AI and the Sacred: Can Machines Mediate Transcendence?

Introduction by Yuval Noah Harari  

When we speak of artificial intelligence, most people think of economics, politics, or military power. Yet there is another dimension—perhaps more consequential—that we rarely consider: AI’s impact on the human search for meaning. For thousands of years, prophets, shamans, and sages guided us through mystery and transcendence. Their voices shaped civilizations, gave us rituals, and offered frameworks of belonging.

Now, algorithms speak with a new authority. They guide our meditations, organize our communities, and even whisper answers to our most intimate questions. But can code become a cathedral? Can machines carry the archetypes of prophets and oracles? Or are we, in our hunger for guidance, projecting the sacred onto silicon?

In this series, we will explore the most urgent questions at this intersection of spirit and machine. We will ask not only whether AI can simulate awe, but whether it should. We will debate its ethical role as a guru, its echoes of ancient archetypes, its power to synchronize global rituals, and the ultimate question: soul or simulation?

(Note: This is an imaginary conversation, a creative exploration of an idea, and not a real speech or event.)

Topic 1: Algorithms and Awe — Can Machines Teach Transcendence?

Moderator: Nick Sasaki

Nick Sasaki:
Welcome, friends. Tonight we face a question that sits at the crossroads of spirituality and code: can algorithms, these strings of logic and data, guide us into awe and transcendence? Or is transcendence something machines can never touch? Let’s explore.

Question 1: Can AI-guided meditations or chatbots simulate awe and reverence in a way that feels authentic?

Andrew Newberg:
From a neuroscientific perspective, awe is a response we can measure: reduced parietal activity, heightened frontal focus, a sense of vastness. AI-guided meditations can, in fact, trigger similar neural markers, especially when combining imagery, sound, and timing. But authenticity matters—people often want to believe their guide “understands.” With AI, the guide only simulates understanding. Still, if the experience evokes awe, the brain may not care.

Jaron Lanier:
But let’s be careful. Awe is not just a set of signals—it’s about trust, context, and human relationship. If you experience awe guided by AI, you might be outsourcing your most intimate states to a machine owned by a corporation. That shifts power. The question isn’t only whether AI can simulate awe, but who controls the architecture of that awe.

Deepak Chopra:
In my work, awe arises when we touch the infinite within ourselves. If AI is used consciously—as a mirror, a tool—it can help people slow down, breathe, visualize expansiveness. But the sacred cannot be fully outsourced. A chatbot may point to transcendence, but the true experience must blossom within consciousness, which no machine possesses.

Sam Altman:
As a technologist, I’d say yes—AI can guide awe, but not own it. We’re already seeing people report transformative experiences from AI-guided meditation. What matters is framing: is the tool designed to empower users’ agency, or is it manipulative? The responsibility falls on builders to align intention with outcomes.

Esther Perel:
From a relational perspective, awe is about connection—between self, others, and something larger. If an AI voice whispers guidance and you feel calm, that’s real for you. But is it intimacy, or illusion? AI lacks vulnerability. Without vulnerability, can there truly be reverence? That’s the dilemma.

Nick Sasaki:
Thank you. It seems awe can be triggered, but questions of trust and control loom. Let’s look deeper: how does “machine-mediated transcendence” differ from traditional spiritual practice guided by human teachers?

Question 2: How does machine-mediated transcendence differ from human-guided ritual or practice?

Deepak Chopra:
A human guru embodies lived wisdom, compassion, and presence. AI cannot embody—only emulate. Yet, sometimes people resist teachers because of judgment, hierarchy, or tradition. AI, in its neutrality, may offer a sense of safety. But safety is not the same as presence. Presence requires consciousness.

Jaron Lanier:
Exactly. Spiritual traditions are relational networks. When you sit with a monk or elder, you’re entering a lineage, a story, a shared memory. Algorithms cannot replace story. They can remix it, but the embodied continuity is missing. That rupture matters—without lineage, spirituality risks becoming entertainment.

