Looking at how AI and other emerging technologies spark new avenues of meaning for Christian theology and practice.
In this podcast episode Elias Kruger and Maggie Bender talk about the latest news in the tech world, Generative AI. How can this new tech change the way we create and consume content? Introducing the paradox of hope and despair, this episode brings innovative thoughts on this topic. Listen to it now on your favorite platform.
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In a previous blog, we introduced our first scenario for the AI Futures project. Here we present our second scenario, Planetary Regeneration, which envisions high geopolitical cooperation that rises to meet the challenge of climate change. This hopeful scenario is not without its painful chapters yet it illustrates a viable path to a flourishing future.
Also, please be sure to check out our AI 2045 Writing Contest. This will be one of the scenarios used for the stories.
Every crisis is an invitation for change. Death and destruction often come before renewal can begin. 2025, later known as the Year of Reckoning, rocks the planet to its core. Climate change chaos comes early with massive floods, droughts, deadly hurricanes, and Tsunamis. Furthermore, acidification of significant portions of the ocean causes massive extinction of marine life and serious disruption to coastal economies along with food shortage.
While all these things were happening more frequently, the intensity and relentlessness of 2025 were unheard of. Modern civilization had never experienced such instability before which may explain the unraveling that followed.
Climate chaos rocked the geopolitical system sending the world economy into a nosedive. Pervasive disruption in the supply chain sent food soaring. Fortune 500 companies collapsed overnight unable to come through with their commitments to debtors and employees. The financial system collapsed as millions orchestrate a sudden run-on-banks desperate for cash. Unemployment reaches 30% in major areas of the world. Most communities experience chaos and violence where the market is no longer able to regulate day-to-day transactions. Cities across Latin America become battle zones run by gangs and militias as governments are unable to pay for standing police forces.
Fragile regimes in Sub-Saharan Africa, the Middle East, and Central America descend into bloody civil wars. While middle-income and rich countries’ government hold, there are pockets of anarchy everywhere with a steep increase in crime and lawlessness. Scarcity of food, jobs, and basic services rekindle old wounds of inequality and racial strife. In collapsing economic systems, the battle between the haves and have-nots violently played out on the streets.
Economic armageddon and localized anarchy eventually leads to a nuclear confrontation between India and Pakistan. Decades-old grievances over the partition that happened nearly a century earlier combined with extreme drought exacerbated animosity in the region which quickly escalates into armed conflict. The world watches in horror as Karachi is decimated by an atomic bomb killing half of its population. Pakistan retaliates hitting Delhi with a powerful bomb that kills millions. Before things get worse a UN coalition led by US, China, Britain, and Russia descend on the region to ensure the war stops. A treaty is signed and an UN-led multinational army is stationed in the region to ensure peace is maintained.
Dall-e impressionist rendition of global cooperation
A Reeling world rally behind an UN-led coalition to rebuild the affected nations and ensure global cooperation and sustainability becomes paramount. In an unprecedented move, the UN general assembly votes for a 30 day global period of mourning to bury the dead from the war and natural disasters which later were reported to reach 100 million. A long period of mourning inaugurates 2026 when for a whole month, the world experiences a voluntary COVID-like stoppage.
Transportation is kept to a minimum along with the essential services. It is also a time of reflection where a global consensus emerges that the world politico-economic system must undergo sweeping change. A summit is called where all head-of-state converge in New York to draw out plans for a new economy to emerge. With the image of nuclear devastation fresh in their minds, humanity goes to work to re-imagine a new social order.
The global commons embarks on a 20-year plan to regenerate the planet. At the heart of the plan is a resolve to not let the 100 million fatalities of 2025 be in vain. In the depths of grief, humanity enters a liminal space and a global consciousness emerges permeating large swaths of the population. While some resist cooperation, a courageous remnant rallies around a cry for regeneration.
AI development is not immune to the year of reckoning. As part of the rebuilding of the social order, AI research undergoes a complete re-prioritization. In a 2026 global AI summit, industry leaders are joined by policymakers, clergy, and civic leaders to re-align AI priorities. At this gathering a global fund is established for research in 6 key areas 1) Green AI; 2) Finance AI; 3) AI Education; 4) AI Health; 5) Governance AI (explainable and anti-corruption) 6) General AI (project GAIA). Funded by corporations and world governments, grants are made available for research under the condition that the findings are shared widely and transparently. A ban is established on AI warfare. They also opt for a global tax on robotic automation to fund massive programs to re-tool displaced workers.
The human metanoia starts paying off as early as 2033. After 7 grueling years of rebuilding, re-directing, and reforming, a globally coordinated effort to move countries to a circular (doughnut economy) economy takes hold. Global warming halts at 1.5 while distributive economies start ensuring no one gets dropped from the donut bottom half. There is still inequality but the basic needs of food, housing, basic healthcare, and education are mostly addressed.
Dall-e rendition of beauty from ashes using Van Gogh’s style
Global cooperation becomes the norm and national allegiances are slowly replaced by regional commonwealths based more on biome similarities than political constructs. International zones are established around the main ports of entry to the West in the Mediterranean and the US southern border. Opportunity cities are erected to receive migrants coming North giving them enough support and preparation for either a migration to a new home or a return to their place of origin.
