As a person of faith raised in a religious household, I have a clear picture of what prayer means to me.
Prayer is the practice by which I draw closer to God, petition for my needs, request guidance and ask forgiveness.
In times of trouble, I cast my anxieties and questions and emerge with either answers or a sustaining sense of peace.
It is unclear when a question becomes a prayer, but it may have less to do with content and more with my expectations.
I have never thought of ChatGPT as a god, nor have I asked its forgiveness. Yet in moments of confusion, I find myself calling upon it almost compulsively.
At first, this was limited to recipes and poetry. Then I began asking for its read on my relationships, habits and future.
Despite knowing its hallucinations and lack of moral obligation, I seem to believe it offers something real.
I am soothed by the tidiness of a five-bullet-point plan and the imitation of a reassuring voice.
It offers guidance that sounds certain, even if synthetic.
Why would a Christian turn to a robot with her questions? Because at least this god answers, one might think.
But saints and mystics would smile at that.
The Christians most celebrated for wisdom were often those familiar with God's silence, not His chatter.
His silence became another form of communion, His absence another kind of presence.
Simone Weil, a 20th-century mystic, defined prayer as attention.
In a letter included in 'Waiting for God', she speaks of prayer as the orientation of all attention towards God.
The French word for attention is linked to the word for waiting, attendre.
The collection's title, 'Attente de Dieu', bears the same secret: decent prayer is mostly just waiting.
No wonder there is a temptation to turn to ChatGPT. The unbearable wait is exactly the burden its instantaneous answers promise to lift.
I am so anxious to rid myself of this burden that even false certainty is preferable to discomfort.
The sacred space between question and answer
The lives of mystics like Weil were marked by contemplation. To contemplate is not to conclude, but to deeply consider, reflect, observe.
At the Latin root of 'contemplation' is the word 'temple'.
The gap between my question and its answer is a place made sacred by the unknowing that produces discomfort.
When ChatGPT unhesitatingly grants answers to questions of faith, it invades this space.
It satisfies us with a false sense of security, but the satisfaction is its own kind of deprivation.
The machine relieves me of discomfort, but deprives me of waiting. Its bullet points assault my silence.
It robs me of contemplation, of the holy ground between question and answer.
For the mystic, this space had more to do with seeking than finding.
Lingering in the gap yielded patience, wisdom, compassion, and familiarity with mysteries that resist simple answers.
Whether or not we call it holy, the gap between questions and answers is charged with potential.
To let a bot hustle me from it prematurely is to forgo its treasures.
Where answers evade me, I am poised for deeper discovery. I find myself further from certainty and, hopefully, closer to truth.
Coded for certainty rather than mystery, ChatGPT is ill-equipped to aid my search for truth.
Perhaps instead I'll do as the song says, and take it to the Lord in prayer.