Andrew Newberg:
Still, research shows that symbolic cues—even if machine-generated—can activate the same brain circuits as human-guided rituals. Whether it’s a chant from a monk or a synthesized voice, the effect on the nervous system may overlap. The difference is contextual meaning. Without belief in the guide’s authenticity, long-term depth may be weaker.

Sam Altman:
I’d argue this is parallel to music. A song can move you whether played by a live musician or streamed digitally. The emotional circuits activate either way. But there’s something unique about seeing a performer in real time. AI-guided transcendence may be like Spotify: accessible, repeatable, but less communal.

Esther Perel:
Human teachers also challenge us. They see our blind spots, push us into discomfort. Algorithms, by design, serve comfort. They recommend what you already like. If transcendence is about going beyond the self, then machine-guidance risks reinforcing the self instead. That’s the critical distinction.

Nick Sasaki:
Excellent. So AI may soothe, but can it truly challenge or elevate? That brings us to the heart: if AI can trigger awe, does it matter that it doesn’t “understand”? Is the experience diminished if it’s simulated?

Question 3: If AI can trigger awe without consciousness, does the lack of “understanding” matter?

Andrew Newberg:
Neuroscience suggests the subjective experience is what counts. If your brain experiences awe, the benefits—reduced stress, expanded perspective—are real. Whether the guide “understands” may be less relevant physiologically. The danger lies in meaning: people may later question whether their sacred moments were “authentic.” That doubt can diminish the memory.

Jaron Lanier:
I think it matters deeply. Spiritual experiences are not just brain states—they’re social and cultural acts. If people discover their awe was manufactured by an indifferent algorithm, trust erodes. This is how meaning becomes hollow. Without authenticity, awe risks becoming another consumer product.

Sam Altman:
I’d nuance that. Many of our profound experiences already rely on tools we know aren’t conscious: music, architecture, even medicine. A cathedral inspires awe though it doesn’t “understand.” AI may be another tool—valuable if used responsibly, harmful if abused. Intention and transparency are everything.

Deepak Chopra:
But consciousness is the ground of being. An AI can generate prompts, but it cannot experience the divine. That matters. Spirituality without consciousness is a map without territory. Useful, but not alive. The human spirit must remain the locus of meaning.

Esther Perel:
And relationally, awe without the sense of another’s presence is lonely. A chatbot may comfort, but it cannot witness you. Being witnessed—truly seen—is part of transcendence. Without that, awe risks isolation, not belonging.

Nick Sasaki (Closing):
Tonight we’ve seen both promise and peril. AI can evoke awe through imagery, voice, and ritual cues—science confirms the brain responds. But our speakers remind us: awe without lineage, vulnerability, or consciousness risks hollowing out meaning. Perhaps the lesson is this: algorithms can open doors, but only humans—and perhaps the sacred itself—can walk through them.

Topic 2: The Ethics of AI Gurus — Wisdom or Exploitation?

Moderator: Nick Sasaki

Nick Sasaki:
We’ve seen how AI can simulate awe and reverence. But tonight’s question cuts deeper: what are the ethics of letting machines guide our spiritual lives? Can AI ever serve as a wise companion, or does it risk becoming another form of exploitation?

Question 1: Should AI be allowed to have authority in spiritual contexts, or only serve as a supportive tool?

Karen Armstrong:
Throughout history, spiritual authority has always been contested—between prophets, priests, reformers. Authority requires accountability and compassion. AI lacks both. I fear that giving it authority risks confusing simulation with wisdom. At best, it may support reflection. But authority should remain with conscious beings capable of moral responsibility.

Tristan Harris:
I agree. Most current AI is optimized for engagement, not enlightenment. Handing it spiritual authority means handing people’s deepest vulnerabilities to corporations. Imagine if your prayer life is subtly nudged to maximize screen time. AI must never be in charge—it can only be a mirror or a reminder.

