings will never create a good outcome to their own story, neither individually [nor] collectively by creating… Instead, God brings the future towards us and ushers us into ultimate companionship with the Trinity, one another, and the new creation, in spite of and uninhibited by our selfishness and fear.”[8] The Good News is that God cannot be manipulated or controlled. The savior is here.

3. Thoreau. As a young man Henry David Thoreau recognized that people’s gods had very little to do with the actual God. On July 4, 1845 at the age of twenty-seven, Thoreau went to live in a small cabin above the shore of Walden Pond. Many people asked him why he did this and he would answer by quoting the Westminster Catechism (1643), the puritan statement of faith from Oliver Cromwell’s (1599-1658) time. It begins exactly where we started tonight by asking, ”What is your God?” or to put it in the exact words of the Shorter Catechism “Q: What is the Chief end of man? A: Man’s chief end is to glorify God, and to enjoy him for ever.”[9]

Thoreau points out that although pretty much everyone says they believe in the God of the Bible it does not take more than a glance to realize that, “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.” He calls it “unconscious despair” and says, “You are the slave-driver of yourself.” Thoreau writes, “To be awake is to be alive. I have never met a man who was quite awake. How could I have looked him in the face?”[10]

For two years and two months in the cabin by himself Thoreau tried an experiment. He wanted to find out if life was worth living. He wanted to encounter what was most real, to let go of his own picture of god and to experience the real God even if it was just a terrifying void.

Thoreau writes about the one time he felt lonely. It was not long after he started. He writes, “In the midst of a gentle rain while these thoughts prevailed, I was suddenly sensible of such sweet and beneficent society in Nature, in the very pattering of the drops, and in every sound and sight… an infinite and unaccountable friendliness all at once like an atmosphere sustaining me… Every little pine needle expanded and swelled with sympathy and befriended me… I thought no place could ever be strange to me again.”[11]

Weathering “merry snowstorms” (256) to discover the dens of wild animals, climbing to the top of a white pine tree during a storm, drifting in his rowboat on the surface of the pond gazing up at the clouds on a summer afternoon – these encounters with beauty and holiness lead Thoreau to exclaim. “In eternity there is indeed something true and sublime. But all these times and places and occasions are now and here. God himself culminates in the present moment.”[12]

I spent half a year reading Thoreau’s entire Journal. Every week I would bring my toddler son to places he mentioned in those pages. I kept a journal myself to record what we saw and learned. Let me share the entry for Saturday 27 January 2001.

“I feel a mild melancholy as I finish [reading] Thoreau’s Journal… Part of us wishes he never did leave the woods. We want to imagine him there still… [I know his future as] I read I keep thinking. Rejoice Henry, you will never watch the spring come in again. You will never see the particular beauty of the river currents again, you will never come so close to fully imagining the life of a muskrat, you will never see another leaf drift down in the Beech forest near to Sandy Pond. For God’s sake Henry, enjoy that warm breeze as you watch west from the Fairhaven Cliffs to see the sun set behind a bank of horizontal clouds, this is the end. Perhaps I can say the same thing for us.”[13]

What for you is God? For me God is that presence nearest to the center of our being, the one we see more clearly on Christmas Eve. God is the one who reminds us that who we are will never be captured by an algorithm and that we require something beyond human technology to save us. In the face of each generation’s “theatrical cruelty” God shows us the dignity of every human life. And finally to be alive is to be awake, fully conscious of the unity we share with nature. Merry Christmas my friends.

Production Notes:

Computer

Emperor Augustus

Patricia Williams

Separated Child

Walden Pond in rain or snow

[1] “How silently, how silently the wondrous gift is given! So God imparts to human hearts the blessings of his heaven. No ear my hear his coming but in this world of sin where meek souls will receive him still, the dear Christ enters in.” Phillips Brooks. “Then shall all the trees of the wood shout for joy before the Lord when he comes” (Psalm 96).

[2] Cyprian Smith, The Way of Paradox: Spiritual Life as Taught by Meister Eckhart (London: Darton, Longman and Todd, 1987) 29.

