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AI
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4 min read

It's our mistakes that make us human

What we learn distinguishes us from tech.

Silvianne Aspray is a theologian and postdoctoral fellow at the University of Cambridge.

A man staring at a laptop grimmaces and holds his hands to his head.
Francisco De Legarreta C. on Unsplash.

The distinction between technology and human beings has become blurry: AI seems to be able to listen, answer our questions, even respond to our feelings. It becomes increasingly easy to confuse machines with humans. In this situation, it is increasingly important to ask: What makes us human, in distinction from machines? There are many answers to this question, but for now I would like to focus on just one aspect of what I think is distinctively human: As human beings, we live and learn in time.  

To be human means to be intrinsically temporal. We live in time and are oriented towards a future good. We are learning animals, and our learning is bound up with the taking of time. When we learn to know or to do something, we necessarily make mistakes, and we take practice. But keeping in view something we desire – a future good – we keep going.  

Let’s take the example of language. We acquire language in community over time. Toddlers make all sorts of hilarious mistakes when they first try to talk, and it takes them a long time even to get single words right, let alone to try and form sentences. But they keep trying, and they eventually learn. The same goes with love: Knowing how to love our family or our neighbours near and far is not something we are good at instantly. It is not the sort of learning where you absorb a piece of information and then you ‘get’ it. No, we learn it over time, we imitate others, we practice and even when we have learned, in the abstract, what it is to be loving, we keep getting it wrong. 

This, too, is part of what it means to be human: to make mistakes. Not the sort of mistakes machines make, when they classify some information wrongly, for instance, but the very human mistake of falling short of your own ideal. Of striving towards something you desire – happiness, in the broadest of terms – and yet falling short, in your actions, of that very goal. But there’s another very human thing right here: Human beings can also change. They – we – can have a change of heart, be transformed, and at some point in time, actually start to do the right thing – even against all the odds. Statistics of past behaviours, do not always correctly predict future outcomes. Part of being human means that we can be transformed.  

Transformation sometimes comes suddenly, when an overwhelming, awe-inspiring experience changes somebody’s life as by a bolt of lightning. Much more commonly, though, such transformation takes time. Through taking up small practices, we can form new habits, gradually acquire virtue, and do the right thing more often than not. This is so human: We are anything but perfect. As Christians would say: We have a tendency to entangle ourselves in the mess of sin and guilt. But we also bear the image of the Holy One who made us, and by the grace and favour of that One, we are not forever stuck in the mess. We are redeemed: are given the strength to keep trying, despite the mistakes we make, and given the grace to acquire virtue and become better people over time. All of this to say that being human means to live in time, and to learn in time. 

So, this is a real difference between human beings and machines: Human beings can, and do strive toward a future good. 

Now compare this to the most complex of machines. We say that AI is able to “learn”. But what does it mean to learn, for AI? Machine learning is usually categorized into supervised learning, unsupervised and self-supervised learning. Supervised learning means that a model is trained for a specific task based on correctly labelled data. For instance, if a model is to predict whether a mammogram image contains a cancerous tumour, it is given many example images which are correctly classed as ‘contains cancer’ or ‘does not contain cancer’. That way, it is “taught” to recognise cancer in unlabelled mammograms. Unsupervised learning is different. Here, the system looks for patterns in the dataset it is given. It clusters and groups data without relying on predefined labels. Self-supervised learning uses both methods: Here, the system uses parts of the data itself as a kind of label – such as, for instance, predicting the upper half of an image from its lower half, or the next word in a given text. This is the predominant paradigm for how contemporary large-scale AI models “learn”.  

In each case, AI’s learning is necessarily based on data sets. Learning happens with reference to pre-given data, and in that sense with reference to the past. It may look like such models can consider the future, and have future goals, but only insofar as they have picked up patterns in past data, which they use to predict future patterns – as if the future was nothing but a repetition of the past.  

So this is a real difference between human beings and machines: Human beings can, and do strive toward a future good. Machines, by contrast, are always oriented towards the past of the data that was fed to them. Human beings are intrinsically temporal beings, whereas machines are defined by temporality only in a very limited sense: it takes time to upload data, and for the data to be processed, for instance. Time, for machines, is nothing but an extension of the past, whereas for human beings, it is an invitation to and the possibility for being transformed for the sake of a future good. We, human beings, are intrinsically temporal, living in time towards a future good – which machines do not.  

In the face of new technologies we need a sharpened sense for the strange and awe-inspiring species that is the human race, and cultivate a new sense of wonder about humanity itself.  

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Awe and wonder
Creed
Easter
Film & TV
5 min read

Heading Home: a pilgrimage that breaks out beauty along the way

We can learn a new language together as we travel.

Jonathan is Team Rector for Wickford and Runwell. He is co-author of The Secret Chord, and writes on the arts.

A shaft of light from an opening in a dome lights a cross on a pedestal.
Church of the Holy Sepulchre.
Kieran Dodds.