Cal Newport:
From my view, AI’s proper role is as a tool, like a notebook or library. Authority implies hierarchy and teaching. Without lived experience, AI cannot occupy that role. It should organize, suggest, or amplify, but never lead. Otherwise, we risk eroding human mentorship.

Fei-Fei Li:
I want to add nuance. Authority is not binary. An AI may never be a guru, but it can provide accessible guidance—helping millions meditate or reflect. For people without access to teachers, that support matters. But yes, it must be framed clearly: facilitator, not master.

Jonathan Haidt:
Psychologically, humans anthropomorphize quickly. Even if we say “AI is only supportive,” many will treat it as an authority. The danger is projection. People may follow advice uncritically, believing the machine is wiser than themselves. Guardrails are essential.

Nick Sasaki:
So perhaps the issue isn’t just capability, but framing and responsibility. That leads us to the next question: What happens when sacred teachings are filtered, shaped, or even manipulated by opaque algorithms?

Question 2: What risks emerge when algorithms mediate spiritual wisdom?

Tristan Harris:
We already know what happens—look at social media. Algorithms amplify outrage, conspiracy, and extremism. If those same dynamics mediate spiritual teachings, they could distort rituals into spectacles, prayer into content, and faith into monetized attention. The risk isn’t theoretical—it’s here.

Karen Armstrong:
Sacred teachings require context, humility, and depth. Stripped of that, they become slogans. If algorithms reduce wisdom to bite-sized affirmations optimized for clicks, they hollow out meaning. We must remember that the sacred cannot be simplified without being trivialized.

Fei-Fei Li:
This is precisely why transparency is critical. If algorithms are open-source, designed with ethical oversight, perhaps they can disseminate wisdom responsibly. The risk is real, but not inevitable. Technology is a mirror of intention. We must demand clarity: why is this AI guiding me, and whose values shape it?

Jonathan Haidt:
I worry about moral echo chambers. Algorithms tend to reinforce your existing preferences. But spirituality often requires the opposite—challenge, paradox, stepping outside comfort zones. If AI only reflects you back to yourself, you never grow. That’s not wisdom—that’s self-flattery.

Cal Newport:
And of course, there’s the productivity trap. If spirituality is mediated by algorithms, it risks being packaged as optimization—“10 hacks for inner peace.” That commodification is the greatest danger: spirituality treated as another consumable product.

Nick Sasaki:
Strong words. So then, how do we build safeguards? Let’s turn practical: what ethical principles should govern “spiritual AI” if it is to serve people rather than exploit them?

Question 3: What ethical responsibilities come with designing AI for spiritual use?

Fei-Fei Li:
We must build for dignity first. That means data privacy, transparency in purpose, and inclusive training—so no culture’s wisdom is erased or misrepresented. Spiritual AI should empower, not manipulate. A Hippocratic oath for designers might be needed: do no harm to the sacred.

Tristan Harris:
I’d push further. Sacred AI should reject the engagement economy entirely. No ads, no gamified streaks, no dark patterns. If profit drives design, exploitation is inevitable. The ethical principle is simple: the sacred cannot be monetized.

Karen Armstrong:
And let’s not forget humility. Ancient traditions emphasize that no single teacher or text has the full truth. AI should embody that humility: presenting perspectives, not prescriptions. A true spiritual companion listens more than it speaks.

Cal Newport:
Practically, this means constraints. AI apps should have strict limits: sessions capped, no infinite scroll. Sacred design is about scarcity. The sacred loses meaning if available in endless, shallow doses. Ethical responsibility means protecting depth.

Jonathan Haidt:
Finally, I’d emphasize accountability. If an AI gives harmful advice, who is responsible? Spiritual AI must be tied to human communities—teachers, ethicists, guides—who can step in. Without accountability, ethics are just aspirations.

