Can Computers have souls?

I saw the film “2001, A Space Odyssey” when I was about 8; I was far too young to understand it but now I understand why many saw it as being prophetic. Amongst other things, it concerns a rogue computer, Hal, who has been programmed to ensure the success of a space mission. Hal decides the human crew may be imperilling the mission and so it follows its own logic by seeking to kill them. This week saw the announcement from the US Defence Department that a drone, equipped with artificial intelligence to strike a target, would in all probability kill its own operator if the individual sought to recall it. Computers programmed with artificial intelligence have great potential for good; I work with a colleague essentially using a simple form of this to design new drugs. However, the experts in the field are worried for a reason; how do we programme in morality and ethics? I suspect this is a problem which can be solved, at least to a degree, but if this is done, what then is the status of the computer? Would it fully replicate the way a human would behave, at least one driven by pure logic? In the film, 2001, Hal pleaded with the surviving astronauts not to switch it off, to spare its “life”.

Some years before “2001” was made, a scientist-priest, Teilhard de Chardin, also pondered what makes us human. He wrote “We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings having a human experience”. I wonder if it this that ultimately will seperate us from intelligent, even moral, computers?

Rev David Poyner

Doubt as Faith

A few weeks ago in a family gathering, the conversation moved to a dead relative who had been a vicar. One person wasn’t sure just how much he actually believed; when she had talked to him he apparently admitted to doubts and uncertainties. I have to say in my conversations with him I never noticed this, but perhaps that was just me. However, I wonder if the issue was that, as a vicar, my relative was expected to be confident that he knew the answers to all the hard questions in life, to have solved the mysteries of suffering and to know precisely what would happen when we die. If that was the case, then I too will disappoint many.

As a scientist, I spend my working life grasping with mysteries and things I do not understand. As I write this, I am trying to work out why an experiment I did this week did not work; I may never know but I will carry on and try and solve the problem another way. I am comfortable with doubt. So it also is in my spiritual life; the only difference is that God is the ultimate in mystery; when I conclude a service by praying that we may have the peace of God, “that passes human understanding”, that is not a cop-out, it is an admission that there is a limit to what the human mind can achieve. Over the years, I have come to recognise that my doubts are just another aspect of my faith; they remind me that I need to approach God with awe and wonder, not trusting in my own intellect.

Rev David Poyner

Tina Turner

Some will be aware that I’m not a great follower of pop music; if it isn’t played on Classic FM, I’m probably not interested in it. But even I did a double-take when I saw the headlines this week that told of the death of Tina Turner. My images of her were from the late 1970s; the powerful young(ish) woman, dancing on stage; not someone in their 84th year. And of course, I did recognise her music once it was played; “Simply the best” was belted out by the stadium announcer every time Kidderminster Harriers took to the pitch, more in hope than expectation….

It wasn’t until I heard “Thought for the Day” this morning (26th May), that I learnt something of her spiritual history. Brought up a Baptist in the south of America, after escaping an abusive husband she turned to Buddhism. She found strength in its practice of meditation. Her spiritual journey continued; I learnt that in the last decade of her life she produced a series of albums drawing on the meditative music of six faiths. From these she drew strength and inspiration.

Throughout the ups and downs of her life, Tina Turner never lost sight that she had spiritual needs as well as emotional, physical and psychological ones. As a Christian priest I have not followed her own journey of faith.  However, in an intensively materialistic culture, where only things we can touch and see are considered real and worthy of respect, those who hum and dance to her music might reflect on how she drew on the spiritual as her inspiration.

Rev David Poyner

On Doors

We recently had a visit from the church architect at Billingsley, which coincided with a person updating a book on Shropshire churches. We spent a few minutes admiring the rather fine Norman-style door and the splendid, perhaps medieval, wooden porch at Billingsley. There is prayer dating from the late 8th century that a Saxon cleric named Alcuin apparently fixed over the door of one his churches; It reads –

“This is the gate of heaven, the door of eternal life: it leads the traveller towards the stars.  On entering, a person may penetrate the heavenly mountain, if he takes with him faith and hope as his companions.  Here forgiveness may be sought, if the pilgrim enters with a devout heart, and on foot.  Here also a sinner may shed his evil acts and with tears wash this sacred threshold.  Then purged by tears of repentance and adorned with humility, he is worthy to enter the holy places of God.  I believe that Jesus in his mercy forgives their sins, so that whoever enters sad will emerge more joyful.”

I like it and have toyed with displaying it on some of the church doors in our benefice. But, on rereading it, I was struck by some words of the late Bishop John Robinson, which I have also recently featured. John pointed out the dwelling place of God is not the church, either as a building or even as the company of believers; it tis the world. With that in mind, should Alcuin’s prayer be on the outside of the door to welcome people into a building, or on the inside to challenge visitors as they leave?

Rev David Poyner

The Swords

It seems that an unexpected star of the coronation last weekend was the Lord President of the Council, Penny Mordaunt who spent the best part of two hours holding up various swords. She was a striking figure, always present in the corner of the television pictures. I was however also fascinated by the swords themselves and their associated symbolism. For me, the most intriguing was the Sword of Offering. This was blessed by the Archbishop who asked that it be a symbol of justice and mercy, not judgement and might. As he handed it to the King, he told him to do justice and stop evil, protect the church, defend the week and to punish wrong-doing. It was then placed back on the altar before Penny Mordaunt redeemed it by paying 100 shillings; she then carried it for the rest of the service. I do not fully understand all the symbolism but I suspect at its heart is a recognition that anyone in authority must make difficult decisions, often having to pick the lesser of several evils. The swords may reflect a pre-Christian practice in the coronation, but the Bible also reflects the tension between showing mercy and doing justice, loving enemies and protecting the week. Perhaps the payment of the redemption money to the altar has something to do with recognising that we are all fallen and need the mercy of God, the ultimate redeemer. The power a ruler exercises is only ever borrowed from God and they will need wisdom from God in doing that; humility and forgiveness when they get it wrong.

Of course, King Charles does not exercise political power, that belongs to politicians, like Penny Mordaunt. And when they sit in the House of Lords, the Bishops are also inevitably entering into politics, albeit trying to bring a spiritual perspective. And so this week, we saw the dilemma of the swords being acted out in the House of Lords; arguments on immigration, picking the least bad option, how to juggle truth and love. That needs wisdom on how to use the swords.
Rev David Poyner