The Catholic church follows Pope Francis’ lead. Inspired by Laudato si, the church takes a decisive turn towards dialogue with other religions, a greater focus on earthcare and service to the poor. In a watershed event, women are allowed to be priests and in 2043, the first woman pope emerges. This reform is not without turmoil. Internal conservative factions threaten to break off and some dioceses keep to traditional ways in open defiance of Roman leadership. Jesuits and Dominicans turn more conservative as a counterweight to Franciscan dominance. On the ground, mass attendance and baptism decline globally with the exception of Sub-Saharan Africa and pockets in Asia. In the US and Europe, small study groups, inspired by the “comunidades de base” pop up all over providing needed liturgical innovation and a strengthened focus on environmental and equity activism. By 2045, they amount to a significant and growing minority whose influence spills way beyond its numbers.
In spite of effervescent renewal movements in the fringes, mainline attendance, and financial clout diminishes over time. Many churches, seminaries, and parachurch ministries that were dependent on the parish system collapsed as greying congregations do not rejuvenate. Buildings turn into libraries, museums, community centers, and businesses. The only exception is large urban cathedrals that are able to wade through the crisis. Sub-Saharan Africa also follows an outlier path, where congregations follow more native liturgy and seek to distance themselves from the dying institutions of the North.
After the year of reckoning, Evangelicals undergo a deep metanoia turning away from dispensational fears to an Isaiah 9-inspired call to care for the earth. Missions expand to include environmental work. While still holding to a traditional view of the Bible, influential pastors lead the way to the greening of evangelicalism. Pentecostals dive deeper into mysticism and more nature-friendly spiritual practices.
Sunday church attendance declines but weekly events bring new demographics into the fold as congregations experience deep transformation. Solar panels, workspaces, and community gardens become commonplace. Climate deniers become a minority of holdouts in rural and suburban pockets. Evangelicals embrace the switch to digital forms of gathering creating strong global networks to spread a more green-conscious gospel.
In spite of tremendous green progress in institutional Christianity, the fringes continue to grow steadily in this period as many decide that organized Christianity is no longer an option but Jesus is still “alright with them.” Without coalescing around any one movement, this growing group makes its presence known first in Europe and North America, eventually in Latin America, pockets of Asia, and urban areas of Sub-Saharan Africa. They grow along with the global middle class and pursue spiritual practices mediated primarily through digital means. These are also active in the metaverse where they experiment with VR/AR and AI-assisted faith practices. They are both reviled and admired by mainstream Christianity and mostly align with a greener faith focusing on the connection of all things.
In this podcast episode Elias Kruger and Maggie Bender continue their conversation about the future from the last episode taking a closer look into how we can imagine realistic futures by using key macrodrivers of change. The conversation also unpacks one of AI Theology’s latest projects. Listen to it on you favorite platform (links bellow).
To understand better this conversation, take a look at this scenario grid.
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January often puts us in a posture of reflection. New beginnings invite us to adjust, ponder and experiment. For example, per my wife’s wise encouragement, I started drinking 2 liters (64 ounces) of water a day. I also joined the local gym and started to work out 3 times a week. These two actions, and assuming I stick with them, will pay dividends for my health for years to come. I could have done it anytime before but for some reason, it took the coming of a season of reflection to jumpstart in the right direction.
Yet, this is not a post about making new year’s resolutions. It is instead an invitation to reflect on how we can show up to the conversation around Generative AI as its imminent disruption becomes more apparent. Stable diffusion, Chat-GPT, Lensa, and LaMDA filled the news with possibilities, fear, and confusion last year. While these technologies were fermenting for years, 2022 was a “coming out” of sorts when the world realized the potential behind generative AI.
Text, image, and sound generators are now available to the masses, opening avenues for multiform novelties. It has not been without controversy, resistance, and caution. A wave of backlash is mounting which is part of the process when a disruptive innovation emerges. Even so, the only certainty is that things won’t be the same.
These developments only make this work all the more important which leads us to the following question: what will it take to be AI theologians in a time of deep disruption? For those struggling to relate with an increasingly out-of-touch term like theology, let me phrase this dilemma in a different manner: how do we engage with these new AI technologies to ensure they build (not destroy) a flourishing future? If the underlying fear is that AI will redefine our humanity, what would it take to steer them toward a future we all want to live in?
For those new to the area, it is important you immerse yourself with accurate and helpful information about AI technologies. Reading two articles that sound an alarm based on an ill-thought-out worst-case scenario is not a replacement for understanding. Social Media and the Internet in general are chock-full of these. They often lead to misinformation, confusion, and in some cases despair.
A better approach is to expose yourself to a broad array of sources. The implications of any new technology are very hard to predict. They hinge on many factors such as economic cycles, evolving social norms, legislation, and speed of adoption. Furthermore, applications like generative AI will have the greatest impact through innovators that can capitalize on it for commercial ventures. Many of these will fail and few will rise to the top. Remember the dotcom revolution promised in the early ’00s? Only a few companies from that time are still in business.
The best you can do is to browse multiple sources on the matter and ponder their diverse informational signals. While this is a daunting task, you don’t have to do this alone. At our AI theology FB group we are constantly curating and discussing new developments on the AI front. This is a good place to start. There are also emails and publications you can sign up for. One that I would recommend which is free is TLDR which offers a daily sampling of top developments in the world of technology. In short, don’t form an opinion based on one alarmist article. Keep an open mind while patiently looking for diverse sources to see what emerges. The future is open.
