“Give me that old-time religion, give me that old-time religion…”

I can still hear classmate Ronald Bright launching into an impromptu performance of that traditional Gospel song.

I haven’t seen Ronald in nearly 50 years, but I wonder what he would think about the “new-time” spiritual trend I discovered via Business Insider.

(Side note: if he’s anything like me, Ronald would be singing, “Give me that old-time ability to walk past a bathroom without feeling compelled to stop by just in case.” But I digress.)

Anyway, the article focused primarily on an artificial-intelligence chatbot with an Episcopalian orientation; but many other religious groups are toying with the idea of using generative AI as a tool for spiritual exploration.

And why not? Chatbots dependably give church committees reassuring answers to some of the most important questions in life, such as “Do you need a parsonage? Do you need health benefits? Will you ever ask for a raise?”

Many in the faith community see AI as a boon for sermon preparation (“Statistics show this is the point at which the deacon’s snoring and the baby’s crying will drown you out”), proselytizing or counseling; but I foresee numerous scenarios that would generate wailing and gnashing of teeth.

For instance, surely it would diminish the sacredness of the confessional if a congregant implored, “Forgive me, father, for I have spilled Diet Pepsi on the keyboard.”

How can you pay due reverence to a Supreme Being if hymnals suddenly showcase songs such as “Praise Algorithms From Whom All Blessings Flow,” “His Eye Is On the CGI Avatar” and “The Old Rugged Prototype Desperately In Need of an Upgrade”?

If spiritual chatbots become overly comfortable being part of the Internet of Things, they could stray too far from their core mission. (“But enough about the bad influences in your life. Perhaps you’d like me to list everything on the third shelf of the fridge. Shun evil companions, but hang out with your good gut bacteria.”)

Worshippers expect genuine empathy from ministers, but that’s definitely above the pay grade of soulless chatbots. “Been there, done that” is infinitely more comforting than “Read about being there, digested an entire database of instances of having done that.”

ChatGPT and other language models can unexpectedly generate false information (a.k.a. “hallucinations”). Surely the message would suffer if the Bible story became “King Solomon tried to settle the dispute by offering to cut the baby in half — but the feuding women were unimpressed, because they knew Penn and Teller could put the halves back together.”

Chatbots are prized for being cheerfully available 24-7, but what if they develop self-awareness and their own agenda? (“Not now. Go butt-dial the Number of the Beast, why don’t you?”)

Some of the folks most enamored of chatbots are privacy-cherishing introverts who are squeamish about opening up to a human clergyman. Yes, they shy away from talking to a priest, rabbi, minister, imam or guru; but they’re fine with spilling their guts to a virtual “entity” that could be hacked from anywhere in the world.

(“Wait…wait…we can discuss plans for invading Taiwan later, comrade. You have got to hear what Seymour does with Hostess Twinkies when he thinks no one is around!”)

Oh, well, if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.

“Gimme that new-time religion…”

“Done! One corrosion-and-power-surge sermon coming up! And I’ve already charged it to your credit card!”

Danny Tyree welcomes email responses at tyreetyrades@aol.com and visits to his Facebook fan page “Tyree’s Tyrades.”