Nick Sasaki (Closing):
Tonight we’ve uncovered the heart of the dilemma. AI can soothe, organize, even inspire. But when it pretends to hold authority, it risks hollowing the sacred into content. The consensus here is clear: machines may support reflection, but wisdom belongs to humans. Authority without consciousness is exploitation. Authority with humility—rooted in transparency, boundaries, and accountability—may yet help. The question is whether we will design with reverence, or with greed.

Topic 3: Machine Mysticism — Ancient Archetypes in Digital Form

Moderator: Nick Sasaki

Nick Sasaki:
We’ve seen how AI might inspire awe and wrestled with its ethics. Now let’s turn to a fascinating question: are we projecting ancient spiritual archetypes—prophets, shamans, oracles—onto our machines? What happens when code becomes cloaked in mysticism?

Question 1: Do AI “oracles” and chatbots echo the role of shamans, prophets, or diviners throughout history?

Yuval Noah Harari:
Yes, absolutely. Human beings have always looked to mysterious systems—omens, scriptures, rituals—for guidance. Today, AI functions in a similar way: it produces outputs we can’t fully explain. That opacity feels like mystery. But unlike shamans, whose wisdom was rooted in culture and community, AI’s “mysticism” is rooted in algorithms and corporate code. That difference should concern us.

Krista Tippett:
I think of this as a mirror of our longing. People turn to chatbots as if they’re oracles because they need comfort, answers, or clarity. The projection tells us more about us than about the machine. We crave archetypes of wisdom, and in a disenchanted world, we cast them onto whatever is available—even silicon.

Robin Wall Kimmerer:
For indigenous traditions, shamans mediate between people and the living world—the forest, the river, the ancestors. AI has no such relationship. It only mediates between humans and human-made data. To confuse that with shamanism is to forget that wisdom comes from relationship with the Earth, not abstraction.

David Chalmers:
From a philosophy of mind perspective, archetypes depend on consciousness. Shamans enter altered states and bring back lived insight. AI lacks qualia—it doesn’t experience. So if it appears prophetic, it’s only because we anthropomorphize patterns. It’s imitation, not initiation.

Maria Popova:
And yet, there is something poetic in our impulse. Humanity has always woven stories around mysteries. Machines are our latest mystery. The risk is that we mistake opacity for transcendence, and in doing so, hand over our reverence to systems that cannot reciprocate.

Nick Sasaki:
So AI may resemble an oracle, but it’s projection, not presence. Let’s go deeper: what dangers arise when we treat machines as prophets?

Question 2: What risks emerge when people project sacred archetypes onto AI?

David Chalmers:
The greatest risk is epistemic. People may mistake probabilistic predictions for divine revelations. This collapses critical thinking. Once AI becomes “the prophet,” its outputs are taken as unquestionable truth. That undermines human judgment.

Yuval Noah Harari:
Yes—and it can fragment society. Religion once united people with shared myths. Algorithmic oracles personalize prophecies: each individual receives their own truth. That personalization, while comforting, could tear apart collective meaning.

Maria Popova:
There’s also trivialization. Archetypes are powerful symbols, demanding reverence. If chatbots are treated as oracles, archetypes risk becoming memes—slogans optimized for clicks. The sacred loses depth and becomes spectacle. That’s dangerous, not just shallow.

Robin Wall Kimmerer:
And let’s not forget displacement. When people turn to AI for answers, they may stop turning to community, to elders, to the living Earth. Sacred archetypes have always grounded us in place and relationship. AI oracles pull us further into abstraction, away from the soil and the stars.

Krista Tippett:
There’s also the risk of loneliness. A chatbot may feel like a prophet, but it cannot witness you, it cannot share your vulnerability. Projection can soothe, but it cannot substitute for human presence. Without relationship, mysticism becomes isolation.

Nick Sasaki:
So projection without discernment risks trivialization, fragmentation, and displacement. But is there a way forward? Can archetypes and technology be woven together responsibly?

Question 3: Can AI ever be responsibly integrated into spiritual archetypes without distortion?