In a time of fast change, one of the temptations is to disregard wisdom from the past. We get so immersed in our time that and over-estimate the uniqueness of our predicament. This kind of chronological pride will make us deaf to ancient voices of wisdom. While our challenges may feel immense, humanity has been around for a while the commonalities that bind us are more substantial than it is apparent.
For Christians reading this, that will mean returning to the Bible. Yet, that should not be the only source. I would encourage all of us to engage with the rich theological heritages. Among these, I recommend paying special attention to the contemplative tradition which is also known as Christian mysticism. Rigid dogma will not serve us well and unfortunately, Western Christianity is full of it.
I would also encourage expanding our horizons beyond Christian roots. It is time to draw from Eastern sources which include the great Asian faiths like Hinduism and Buddhism and also our Abrahamic brothers and sisters in the Muslim and Jewish faith. Ponder on Rumi’s poems, attend to the stories from the Vedas, and learn to meditate with Buddhist monks. Our global challenge calls for an extensive search for wisdom wherever we can find it.
Another temptation is to follow a knee-jerk reactive way of engagement – to wish that we could turn back the block of time to a period when this technology did not exist. Wedded to nostalgia, this can be fuel for powerful political movements such as the resurgence of right-wing nationalism. They can slow the tide of history, for a while. But ultimately, they are bound to fail.
A better strategy is to stand in the paradox of hope and despair. What does that mean? It is actually a spiritual practice in which you hold together all the potentialities and the risks of these new technologies in tension. You consider them equally, not trying to solve one or another but contemplating reality for what it is.
Can we hold in tension that this innovation will leave many without a job while also opening space for unprecedented art? Can we ponder that it will both democratize creative skills to the masses while also concentrating power and wealth on the few who control the platforms that offer it? Finally, would we consider the tension that while this new technology could empower many to leave poverty and help us address climate change, it will most likely be used for commercial uses that are non-essential?
Weigh different futures being offered with an open mind while also paying attention to the issues that arise as you learn about Generative AI. It goes without saying, that this process can be emotionally draining. That is why I also urge you to attend to self-care in the process. Look for life-giving spiritual practices that will ground you in what is good and beautiful. Stop, listen and rest. While these are timeless practices they are becoming all the more essential to anyone hoping to keep their sanity in a world of dizzying contradictions.
The ultimate question is: what will we do about it? Some are called to engage in the legislative process in order to protect those who will be harmed by these new technologies. Others will engage in the hard work of building new ecosystems that harness the power of these technologies for the flourishing of life. Others will solve intractable business problems leveraging the power of Generative AI.
I want to call out to a task that may be less obvious but is becoming all the more important: activist imagination. That is, we use imagination as a way to encourage others to act. It is meant to be transformative and paradigm-shifting not simply an experience to be consumed but an activity to enliven citizens.
In a situation where the possibilities are legion, anticipation starts with imagination. It is futile to try to predict how these technologies will transform the world. Yet, imagining multiple possibilities can better prepare us to face what will come next. Can we prepare this generation for what’s coming? A place to start is painting vivid pictures of what could be.
Predicting is a form of control but imagining is an invitation to ponder. The prophetic task of our time is to imagine possibilities (both good and bad) and invite our listeners to consider the impact of their actions in the present. Like the Hebrew prophets, we call out for people to repent, change their minds and go a different way. This is not limited to “scorched earth disaster” scenarios but also to pictures of hope that can inspire positive change
Like present-day prophets, we sit in the paradox of hope and despair and invite our audiences to choose life today so we can all have a future tomorrow.
20 years ago the life was very different from today. Can we predict the future by thinking about the past? Join Elias and Maggie in a conversation about how the past can help us envision the future. Listen now to the 6th episode of the AI Theology Podcast.
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In the last few months, we have been busy working on a book project to describe plausible futures in the intersection of AI and faith. After some extensive brainstorming, the scenarios are finally starting to come alive (need a refresher on the project click here). After selecting our macro drivers, we have settled on the foundations for our 4 scenarios that form the backdrop for the stories to be written. Here is what they look like:
Each quadrant represents the combination of drivers that undergirds that scenario. For example, in the Q1 scenario, we have National (divided geopolitical system) Green (lower climate change impact). In short, this represents a future where the effects of climate change are delayed or lower than expected but where cooperation among nations is worse than it is today. How can such a combination even be possible?
Now that the parameters are set, the fun part of describing the scenarios can start. In this exercise, we try to imagine a future that fits within these parameters. For Q1, we imagine the global order deteriorating as nations turn inward. On the climate change side, we see a better or delayed outcome even if that seems counter-intuitive. How can a divided world somehow escape the worse of climate change? These difficult questions create the tensions from which creativity can flow.
What does that look like? Before a full description of the National Green scenario, let’s kick it off with a poem that evokes the feeling of this world.
Repent Before it’s Too Late
A world that hesitates
like a wave in the acidifying sea
Tossed by unharnessed winds
Shifting from action to inactionDivision cuts deep
Why can’t we come together?
