The Gospel Against the Machine
by the Rt. Rev. Phil Ashey
Lately I've been reading a number of articles and essays by author and philosopher Paul Kingsnorth. Many of you may have read of his conversion from animism and eastern religions to Orthodox Christianity. In his latest essay, AI Demonic, he makes an astonishing and provocative proposition that the artificial intelligence we are creating is actually the furthest technological expression of humanity that will result in a kind of “technological nervous system.” This system we are building will create a new technological consciousness. But what is most provocative about Kingsnorth's essay is that he firmly believes there are spiritual forces behind this rapidly developing consciousness. And what is even more provocative is his assertion that these spiritual forces represent the anti-Christ.
Although it may seem far-fetched, Kingsnorth offers a compelling case, and I encourage you to read the whole article here.
“If the digital revolution represents a spiritual crisis (and I think it does), then a spiritual response is needed,” writes Kingsnorth. “That response, I would suggest, should be the practice of technological askesis.” Kingsnorth then goes on to suggest two ways of withdrawing, both of which reflect the two approaches that ancient Christians adopted in response to the world and culture around them. One is as radical as a monk living in a hermitage—withdrawing from the internet altogether. The second is not so radical but is fit for most people: a disciplined exercise of abstinence while living in the midst of the world. He goes on to say that technological askesis “consists mainly in the careful drawing of lines. We choose the limits of our engagement and then stick to them. Those limits might involve a proscription on the time spent engaging with screens, or a rule about the type of technology that will be used.”
This perspective seems particularly pertinent to the season we are going through in the ACNA in response to the Ruch trial. I'm referring to that part of the rapidly evolving technology we have that we call social media, whether Facebook, Instagram, or TikTok. I followed some commentary on Facebook over the past few weeks and was distressed by the level of anger in some of the comments that I read. It's clear from the Bible that we wrestle not against flesh and blood but against principalities, powers, and spiritual wickedness in high places. This is not meant to disregard the human sinful element and the need for human responsibility for sin and abuse. But I wonder if the current vitriol on Facebook as a response to this event in the province (and others that have come and gone) is an example of a larger spiritual reality shaping all of us.
The war we are waging on Facebook has more flesh than Spirit. Have we borrowed the weapons that the world uses to solve spiritual issues? Attack, condemnation, passing judgment in the absence of all of the facts and “cancelling” people with whom we disagree are the weapons of the world frequently employed online. But St. Paul reminds us in verses 4 and 5 of 2 Corinthians, Chapter 10, that the weapons we use are not those of the world but are weapons God gave us through His Holy Spirit, powerful enough to tear down strongholds. The weapons we use (or ought to use) on the internet should reflect those armaments that we have been given, listed in Ephesians, Chapter 6, especially among the members of our province.
What if we were to put on the helmet of salvation and commit ourselves to think in biblical ways, keeping with the words of Christ himself? What if we were to ask the kinds of questions that Jesus asked that push us deeper into our own hearts and what is going on there? Isn't that the location where we place upon ourselves the breastplate of righteousness to guard ourselves from rage, malice, and other vices? As we post our opinions, what if we were careful to put on the belt of truth, God's own Word, the words of Jesus, words through which he invites us to take up our cross and follow Him?
This leads us also to put on Gospel shoes, the preparation of our feet with the Gospel that may take us to places of humility, sacrifice, and even death to ourselves, death to our pride, and death to the temptation to judge others. What if we took up the Shield of Faith to extinguish fiery darts, and, when challenged or denigrated in the comments section on Facebook, we lift the shield of faith and not respond in kind? What if we took up the Sword of the Spirit, empowered by that same Spirit, and prayed in the Spirit at all times and in all occasions, as Christ commands us? What if we waited for God's Word to shape our thinking and whatever response we have?
As Paul Kingsnorth suggests, ordinary askesis means that we don’t just limit time on our screens, on Facebook, or on social media, but that we put it down, particularly when we are angry. The answer may well be that. The best way the ACNA can survive this crisis and the divisions that exist is to soul-search and contemplate the things at the heart of our church that divide us. We must also look for what exists in our own hearts that must be taken to the foot of the cross, where all of us are equally guilty.
The truth is, all of us have suffered wounds. But we can hide those insults, and yes, even those traumas, in the very wounds of Christ himself.
This does not obligate us to ignore sexual misconduct, abuse of power, or failure to follow ordination vows. These are things for which the clergy must maintain the highest standards as we provide in our canons (see ACNA Can. II.8.1, which applies to both clergy and lay leaders). But what if this whole episode enabled us to look more closely at ourselves as followers of Jesus in the Anglican Way? What if it was to learn how to model new ways of engaging one another that are in keeping with the heart, the eyes, the ears, and the lips of Christ himself? Wouldn’t that be an extraordinary witness to the watching world.
May it be so.
Note: For those who may be interested, you can find Paul Kingsnorth’s new book, Against the Machine, here.