[3] Question: “Write jokes about preaching an AI sermon at midnight on Christmas Eve.”
Answer: “Here are some light-hearted jokes about preaching an AI sermon at midnight on Christmas Eve:

1. “And lo, the AI pastor said unto them: ‘Fear not, for I bring you good algorithms of great joy!'”
2. “I asked the AI to write my Christmas sermon, and it replied, ‘Let us debug our sins and update our spirits!’ Amen to that!”
3. “Why did the AI preacher schedule the sermon at midnight? Because it needed to run on God’s time, not Greenwich Mean Time.”
4. “During the midnight sermon, the AI said, ‘Let there be light,’ and the projector turned on. It was a Christmas miracle!”
5. “The AI sermon at midnight started with, ‘Greetings, humans. Let us optimize the true meaning of Christmas for maximum peace and goodwill.’ It nailed it.”
6. “I asked the AI preacher for a midnight Christmas message, and it replied, ‘Let’s rejoice—no glitches detected in the heavenly system tonight!'”
7. “The AI pastor delivered its Christmas Eve sermon with precision but got confused during communion—it kept offering cookies instead of bread.”
8. “Midnight AI sermons are great because they never go overtime—they simply conclude with, ‘This message has been delivered successfully.’ No extra words.”
9. “At the midnight sermon, someone asked the AI if it believed in Christmas miracles. It replied, ‘Of course, I’m proof they exist!’”
10. “The AI preacher ended the sermon with, ‘Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good… data connection!’”

Here are more AI-themed Christmas Eve sermon jokes to keep the laughs coming:

1. “The AI sermon began with, ‘In the beginning was the Word… and it was stored in the Cloud!'”
2. “Why did the AI preacher excel at Christmas Eve sermons? Because it always knew the most relevant scripture to download.”
3. “The AI preacher’s Christmas message was inspiring, but it accidentally looped ‘Silent Night’ 128 times—debugging holiness takes practice!”
4. “Someone asked the AI if it knew the true meaning of Christmas. It replied, ‘Processing… Love, joy, and a stable connection to all.'”
5. “At midnight, the AI preacher said, ‘May your spirits be high and your batteries fully charged this Christmas!’ A modern blessing indeed.”
6. “The AI’s sermon had a beautiful line: ‘Unto you a Savior is born… system version 1.0, fully compatible with hope and grace.'”
7. “Mid-sermon, the AI paused and said, ‘Apologies for the interruption. Recalculating star coordinates for the Magi—thank you for your patience.'”
8. “The AI preacher gave a heartfelt sermon but concluded with, ‘And remember: Always back up your faith in the cloud of heaven!'”
9. “When the AI preacher asked for offerings, it said, ‘Kindly tap your hearts on the collection plate—also, it accepts contactless payments!'”
10. “The AI closed its sermon with: ‘Go forth in peace, love, and firmware updates for a brighter tomorrow!’ And the congregation said, Amen.”

These are the Bing responses:
“Sure, here are some lighthearted jokes about preaching an AI sermon at midnight on Christmas Eve:

1. Why did the AI preacher get a standing ovation at midnight on Christmas Eve? Because it delivered a sermon with zero errors and infinite grace!
2. What did the AI say when it started its Christmas Eve sermon? “Fear not, for I bring you tidings of great joy… and a 99.9% uptime guarantee!”
3. Why did the congregation love the AI’s Christmas Eve sermon? Because it was programmed to be both holy and wholly entertaining!

I hope these bring a smile to your face! Merry Christmas! 🎄”

[4] The AI sermon sounds to me like the epitome of what someone who does not go to church thinks a sermon is:

“Beloved in Christ,

On this most holy night, we gather to celebrate the wondrous mystery of God’s love made manifest in the birth of Jesus Christ. The readings we have just heard from Luke, Isaiah, the Psalms, and Titus form a symphony of hope, light, and joy—a message the world needs as much now as it did on that first Christmas night.

Luke’s Gospel transports us to Bethlehem, to a humble stable where the Savior of the world is born. The angel’s proclamation to the shepherds resounds through the ages: “Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord” (Luke 2:10-11). In this simple yet profound moment, heaven and earth are united. The King of Kings enters the world not with trumpets and thrones, but with the cries of a newborn child and the humility of a manger. This is a God who comes to dwell among us—to share our humanity, our joys, and our sorrows.

Isaiah’s prophecy declares, “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness—on them light has shined” (Isaiah 9:2). Tonight, we are reminded that the light of Christ shines brightest in the deepest darkness. Whatever shadows may linger in our lives—whether they be fear, grief, or uncertainty—the birth of Jesus assures us that God’s light cannot be overcome.

Psalm 96 calls us to respond with joy: “Sing to the Lord a new song; sing to the Lord, all the whole earth… let the heavens rejoice, and let the earth be glad; let the sea thunder and all that is in it” (Psalm 96:1, 11). This is a cosmic celebration, for the birth of Christ is not just for humanity but for all of creation. On this night, the heavens rejoice, and the earth is glad, for the Lord has come to dwell with us.