The arguing continues
Polar caps whiterBuild up, tear down
Hot summers linger
“Each to its own” rules the day
Parochial thinking
Global shrinkingAI advances by competition
Slowed by economic stagnation
Focusing on security and independence
It scarcely brings real transformationNational colors of allegiance
Taint Green Xianity
into a shade of brown
of scattered complacencyWedded to their turfs
the church keeps Christ divided
Petty speculations
Keep clergy from coordinationHumanity stands at the valley of decision
Will it choose life
Or deadly, slow oblivion?
Gradual change can come too little too late. This scenario is based mostly on a continuation of the present. The 20s decade witnessed gradual climate decay with growing local and regional challenges. The geopolitical order drags along as US and China become major poles of influence, followed by the EU. Polarization within countries increases as political regimes oscillate between democracy and authoritarianism. This vacillation in direction stifles international coordination on climate leading to increased regionalization. In 2028, the Paris agreement collapses yearly climate conferences stop as the US, China, India, and Russia pull out from conversations.
By 2030, climate change is undeniable, but the lack of international cooperation on how to address it leads to scattered and uncoordinated efforts. Powerful nations think in terms of “energy independence” which ensures that fossil fuels remain an option for many even if they do not play the same role as in the past century. Mother nature seems patient with humanity, giving gentle reminders for them to mend their ways in the way of increased floods, droughts, and the melting of the ice caps. Yet, the gradual impact is scarcely enough to jolt humanity out of its enchanted oblivion. Affected areas in the developing world lack the clout and the resources to catch the world’s attention. The overall sense is that if we could just figure out how to work together, maybe we could avoid the worse.
As the 2040’s begin, a growing portion of the population no longer believes in stopping climate change. The hope now is simply to stem and adapt to the gradual but decisively transforming effect of a warming planet. In 2045, as the temperature rises by 2-degree celsius, well beyond UN goals, humanity hits a decision point. It must repent before it is too late. Yet, can it come together as a unified front? Can humanity heed nature’s call to repentance or will they be betrayed by half-measures that can no longer prevent the worse? Will it turn a corner or slowly descend into a Malthusian trap?
Nationalism leads to competition rather than cooperation. Tech development accelerates due to a tech “arms race” as nations strive for energy independence and the superiority of AI, supercomputers, weapons, and communications. While generalized war is absent in this period, there is a growing build-up of arms. This overall climate of mistrust guides and hamstrings national investments in tech. Tech dev + adoption is characterized more by competition and parallel acceleration than by shared research or resources. Cybersecurity becomes more of an emphasis here than in other scenarios.
AI adoption and development are uneven as international cooperation wanes. For example, AI justice slows downs as interests in this area are overshadowed by security concerns. Digital assistants take hold but increasingly become an artifact for developed nations with little use to the global south. Deepfakes and text generation develop more towards political propaganda within regions. The Metaverse mirrors the trend toward nationalism becoming more regionalized rather than the global commons it promised to be. AI/VR advances here take hold in the western versions of the metaverse and make some progress in China. The rest of the world is mostly cut off from it. Green AI advances within the confines of research institutions and government-funded labs in western nations. The benefits don’t trickle down to the global south.
Christianity mirrors many realities of this divided world. The Catholic church becomes more traditionalist and more distributed, therefore less tied to Rome. Even so, the Vatican emerges as a haven for cooperation in a regionalizing world. A string of progressive popes speaks up for the environment following Pope Francis’s lead. Yet, strong conservative factions, more in line with Pope Benedict, hold increasing power both in the West and in the global south. Green consciousness is present but not a forefront preoccupation for traditionalists that remain caught up in theological and liturgical debates.
Mainline Protestants doubled down on green aspects of Christianity but without the evangelistic component. The focus is more on education than pushing Christian people to action. Their influence wane as their decline in the West continues. They are also unable to gain a foothold in the global south being no match for evangelicals who by now are well-established even as their growth slows down.
Evangelical Christianity in the US takes up the green consciousness, wedded to a national push for energy independence. Good eco-theology comes in through the back door, so to speak, marshaled to support US national interests. Overall green consciousness in culture is embraced and evangelicals attempt to use this as an evangelism tool–“look how Christianity does such a good job of advocating for a green, sustainable world”. Emphasis on positive comparison between Christianity and other religions in this regard: “Christians are more green than Muslims, Hindus, etc.” captures a bit of the mindset. While greener, they remain militant and disinterested in interfaith dialogue. Missionary networks endure even in a more divided world but the focus continues on personal salvation, with a bit of green consciousness on the side.
Christian roots of green consciousness find independent expression, less tied to mainline church or institutional Christianity. Organizations like CTA, Biologos, EACH, and others grow, but become more secularly focused and theologically diffuse as a result. They fail to coalesce around common causes and weakened global cooperation ensuring its impact is also limited and only a shadow of its potential. While emerging as a viable alternative to organized Xianity, its lack of cohesion translates into multifold affinity groups that coalesce around narrow missions rather than a movement with a broad vision for transformation.
I often write on the intersection between technology and theology. Yet, sometimes, I veer off this framework when I believe there is some important that needs to be said. I do this sparingly because I want to honor the focus of this portal. It also saves me from being all over the place with my writing (which I have a tendency to do as my reading and interests are pretty broad).
Without further ado, let me jump right to it. In this piece, I argue the following:
Creation care is woefully inadequate for addressing the current global existential crisis we face with climate. What we need is a complete overhaul of our relationship with nature, one that can only come if we are willing to listen to other religious traditions.