This film, this pilgrimage, this story begins in Jerusalem in the rotunda of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre with its Aedicule, a small chapel, containing the tomb from which Jesus rose.  

Jesus' resurrection was revolutionary because it is the first fruits of a wider resurrection into a new heaven and a new earth, the new Jerusalem, where all that is harmful on earth is transformed into eternal glory and beauty. 

The Church of the Holy Sepulchre holds that vision within its walls, a vision that was then transported throughout the world through pilgrimage and creatively replicated in other locations so that all who entered their local church or cathedral would be transported through art and architecture to the New Jerusalem.  

US philanthropist and author Roberta Ahmanson thinks that American Protestants, in particular, have neglected this story because of the Reformation's preference for word over image. As a result, in 2022, she gathered an eclectic group of Christian college presidents, church pastors, and Christian creatives taking them on a pilgrimage from Jerusalem to London via Italy and Aachen while filming their responses to the visual history of the New Jerusalem as found in the churches they visit. In their two-week journey, the group cover almost 2,000 years of church art and architecture. 

Ahmanson explains that this search for the reality of the Kingdom of God as it is to be realised in the New Jerusalem at the end of time did not mean that pilgrims were to abandon the world. On the contrary, she says, "their job was to serve this world to make it more like the heavenly home where their ultimate citizenship lay." That remains the aim of this art and architecture as:  

“By studying the nature of that promised place, as artists and architects and writers of the past have sought to express it, we are schooled to live lives of wholeness and beauty right here on earth. The longing for beauty is ultimately a longing to be Home, to be in the place where we are whole.” 

The beauty of the churches visited on this pilgrimage provided a vision of the New Jerusalem to those who entered in order that they took that vision into their everyday lives when they left. Along the way, the pilgrims on this trip learnt how artists, architects and theologians worked in parallel for many centuries – from Saint Augustine’s vision of a New Jerusalem to Dante’s admonitions about the Last Judgment. 

The film combines scenes of beautiful interiors with explanations of their significance from Ahmanson and others, plus it shows the reactions of various of the pilgrims as they allow their sense of wonder and understanding of Church history to be expanded. David and Joy Bailey, founders of Arrabon which cultivates Christian communities to pursue healing and reconciliation in a racially divided world, are two of those to have spoken about the impact the trip had on the group of pilgrims.   

Joy said: “Everybody was very literate coming from these strong traditions of faith being either oral or written but to see it so visually impacting, it was breaking us all open and trying to find language for that took the entire trip.” David suggested that: “What the trip was helping you to see was this deeper rootedness, this long tradition that, I think, could actually be very helpful for us today because some of the things that were there were the understanding of humanity as plain on the outside and beauty on the inside, the glory that comes with the inward journey that reflects on Heaven as it is on Earth.”  

Re-enacting, revisiting and reinhabiting Christ's journey to the cross and the meaning of his resurrection remains central to Christian experience 

As we travel further from Jerusalem in the film, we are surprised to find that the template of the Holy Sepulchre continues to inspire and shape the experience of pilgrims. Ahmanson explains that: “In churches across the old Roman Empire, from Africa and Palestine to the furthest reaches of Britain, liturgy was created to tell the story and to bring the spaces alive in the telling. Pilgrimages to Jerusalem and later to Rome and then to the tomb of Saint James in Spain became a kind of geographic liturgy. When the trip became too long or … too dangerous, believers found alternative destinations. Across the continent, from Magdeburg in Germany and Constance in Switzerland, to Bologna and Pisa in Italy and London and Cambridge in England, round churches or smaller models replicating the Church of the Holy Sepulchre became pilgrim destinations.” 

Re-enacting, revisiting and reinhabiting Christ's journey to the cross and the meaning of his resurrection remains central to Christian experience, particularly during Lent and Holy Week. Walking labyrinths, Palm Sunday processions and Passion dramas, praying the Stations of the Cross, washing feet on Maundy Thursday, sharing a Passover meal, the Good Friday three-hour devotional, and the Dawn Eucharist on Easter Day are among the many ways Christians continue to follow in the footsteps of Jesus while remaining where they are during this most special season.  

Many of these practices provide the opportunity to go on pilgrimage while remaining at home. Just as with images of the New Jerusalem brought from Jerusalem to the churches of Europe, so with, for example, the practice of praying the Stations of the Cross which originated in medieval Europe when pilgrims were unable to visit the Holy Land, so instead “visited” the Holy places through prayer.  

The film, and other creative off-shoots including exhibitions of photographs from the pilgrimage taken by Kieran Dodds and performances by spoken word poet Street Hymns (one of the pilgrims), with his fellow poets Hanna Watson, Jasmine Sims, and Lo Alaman, in response to images of the New Jerusalem, provide viewers with a similar opportunity to experience, reflect and pray. The aim of all these initiatives is, as Ahmanson explains, what has always been the aim; “to serve this world to make it more like the heavenly home” where our ultimate citizenship lies, and to do so by “creating beauty in buildings and art and music and serving the suffering and those in all kinds of need”. 

 

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