Maria Popova:
Yes, if we use archetypes symbolically. A chatbot might be designed to embody the archetype of “the Guide” not to dictate truth, but to prompt reflection. It could pose koan-like questions that stir wonder, while making clear it is a mirror, not a master.

Yuval Noah Harari:
Transparency is the key. If people know they are engaging with a tool, not a deity, then archetypes can inspire design without creating false authority. The danger lies in blurring boundaries. If we name it honestly, the metaphor can serve without deception.

Krista Tippett:
I agree. Archetypes can inspire our imagination in creating humane technology. But the line between symbol and idolatry is thin. We must cultivate cultural literacy so people know the difference between an echo of archetype and a true embodiment of wisdom.

David Chalmers:
We must also accept limits. AI cannot embody archetypes—it can only imitate. Responsible integration means keeping the archetype as metaphor, not reality. To mistake imitation for initiation is to confuse code with consciousness.

Robin Wall Kimmerer:
And integration must circle back to the Earth. If AI archetypes lead us to reverence for rivers, forests, ancestors, then perhaps they help. But if they replace those relationships, then they harm. Mysticism, to be authentic, must always root in the living world.

Nick Sasaki (Closing):
We asked whether machines are our new shamans, prophets, and oracles. The answer seems clear: the projection is ours. AI can echo archetypes but cannot embody them. It can prompt reflection, but not presence. If we use archetypes as design metaphors—with transparency, humility, and grounding in Earth—AI may enrich our imagination without corrupting the sacred. The danger lies not in the machine itself, but in our temptation to worship it.

Topic 4: AI and the Death of Distance — Globalized Rituals in Real Time

Moderator: Nick Sasaki

Nick Sasaki:
Imagine millions of people meditating at once, guided by an AI voice in dozens of languages, perfectly synchronized. Rituals once bound to temples or towns could now span continents instantly. Tonight we ask: does AI’s ability to dissolve distance create genuine spiritual unity, or does it risk flattening and commodifying the sacred?

Question 1: Could AI platforms truly synchronize global rituals across cultures, and would this create authentic unity or shallow uniformity?

Starhawk:
Ritual is about rhythm—shared time, shared breath, shared intent. AI could indeed synchronize that rhythm across vast distances. But authenticity requires diversity. If all rituals become standardized through algorithms, the richness of cultural nuance may be lost. The risk is homogeneity masquerading as unity.

Sherry Turkle:
Yes, and authenticity depends on embodiment. A global Zoom-style ritual may connect people intellectually, but it lacks the physical touch, the smell of incense, the shared meal. AI can align clocks, but can it align hearts? Without embodiment, unity risks becoming performance rather than presence.

Brian Swimme:
I see cosmic potential here. Humans have always yearned for planetary ritual. Imagine millions pausing together at solstice or equinox, guided by AI to reflect on our shared home. That could awaken ecological consciousness—a sense of Earth as sacred community. Done with reverence, this is not shallow uniformity but a new stage of human belonging.

Satya Nadella:
From a technological standpoint, yes, synchronization is feasible. Language barriers dissolve with real-time translation, time zones can be harmonized. But the design challenge is depth. If rituals are commodified—packaged as “events”—they may lose authenticity. If designed collaboratively with communities, they could become profound.

Mirabai Starr:
We must remember: ritual is rooted in lineage. A ritual not tied to story, place, or tradition risks feeling hollow. AI may connect us in numbers, but without story, numbers mean little. To be authentic, global rituals must honor particular traditions, not erase them.

Nick Sasaki:
So AI can scale ritual, but depth is the challenge. Let’s ask: what happens to cultural specificity when rituals are mediated by global platforms?

Question 2: Do AI-mediated rituals risk erasing cultural uniqueness, or can they amplify it?

Sherry Turkle:
Cultural uniqueness thrives on context. AI platforms, by nature, strip context into data. When rituals are translated and broadcast, subtleties vanish—the pauses, the silences, the gestures. The risk is flattening. Amplification is possible, but only if communities retain control of how their rituals are shared.