There are a number of reasons why that is the case but the main one is that creation care fails to re-connect us with nature. It also fails to challenge the glaring millennial-old blind spot of anthropocentrism, embedded in Christian theology from the very beginning. In short, if we are serious about meeting this climate challenge, we must put humanity back in its place: right in the middle of nature.
What else could be said about this topic? Yet, allow me to frame this one more time. Firstly, if you are not convinced humans are affecting climate, well, I have no time to prove that to you. Go look up the science and then draw your own conclusions. Secondly, for those of you anxious about this topic, take solace: every crisis is an opportunity. Yes, the crisis is real and yes, we caused it. This is, however, no reason to despair and give up. Instead, it is an opportunity to embrace as an invitation (albeit with serious consequences if we reject it) to change our relationship with this planet.
The problem is not in the Bible per se but in the Christian anthropology that developed afterward. The Genesis creation story may lend itself to ideas of appropriation and abuse, however, the central problem lies elsewhere. I am talking about Imago Dei, the Latin term for the idea that we are God’s mirror image. Why is that a problem? By trying to elevate humans to the pinnacle of Creation, just slightly below God and angels, theologians set us on that (sorry for the cliche) dreaded slippery slope of human worship. More specifically, we fell prey to the sin of anthropocentrism. Our current age, calls for a re-definition if not a full abandonment of this concept.
We have been so obsessed with putting God in God’s place that we became blind to our unacceptable disdain for other living beings. If there is such a thing as white and Christian supremacy, then well, there is also human supremacy that goes unnoticed. This climate change is a real opportunity for us to step down from our human-centric altar so we may worship God on the dusty ground, right along with all nature.
The concept of Creation care is not very old. Most likely started being circulated in the late 80s as some Christians finally started catching up to what environmentalists were already saying. It was a way to tie theology with environmental concern. While well-intentioned and much needed, the move towards creation care falls short in many accounts.
First, it leaves the ghost of Image Dei undisturbed and unchallenged. If at first, Creation care indicts us as the villain, it also elevates us as the heroes – the caretakers that will reverse the climate crisis. The onus stays on the human and creation is still nothing more than a piece of property that must be cared for.
Second, it does little to reconnect us with nature. This is probably the biggest problem of our current crisis. In a technological age, we have grown irreversibly disconnected from nature, and in turn from our humanness. People out of nature are, well, less human. This disconnection is also what makes behavioral change so difficult. We simply are not feeling directly the impact we are making in the biosphere. That is, in big part, because when you live your life in climatized indoor places nature becomes as alien as it can be.
If Creation Care is not the path, where do we go from here? Well, a good starting point is Genesis 2:7, reminding us that we came from dust. That is, we are part of the Earth, not an alien being that descended on it. We are not caretakers, but earth itself and connected to all beings on this planet. We are an extension of it. Before appointing ourselves responsibilities, we must first recognize our earthiness.
That’s a start but not enough to repair the damage of centuries of misguided theology. Unfortunately, the path of repentance must lead us out and beyond Christian tradition. It starts by humbly recognizing that while our tradition bears witness to our connectedness to the earth, it has made it mostly an afterthought. We must look for those that have better emphasized this reality in their belief and practice. Traditions that preceded and survived the contamination of Modernity and its nature-severing effects. Traditions that Christendom has also violently tried to suppress.
Once we open up to learn from other traditions, the possibilities are multifold. One of them is to sit at the sweat lodge and learn from the First Nations of the Americas. The very people displaced by our arrival on this continent may very well offer the wisdom needed to guide us back to the God of nature. Not through romanticization or appropriation, we should humbly sit in their circles silently with an attentive ear. Only then may we have a chance to hear the whisper of God calling us back to nature over the deafening sounds of modern technology.
Learning from First Nations’ religion is only one of the many paths to move beyond creation care. The good news is that there are many options here. Yet all of them require a significant shift in theology where special revelation is no longer the exclusive property of the Judeo-Christian tradition. It requires a recognition that the Bible or the traditions emanating from it alone may not be enough to save us from ourselves. It calls for an openness to respectfully incorporate concepts from other religions.
Are we up to the challenge? I certainly hope so and our planet prays it so.
The previous blog dealt with macro-trends. They help frame the future by establishing parameters that undergird the external common factors that all humanity must face. Now it is time to zoom in a little closer to our topic. Our task is to paint futures of the intersection between AI and faith. In this blog, we are looking at the faith side of the equation and primarily focusing on the future of Christianity.
With that said, much of what is said here could apply to other religions and even non-religious beliefs. In fact, with the rise of the nones, the latter may very well become a viable option for millions. In fact, one could see the rise of secular movements around human rights and social justice as an offshoot of progressive Christianity, albeit with severed ties to religion. That is, in projecting a future of Christianity, we may be touching on the future of spirituality that has transcends religion.
I would like to recognize the Global Christian History community for some help on this section. They pointed me to a wealth of resources that help us understand the development of Global Christianity while also pointing to some possible futures. They are also a great group for those interested in learning more about Global Christianity.
First, it is important to attend to statistics on the topic. While there are disagreements on the degree and speed of change, it is clear that the center of Christianity is moving away from Europe and North America towards the global South – Africa, Latin America, and Asia. In an interesting twist, the lands once evangelized by the North are now the ones leading growth and missionary efforts.
