The Rector’s Chronicle

Sermon, Second Sunday of Easter (Year C) from the Rector

Dear Friends in Christ,

We live in a time when human beings are creating things of extraordinary power.

Artificial intelligence is advancing at a remarkable pace. It can already do things faster, more accurately, and in some cases more intelligently than we can. And it raises a real question, not just a technological one, but a deeply human one.

What does it mean to be human in a world where machines will soon outstrip us in intelligence and productivity?

Our Gospel this morning has something to say about that question, I think.

We meet Thomas, often called “Doubting Thomas,” though that is perhaps a little unfair. Thomas is not a cynic. He is not rejecting the truth. He is simply asking for evidence. He wants to see. He wants to understand.

“Unless I see… I will not believe.”

And there is something deeply admirable about that. It is honest. It is rational. It refuses to pretend certainty where there is none.

In that sense, Thomas represents something essential in all of us. The part of us that questions. The part of us that tests. The part of us that seeks truth carefully and seriously.

And that is not something Christianity rejects. But it is not enough.

Because when Jesus appears, he does not simply give Thomas the evidence he asked for. He invites him into something more.

“Do not doubt but believe.”

And Thomas responds, not with a measured conclusion, but with a confession: “My Lord and my God.”

What has happened is not simply that Thomas has solved a problem. It is that he has entered into a relationship.

And that is the turning point.

Because human reason, on its own, can take us a long way. It can analyze, compare, evaluate. It can build extraordinary systems, even machines that begin to rival us.

But it cannot, on its own, bring us into the fullness of what it means to be human.

For that, something more is needed.

Faith. Relationship. Encounter with the living God.

That is what Saint Peter is pointing to in our first reading: “Although you have not seen him, you love him… and rejoice with an indescribable and glorious joy.”

This is a remarkable claim. Not that we have proven Christ. Not that we have mastered him intellectually. But that we love him, trust him, and are being drawn into life through him.

And that brings us back to the world we are now entering.

Because there are two great temptations when we think about technologies like AI.  One is to believe that they will save us. That greater intelligence will solve problems. That progress will bring about something like salvation. The other is to fear them completely. To see them as a threat that will overwhelm, diminish and destroy us.

The Christian tradition, and particularly the Anglican tradition, offers us a different path. A via media, a middle way.

Not naïve enthusiasm. Not fearful rejection. But a clear and ordered vision of what is good.

AI is a powerful tool. Like many tools, it can do certain things much better than we can. It can process information, recognize patterns, and perform tasks with astonishing efficiency.

There is nothing wrong with that. In fact, human creativity in making such machines reflects something of the image of God.

But here is the crucial point. We must never define ourselves by the things that machines can surpass us in. Because those things were never the measure of our true worth.

If we think that being human is primarily about intelligence, or productivity, or efficiency, then sooner or later machines will be superior.

But that is not what Scripture tells us human value actually is. Scripture tells us:

We are made in the image of God.

We are capable of relationship with God.

We are moral beings, responsible for our choices.

We are capable of love, of worship, of self-giving.

And those things are not measured by intelligence or productivity. They are measured by our participation in the life of God.

AI has no such life. It has no moral awareness. It does not love. It does not worship. It does not stand before God as his creation. It stands before us as ours.

It can be trained to follow moral rules. But it cannot be moral.

And that means something very important.

It must remain our servant.

Not because it is weak, but because it lacks what matters most.

And here is where the real challenge lies.

The danger is not simply that AI might go wrong on its own.

The deeper danger is that we may use it wrongly.

That our own failures, our own lack of moral clarity, our own desire for power or control, may be built into the systems we create.

AI will amplify what we are.

So the question is not only, “What will AI become?”

It is, fundamentally, “What will we become?”

Will we have the moral courage to ensure these tools are used for good, and that moral responsibility always remains with us?

That we do not hand over judgment, or conscience, or accountability to machines?

Because those belong to us. They belong to creatures made in the image of God.

And this is where Thomas helps us again. Thomas shows us that reason matters. Doubt, when things are unclear, is not a weakness.

But he also shows us that reason, on its own, is not enough.

It must lead us into faith.

Into relationship.

Into the recognition that the deepest truth about ourselves is not that we think, or how clever we are, but that we are known and loved by God.

“My Lord and my God.” That is the center.

And from that center, everything else finds its place.

Including the tools we create.

So we do not need to compete with machines.

We do not need to be more intelligent or more productive than they are.

Because our significance does not lie there.

It lies in this:

That we are called into a living hope, as Saint Peter says.

That we are being shaped into people whose faith is more precious than gold.

That we are invited into a life that no machine can replicate or replace.

A life in relationship with the living God.

And if we hold onto that, if we remain rooted there, then we can use even the most powerful technologies wisely.

Making them not masters, but servants, in the service of human beings and in the service of God.

Amen.

With every blessing,

Father Tim Cole

Rector, Christ Church, Georgetown