Shepherding Electric Sheep

AI has made great strides in the past few months, leading to conversations about AI’s role in the world. Is AI-created art art? Is AI going to replace millions of jobs? Is AI’s intelligence going to surpass human intelligence? How is it going to shape our understanding of the world, of information and expression, of consciousness?

Pope Francis recently addressed AI, citing the benefits it can contribute to areas like medicine and engineering, but he also cautioned developers to “respect such values as inclusion, transparency, security, equity, privacy and reliability.” You’ll forgive me if I’m not as trusting as the pope. I don’t trust developers, or rather, the corporations funding AI, to act ethically.

Technology should be used to benefit humanity—to reduce suffering and inequality. And yet, it’s often used for profit—increasing inequality and remaining unaccountable for its consequences on society. With AI, it’s not just about the haves getting the profits and the nots not, but also the impact it will have on information, verification of the truth, and personal/social biases in the coding creating the algorithms.   

But even beyond its use, AI raises other ethical questions. Can an artificial creation become sentient? Would it, in fact, be alive? Does it deserve rights and autonomy? Or are we just anthropomorphizing a computer that we’ve programed to mimic human consciousness and emotions? What happens to our connections if we can’t tell who we’re talking to is human or not? Does it cheapen the human experience if it can be replicated by AI?

I think the questions should be asked and debated long before the technology becomes common-place. Some are having those conversations. In 2021, the Pontifical Council of Culture held a symposium “The Challenge of Artificial Intelligence for Human Society and the Idea of the Human Person.” The panels addressed how and to what extent the emergence of AI requires us to rethink what it means to be human, the prescriptive and normative consequences that AI raises, and humanity and hope in the context of emerging AI.

But I think in the broader society, we lack substantive, ethical conversations on technology in general. Just because we can do something doesn’t necessarily mean we should. And what we allow shapes who we are. We are a society that allows organ transplants, in vitro fertilization, and GMOs. We flirt around the idea of using nuclear weapons and general reject creating human clones (though cloned animals are ok). Why is that? It is about our personal comfort, or are there real ethical lines?

As Christians, we should approach all our actions with ethical concern, including what technology should be embraced, rejected, or used with caution. I don’t know how much AI will disrupt society nor its true impact. I don’t know what social and ethical consequences it may bring. But I do know we need to be aware of the ethical implications of new technology and address what is and isn’t worth society’s acceptance. We need to form our consciences before the robots do.

Monday Motivation: Conversion

 "We are converted not only once in our lives but many times. And the conversion is little by little. Sometimes it is as imperceptible as grass growing. But Lent give us a time to move the process along. Intentionally. By small surrenders." - Emilie Griffin

Echtra Éire

For Lent, I've been writing a poem a day. They aren't that good or thought out; it's more about the consistency and stretching a small, creative muscle. But, since today is St. Patrick's Day, my daily poem took a distinctly Irish tone. 

Echtra Éire

Air plays over Éire,
Err and ire and emerald fire,
Magic mist reveals mythical inhabitants:
A mad king and phantom queen,
A hound from the north,
Warriors and raiders and seafaring shepherds,
Cattle and clans clashing,
The Derry raided, Brigid cries over spilled milk,
Shannon runs, the Cailleach wraps winter round her,
Fairies dance, banshees scream, leprechauns mend their shoes,
Men ride alongside gods in war,
Giants storm the beach,
A slave stands to preach,
Snakes flee at a foreign brogue.
This outpost outlier, saving Christendom
In Colmcille’s convents, on Brendon’s boats.
Land of milk and poteen,
New World roots buried in the ground
Disperse old guard to set down New World roots.
Calamitous colonization,
Famine and emancipation,
Death and humor and oppression and craic.
What nonsense, Joyce, from a landlocked island
A Jung man sitting for portraits
While Finians wake and glare east
Facing the never-setting sun
Breaking the rites of spring:
On the day when His blood shed, peace
On the day of Resurrection, death.
Riddle and rhymes and revival,
Connacht’s love songs and Seamus’ poems,
New identity forged in hidden world, forgotten words:
Erin, go back,
Éire go brách.

Egeria the Pilgrim

Today is the International Day of the Woman. To mark the occasion, I’d like to highlight a woman, who, though her true identity is unknown, was one of the earliest Christian pilgrims, who traveled across Europe and the Middle East, and who, by sharing her account with other women, documented an important time in ecclesiastical and linguistic history, creating an invaluable resource for centuries to come.

Egeria is the name given to the author of a very early travel log, detailing a fourth-century pilgrimage to the Holy Land. It is written by a woman to a group of women back home. It has survived only in fragments, much of it discovered at Monte Cassino in the 11th century. The earliest fragment copy, written in a Carolingian script, is from the 9th century.

Sometimes we forget how much ancient people actually travelled. It is difficult for me to imagine a woman travelling on her own to the Holy Land in the 380s. But actually, it’s almost more difficult to believe that for centuries monks found this woman’s account to other women worthwhile enough to preserve. Because of that, it is the earliest detailed account of Christian pilgrimage.

The name Egeria comes from a Roman mythological water nymph who served an early king of Rome as consort and counselor. The name came to be used to describe a woman advisor.

It is possible that Egeria is really St. Sylvia of Aquitaine. Sylvia was born into a wealthy family in Aquitaine in the fourth century. Her brother, Rufinus, became a chief minister of the Byzantine Empire. He welded great influence in the East, so it’s possible to see how Sylvia was able—socially, physically, financially— to travel to so many holy places at that time. If Sylvia also held any political voice via her brother’s position, it’s easy to see how the name Egeria would apply to her.

In her pilgrimage, Egeria travels to Mount Sinai, Mount Nebo, the tomb of Job (in modern-day Syria), and the burial place of Haran and the city of Nahor (both in modern-day Turkey). She stays in Jerusalem for about three years, making trips to holy places around there, including the Sea of Galilee.

On her way back to Europe, she stops at the shrine of St. Thecla, a follow of Paul, in Turkey. She had a particular following from women. Egeria concludes this portion of her pilgrimage in Constantinople, though her letter mentions that she plans to go to Ephesus as well.    

In her writings, she also goes into detail about how the Church worships in Jerusalem, particularly Holy Week and Easter. The liturgical calendar was still being developed, yet Egeria gives account of observances and how they were practiced. Her records have given researchers a better understanding of the early Church, the development of the liturgical calendar and feasts, and the evolution from Latin to Proto-Romance language.

Although information is much easier to come by today, Egeria reminds us to take the trip, experience things for yourself, and document your journey. You never know who may be inspired or educated by it.