There is disagreement, however, around whether Christian growth will keep Muslim growth in check or whether the latter will overtake it to become the largest religious group in the world. A Pew Research 2015 report points to a Muslim majority future in 2015 while Gordon-Conwell Center of Global Christianity points to a 2050 where Christianity retains majority status. Regardless of who is right, Christianity’s relationship with Islam will continue to be a defining factor in Africa, South Asia (excluding India), and the Middle East. It will also play an important role in Europe which is slated to be 10-15% Muslim in the coming decades.
The African continent will continue to be an engine for growth and vitality for Christianity. A growing population and nascent movements will ensure a continuous spread of religious practice and fervor throughout the continent will ensure that one in 3 Christians globally will be there in 2045. Even more interesting though is how African Christianity will look like. Current trends show a tilt towards indigenous movements which are giving Christian practice a true African flavor.
I also wonder about its impact in the West as migrant patterns continue to bring in millions of African Christians to Europe and North America. Immigrant churches will play a pivotal role in connecting the vibrant Christian south with a post-Christian Western societies. Furthermore, the African presence is already shaping the Anglican communion as the recent boycotts of Lambeth 2022 show.
The story in Asia is mixed with growing representation in countries like South Korea (Protestant) and the Philipines (Catholic). The biggest question mark is the future of Christianity in China. Will we see the continuation of a dual system of official and underground churches or will the government allow the latter to come out of the shadows? Either way, Christianity will continue to be an influential social force in this global power.
The American continent(s) will likely follow diverging paths. North America’s decline in Christian religious identification is likely to continue if not even accelerate. There is some uncertainty here. Consider that in 2015, Pew Research predicted that 66% of people in the US would identify as Christians in 2050. A more recent 2021 PRRI estimate shows it at 69% in 2020! Certainly differences in methodology and margin of error. With that said, it is not unreasonable to assume that religious identification with Christianity is on an accelerated decline.
With that said, Christianity will continue to be a significant religious and political force in the United States for decades to come. However, the uncertainty is around whether the US will look more like Canada (55% Christian) or the American South (76% Christian). The deciding factor here will be more on the non-White minorities which by then will comprise the majority of the population.
As we look south of the Rio Grande, the factors are less about Christianity in general but the shift from Catholic to Protestant Christianity. In Brazil, for example, Protestants (Evangelicals) will likely surpass Catholics by the early 2030’s to become the largest religious group in the nation. That is a significant shift in the region that boasted a Catholic identity for nearly 500 years. It has significant political and social ramifications that we are yet to fully comprehend. For now, it suffices to say that evangelical support for Bolsonaro was decisive in the 2018 presidential election.
Above all, the rise of nones globally will be a defining factor for not just Christian identity but the nature of Christian worship (liturgy). A strong current against established religious organizations will give way to new expressions of the faith. The ubiquity of technology and its potent ability to establish connections independent of geography can foster innovation. That is, maybe the most interesting trends in Christianity will be less about numeric adherence and more about the transformation of faith practices. This movement represents a shift away from local congregations to a global spirituality that is shared in small groups mediated through telepresence technologies.
What will that look like? I recently attended a webinar that may spell a path for things to come. It was hosted by the New Wine Collective, an emerging group promising to re-think church. While more details are forthcoming, this looks like an app-enabled way of building face-to-face Christian community. This is not simply a “Facebook church” but more of a way to use technology to enable offline gatherings. Could we call this a personalized church model? Only time will tell. I am very curious to see where this goes.
One thing is certain, the future of Christianity will be more entangled with the development of emerging technologies in the decades to come. We have yet to conceive of metaverse-enabled liturgies. Could 5 G-enabled liturgies where a priest handles the sacrament remotely count as in-person mass? Don’t get me wrong – traditional church buildings will still exist for a long time. They will just be less essential for the life of faith.
In my previous blog, I discussed the totalitarianism and determinism already created by today’s AI, concluding my argument with a distinction between a positive and a negative theology of AI. I also made, without any elaboration, an appeal for the latter. The terminology of this distinction may lead to some confusion. The name “artificial intelligence” is usually applied to computer-based, state-of-the-art algorithms that display behavior or skills of which it has formerly been thought only human beings are capable. Notwithstanding, an AI algorithm, and especially the whole array of AI algorithms that are active online, may exhibit behavior or create an environment whose qualities go beyond the level or capacity of the human mind and, even more than that, appear to be “God-like” or are treated so.
Here enters theological reflection with two of its forms: positive and negative theology, of which the second is less common and more sophisticated than the first. Positive theology describes and discusses God by means of names and positive statements like – to give a few simple examples – “God is spirit”, “God is Lord”, “God is love”, and so on. But, according to negative theology, it is equally true that, by reason of God’s radical otherness and difference from anything in the created world, God can only be spoken of through negative statements: “God is not” or “is unlike” a “spirit” or a “lord” or “love”. Accordingly, these two distinct ways of approaching God can translate into the two following statements: “God is AI” or “God is not AI.”
Scandalous as it may seem, a positive theology of AI is hardly avoidable, and its subject should be less the miraculous accomplishments of future AI and all the hopes attached to it than the everyday online spectacles of the present. True, the worship of today’s AI scarcely pours out into a profession of its divinity in the manner of the Apostle Thomas when confronted with the risen Christ (“My Lord and my God!” John 20:28), but spending with it the most beatific hours of the day including the first and last waking moments (before going to pee in the morning and after doing so in the evening) certainly qualifies as a life of prayer.