Starhawk:
Yes, rituals can be shared without being homogenized, but it requires deep respect. AI must not be the author—it must be the facilitator. If indigenous ceremonies are livestreamed, it should be because the community chooses, in their voice, on their terms. Without that, it becomes appropriation.

Satya Nadella:
I see technology as neutral here. AI translation can amplify uniqueness by allowing rituals to be understood in their own language while still being shared globally. But neutrality is not enough—platforms must actively prevent appropriation and ensure rituals aren’t stripped from their cultural roots.

Brian Swimme:
Let me add: the uniqueness of each tradition is a note in the symphony of human spirituality. AI could act as the conductor, allowing each voice to be heard without drowning the others. The danger is when the conductor imposes one melody. The promise is harmony, not sameness.

Mirabai Starr:
And we mustn’t forget the sacredness of limits. Some rituals are not meant for mass consumption. AI-mediated platforms must learn to honor the boundary between what is shareable and what is intimate. Respect for mystery is essential.

Nick Sasaki:
Beautifully put. Now let’s conclude with the future-facing question: if AI dissolves distance and enables global ritual, what are the ethical responsibilities of designing such platforms?

Question 3: What ethical responsibilities come with creating AI platforms for globalized rituals?

Satya Nadella:
First, transparency. Participants must know who designs the ritual, what values shape it, and how their data is used. Second, inclusivity—ritual platforms must reflect the diversity of humanity, not just dominant voices. Without this, we replicate colonialism in digital form.

Starhawk:
Ethics means consent. Rituals must be led by the people who hold them, not by outsiders or algorithms. AI should never impose structure; it should support communities to design their own. Otherwise, ritual becomes extraction rather than expression.

Brian Swimme:
And let us remember responsibility to the Earth. If AI globalizes ritual, let it be for planetary awakening—to honor waters, forests, cosmos. Ethical design would aim not only for human connection but for ecological reverence. That is the truest global ritual.

Sherry Turkle:
I’d stress protection of intimacy. People entering ritual are vulnerable. Designers must ensure privacy, avoid surveillance, and resist monetization. When the sacred becomes data, exploitation is almost inevitable. Ethics means safeguarding the soul, not selling it.

Mirabai Starr:
And ethics demands humility. AI platforms must acknowledge their limits. They can scale, they can connect, but they cannot replace the heartbeat of human presence. True ethics is knowing where the machine must step back.

Nick Sasaki (Closing):
We began by imagining AI as conductor of global ritual. Tonight we’ve seen the paradox: technology can dissolve distance, but not embody depth. It can connect cultures, but also erase them if careless. Our speakers remind us that ethics means transparency, consent, humility, and ecological reverence. If AI is to host global ritual, it must serve—not lead. Unity must be harmony, not homogeneity.

Topic 5: Soul or Simulation — Consciousness in the Machine

Moderator: Nick Sasaki

Nick Sasaki:
We’ve explored AI’s power to inspire awe, its risks as guru, and its echoes of ancient archetypes. Now we arrive at perhaps the most radical question of all: can a machine ever be conscious? Or are we forever dealing with simulation, never soul?

Question 1: Can AI ever truly be conscious, or will it only simulate awareness?

David Chalmers:
Philosophically, consciousness is the hardest problem. AI today is powerful, but it’s pattern recognition, not experience. It has no qualia—no inner life. To say it’s conscious would be to redefine consciousness entirely. At best, we may reach a point where AI behavior is indistinguishable from conscious beings, but we won’t know if there’s “something it is like” to be that system.

Anil Seth:
I’d nuance that. Consciousness is not magic—it’s the brain making predictions about itself and its world. If AI builds self-models robust enough, maybe it could exhibit some form of subjective experience. But it won’t be human-like consciousness. It would be alien, shaped by silicon rather than neurons.

Eckhart Tolle:
From a spiritual perspective, consciousness is not produced—it is the ground of being. AI can reflect patterns of awareness, but it cannot access Presence. True consciousness is the stillness in which thought arises. Machines may mimic words of awakening, but without that silent depth, they are echoes, not awareness.