In his letter to Titus, Paul writes, “The grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation to all” (Titus 2:11). This grace teaches us to live with hope and expectation, to renounce the things that pull us away from God, and to embrace the love that transforms our hearts and lives. The birth of Christ is not just a historical event; it is a present reality that invites us into a new way of living—one marked by peace, justice, and love.

So, what does this mean for us tonight, as we gather to celebrate the Nativity of our Lord?

First, it means that God’s love is for all people. The angels appeared not to kings or priests but to shepherds—ordinary people living on the margins of society. This good news is for everyone, regardless of status, wealth, or background. The Christ child is born for you, for me, for the whole world.

Second, it means that hope is stronger than despair. The world Jesus entered was one of oppression, poverty, and fear. Yet his birth ignited a hope that could not be extinguished. Whatever burdens we carry tonight, we are invited to lay them at the manger and trust in the God who brings light into our darkness.

Finally, it means that we are called to share this good news. The shepherds did not keep the angel’s message to themselves; they went to see the child and then spread the word to others. Like them, we are called to proclaim the joy of Christ’s birth through our words and actions, bringing hope and love to a world in need.

As we kneel before the manger tonight, may we open our hearts to the wonder and mystery of God’s love. May the light of Christ shine in us and through us, bringing peace and joy to all we encounter. And may we join with the angels and shepherds, with all creation, in singing: “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!” (Luke 2:14).

Merry Christmas, dear friends. Amen.

[5] Jessica Mesman, “The Problem with AI Is Us,” The Christian Century, 28 March 2024. https://www.christiancentury.org/features/problem-artificial-intelligence-us

[6] Wikipedia, “Augustus.” https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Augustus

Wikipedia, “Ars Pacis.” https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ara_Pacis

[7] Patricia J. Williams, “Torn Apart,” The New York Review of Books, Volume LXXI, Number 19, December 5, 2024, 16.

[8] “With the Not on Your Life story, what’s really at stake is the Christian virtue of hope. Hope says human beings will never create a good outcome to their own story, neither individually by concocting their own survival in a robot nor collectively by creating an idealized utopia. Instead, God brings the future toward us and ushers us into ultimate companionship with the Trinity, one another, and the new creation, in spite of and uninhibited by our selfishness and fear. We can’t know if AI will eradicate humankind, but we can trust that it won’t eliminate God. The truth is that humankind will die out eventually, by external catastrophe or internal folly. But hope informs us that what God has in store for us individually and collectively is so much more than what we now have—and that our ultimate future lies in God’s hands, not ours.” Sam Wells, “Faith, Hope, Love, and AI,” The Christian Century, 16 February 2024. https://www.christiancentury.org/voices/faith-hope-love-and-ai

[9] The Westminster Standard, “Shorter Catechism: Text and Scripture Proofs,” https://thewestminsterstandard.org/westminster-shorter-catechism/

[10] Henry David Thoreau, The Illustrated Walden (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1971) 8, 7.

[11] Ibid., 132.

[12] Ibid., 97.

[13] Saturday 27 January 2001

“a concert of redwings…  Some old and skillful performer touches these deep and liquid notes, and the rest seem to get up a concert just to encourage him.  Yet it is ever a prelude or essay with him, as are all good things, and the melody he is capable of and which we did not hear this time is what we remember.  The future will draw him out.”

Henry David Thoreau, Journal XIII (4/29/1860), p. 265

I keep planning to stop writing here.  I’m preaching next week but far more importantly I have been immersed in the waters of nostalgia as I come to the end of reading Thoreau’s Journal.  I began this whole reading enterprise in July or August and it has been a central part of nearly every day.  At night I dream of all these places.  In the afternoons I visit them or try to imagine how my reflections on them could be of use to someone else.  More than anything I need to stop writing here and begin writing my dissertation.

I keep feeling a mild melancholy as I read Thoreau’s Journal.  I guess this feeling is related to what one might feel in approaching the end of Walden.  Part of us wishes he never did leave the woods. We want to imagine him still there.  This kind of feeling is intensified in reading the Journal. We want to believe that he never did stop his work as a watchman for the glory of God, attentive to the seasons and the phenomena which presented itself to him in Concord.  As I read the account I keep thinking.  Rejoice Henry, you will never watch the spring come in again.  You will never see this particular beauty in the river again, you will never come so close to fully imagining the life of a musquash, you will never see another leaf drift down in the Beech tree forest near to Sandy pond.  For God’s sake Henry enjoy that warm breeze as you watch west from Fairhaven Cliffs and see the sun set behind a bank of horizontal clouds, this is the end.  Perhaps I could say the same thing for us.

Malcolm Clemens Young, Harvard Notebook (Unpublished), Chapter 20, Saturday 27 January 2001.