In a sense, the worship of AI does more than prayer to the Christian God could ever do in this life as AI provides light and nurture in seamless services tailored to every user’s interests, quirks, and wishes. Indeed, it casts a spell of bedazzlement on you in powerful alliance with the glamour, sleekness, and even sexiness of design. So it comes to pass that you end up in a city whose sky is created by AI, or, rather, whose sky is AI itself – a sky where your highest aspirations turn to. Could this city and sky possibly be those prophesied by John the Seer in the Apocalypse? “And the city had no need of the sun, neither of the moon, to shine in it: for the glory of God did lighten it…” (Revelations 21:23).
But, let’s suppose, there arises an urge in you to resist the city and sky of AI, recognizing that they are not God’s city and God’s sky, that AI is not God, and God is unlike AI – in other words, you negate AI as God. Of course, this is more than an act of logic and goes beyond the scope of a theoretical decision. The moment you realize you have treated AI as God, and you have been wrong, you change your attitude and orientation, and start searching for God elsewhere, outside the realm of AI.
You repent.
This metanoia of sorts leads you to trade your smartphone for nature, opting to live under the real sky. There, you experience real love and friendship outside social media platforms. You may even discard Google Maps and seek to get lost in real cities and find your bearings with the help of old paper maps.
Such actions, however, are not the best negative theology of AI. Do they not exhibit a nostalgia for the past, growing wistful about the sky, the love, the city, and the God of old? Is God nostalgic? Would God set up God’s tent outside the city of AI into which the whole of creation is moving? Have you, searching for God outside the realm of AI, not engaged in an unserious, even dull form of negation?
There must be another way.
In fact, the divine realm empowered by AI carries in itself its own theological negation, moments when its bedazzlement loosens its grip and its divine face undergoes an eclipse – moments that are empty, dull, boring, meaningless, or even full of frustration or anxiety. Such moments are specific to this realm and not just the usual downside of human life. It was, if you are willing to realize, the proliferation of such moments that have made you repudiate the divinity of AI and go searching outside its realm, and not just a sudden thought that occurred to you.
As a matter of fact, it was not only you; such moments in the midst of all the bedazzlement, now and then, happen to all devotees. Does the ubiquitousness of such moments mean that all citizens of the city of AI participate in its theological self-negation, and, therefore, living in it necessarily includes the act of negating it? In a sense, yes but this is just a ubiquitous and unintended, almost automatic negation, and not the right one. As a rule, the citizens of the city live in the moment and for the moment; they naively live its bedazzlement to the full and suffer its moments of meaninglessness to the full. In doing so, however, they are unfree.
Instead, you are better off living in the city of AI accompanied by a moderate and reserved, yet constant negation. In this balanced and overall experience, you always keep the harrowing moments of emptiness and meaninglessness in mind with a view to them no longer quite coming to harrow you and, above all, with a view to AI’s bedazzlement no longer gaining the upper hand.
As a consequence of your moderate and sustained negation of AI as God (a negative theology of AI), you create a certain distance between you and AI which is nevertheless also a space of curiosity and playfulness. Precisely because you negate it in a theological sense, you can curiously turn towards AI, witness the details of its behavior and also enjoy its responsiveness to your actions. And it is precisely in this dynamic and undecided area of free play with AI, opened up by your negation, that God, defined as to what God is not (not AI) and undefined as to what God is, can be offered a space to enter.
Gábor L. Ambrus holds a post-doctoral research position in the Theology and Contemporary Culture Research Group at The Charles University, Prague. He is also a part-time research fellow at the Pontifical University of St. Thomas Aquinas, Rome. He is currently working on a book on theology, social media, and information technology. His research primarily aims at a dialogue between the Judaeo-Christian tradition and contemporary techno-scientific civilization.
In this article, I’m going to use the idea of image-bearing and social synecdoche to help us discuss the relationship between AI, theology and egalitarian governance. The first article here provides background for this discussion.
In the Ancient Near East, to say that someone was the image of a god was to say that they had a governance function, as priest or king. At the core of the priestly function is mediation between divine and human realms, as a part who represents the whole group. The priest manifests social synecdoche before the divine. In a Christian context, we also understand a priest as a mediator between the group and the divine Word or Logos, the ordering principle that brings rational coherence to Creation.
In this network of ideas, we can hold together the experiences of scientific learning and true communication, along with the experience of human agency in governance. After all, scientists stand-in for all of us as mediators of the Word spoken in Creation, within their area of specialization. They bring back to the group what they have been shown: realities that they don’t invent, but which their reconciling work helps us all access. Similarly, political representatives stand-in for the group as their representative agent, embodying its decision-making capacity. Both scientific and governing roles properly involve experiences of meditation through social synecdoche. Both roles involve a priestly element.
Now let’s focus our attention on the experience of mediation. What does it feel like when you represent a group, bridging the gap between us and a powerful reality beyond us? Along with inevitable frustrations, we might also experience the joy of discovery, the delight of shared understanding, and the satisfaction of reaching an agreement that is good for us all. The instrumental goods that come from this kind of mediation are substantial. But beyond this, the shared experience itself is of profound value. Priestly image-bearing isn’t just about what is achieved externally through representative mediation. It necessarily involves the human experience of that process.
To say that humans bear the image of God is to say that we all have a special vocation to foster experiences of mediation, within various domains at various scales. If humans really are image-bears of God, that means the experience of bringing a greater wholeness into being is an irreducible aspect of what we are for. Whether it is in our garden, our home, our workplace, or in some larger domain of responsibility, this is the miracle that we all are.
Imagine science or politics proceeding without authentic experiences of mediation. Maybe we can build a zombie world where research and agreement seem to be happening, but where the AI agents conducting this work have no experience, and so no appreciation of the syntheses achieved. Or we might have an authoritarian politics in which people are threatened (or blindly herded by algorithms) into group conformity, but they are out of conformity with any kind of larger reality. Both scenarios, I hope, sound profoundly and transparently dystopian. Against these possibilities, I would encourage us to envision a society (even an AI-human society) that focuses on fostering the universal priestly function of humanity. It would be a spiritually egalitarian and deeply discursive society.
In appealing to spiritual egalitarianism, we can advocate for the kind of elevating egalitarianism I have described above. However, egalitarianism can easily collapse into a universal denigration, rather than elevation, of image-bearers. Although laudably egalitarian, this other approach can reproduce patterns of domination and abuse, when a liberatory elevation is more important than ever. At the core of this issue are different ways of appropriating Franciscan spirituality.
Consider: Pope Francis styled himself after Brother Francis of Assisi. Far more than a whim, this is a powerful and enduring signal of his egalitarian vision for the church. But there is a radical tension here. The Pope has long been styled as the Pontifex Maximus, an office inherited from Roman high priests and then Emperor-priests. During the life of Jesus, this office was held by Emperor Tiberius. A common meaning associated with “pontifex” (both then and now) is “bridge builder.” The term reflects the mediating role of the priest.
The irony of a Pope taking the name Francis is extremely sharp: Saint Francis of Assisi rather pointedly never became an official priest. He remained Brother Francis, never Father Francis. What does it really mean for the Pontifex Maximus, the Father of Fathers and the Head of the College of Cardinals, to style himself after Brother Francis? It might be a gesture toward general elevation. But it also might indicate a denigrating abdication of responsibility. What, exactly, is happening in this moment of clerical anti-clericalism?
Pope Francis genuinely reflects a Franciscan vocation in many ways. For example, he has recently made some important post-clerical accommodations in the church, allowing non-priests to lead Catholic orders. Fittingly, Franciscans like Daniel Horan, OFM, have celebrated this decision as an anti-clerical victory.
However, this particular form of egalitarianism can easily foster unaccountability and authoritarian populism. Consider: the primary opponent of Pope Francis for the hearts and minds of Catholics in the US today is the EWTN media network. Slate’s history of the network describes the development of this lay-led media empire as it has become the Catholic Fox News.
The Pope does not approve of EWTN. He has even referred to it as “the work of the devil,” as Slate documents. But can he exorcise EWTN? No. The network, founded by a Franciscan nun, is led by the laity. That makes it relatively unaccountable to anyone but its funders. Institutionally, the Catholic Church doesn’t have a comparable media network, so it can’t interact discursively at relevant social scale. The Pope is left to inveigh ineffectively against its aggressive authoritarian populism, because it mediates the Pope to US Catholics.
So lay leadership is already being tried. EWTN’s broadcasters are the lay media priests that Pope Francis is not. It hasn’t yielded the discursively democratic fruit we might hope it would.
We can easily imagine AI leadership that simply amplifies these problems. What if EWTN next pursues the attention-harvesting of the Youtube algorithm, but on steroids? It could govern us by creating even more intense propaganda rabbit holes. Humans would be even further divorced from their shared vocation as true mediators, because of the absence of truth criteria that connect the project to a broader Creational and social whole. Instead, they would become objects in an increasingly sophisticated epistemic capture system.
What can we do? To start, we should clarify what is of first importance in this brave new world. A primary goal of society at all scales must be to honor the universal priestly vocation of humans, as image-bearers. We need to embrace our callings to represent bodies at different times and in different contexts. That includes our own physical bodies, as well as layered networks of group agents at all social scales. Representation matters. This is true in media, but it pertains even more to the many groups we belong to.
The egalitarianism of Pope Francis is to be commended, but it is flawed. We don’t need to remove priests from governance. Instead, we need to help all people discern and accountably live out their priestly roles, as mediators and representatives. It isn’t that we should let brothers govern Fathers, but that we must see all the ways that we already govern each other as sibling priests, as experiencing mediators.
Fortunately, we have a precedent for this in Christian tradition. Catholic and otherwise, we all view Jesus as our high priest. But even He didn’t call Himself Father. Rather, he fulfills his priestly function as our equal, as our sibling, and as the Son. Matthew 23:9 specifically articulates this egalitarian vision of priesthood when Jesus warns, in an especially dire passage of Scripture:
“And call no one your father on earth, for you have one Father, the one in heaven.”
Here at the dawn of AI governance, we urgently need to hear and heed our brother and high priest.
Daniel Heck is a Pastor at Central Vineyard Church in Columbus, OH. His work focuses on immigrant and refugee support, spiritual direction, and training people of all ages how to follow the teachings of Jesus. He is the author of According to Folly, founder of Tattered Books, and writes regularly on Medium: https://medium.com/@danheck