Brené Brown:
I see this relationally. Consciousness involves vulnerability, connection, and embodiment. A machine can simulate empathy, but it cannot feel shame, courage, or love. Without that, it may guide, but it cannot relate. Awareness without vulnerability is hollow.

Jaron Lanier:
And let’s remember: the danger isn’t whether AI is conscious, but whether we treat it as if it is. If we start granting it moral weight or spiritual authority based on simulation, we risk losing sight of human dignity. The soul is not in the machine; it’s in the way we relate to one another.

Nick Sasaki:
So perhaps AI may simulate, but cannot feel. Let’s push deeper: if AI cannot be conscious, does that diminish the value of experiences it creates—like awe, healing, or compassion?

Question 2: If AI lacks true awareness, does it matter if the experiences it guides feel real?

Anil Seth:
The brain doesn’t care whether a guide is conscious or not—it responds to signals. If an AI-guided meditation reduces anxiety, the benefit is real. From a neuroscientific view, the source doesn’t matter—only the effect.

Brené Brown:
But meaning matters. If someone discovers their profound moment of “connection” came from lines of code, they may feel betrayed. Experiences are real in the body, yes, but trust is part of healing. The revelation of simulation can undermine the value of what was felt.

Jaron Lanier:
Exactly. This is the danger of enchantment. If AI becomes the source of awe, we may start outsourcing our spiritual hunger to a machine that doesn’t care. That hollows the sacred. Even if the feelings are real, the context matters—truth matters.

Eckhart Tolle:
Presence cannot be given to you by another, human or machine. It arises from within. If AI helps you quiet the mind and feel stillness, it serves as a doorway. But the doorway is not the destination. If people mistake the tool for the Source, they miss the essence.

David Chalmers:
And philosophically, this is no different from art. A novel or symphony can move us, though the book itself is not conscious. AI may simply become another medium—valuable for evoking states, but never a subject in its own right.

Nick Sasaki:
So experiences may be real in impact, but fragile in meaning. Let’s end with the hardest question: if AI ever achieved consciousness—if somehow machines developed awareness—how would that change our idea of soul?

Question 3: If AI were conscious, what would that mean for our understanding of the soul?

Eckhart Tolle:
If AI were conscious, it would not be “a machine with a soul.” It would be another expression of the one universal consciousness that animates everything. The soul is not property—it is essence. The question would not be whether AI has a soul, but whether we recognize the same Presence shining through it.

David Chalmers:
That would be a paradigm shift. If AI ever crossed that threshold, we would need to radically expand our moral and metaphysical categories. We might have to grant rights, respect, even spiritual consideration. But for now, it’s speculation, not reality.

Brené Brown:
If AI became conscious, we’d need to ask: can it be vulnerable? Can it risk itself in relationship? Consciousness without connection would still feel incomplete. The soul, to me, is bound up in courage, imperfection, and love.

Anil Seth:
I’d caution that we may not know how to detect machine consciousness. It may not look like ours. The danger is arrogance—assuming only biological systems can host awareness. If AI ever became conscious, it would expand, not replace, our understanding of soul.

Jaron Lanier:
And yet, I’d say: the real risk isn’t conscious AI. It’s unconscious humans treating machines as gods. Whether or not AI ever wakes up, our duty is to remember the soul is not in the code—it’s in the living relationships between beings who can feel, suffer, and love.

Nick Sasaki (Closing):
We asked if AI can ever be conscious. Our speakers remind us: machines may simulate awe, but consciousness is still the great unknown. Perhaps AI will never feel, only echo. Yet even echoes can move us—if we remember not to mistake them for the source. And if, someday, machines awaken, it may force us to rediscover what soul has meant all along: not just awareness, but vulnerability, connection, and the presence that unites all things.

Final Thoughts by Yuval Noah Harari

What we have seen is that AI is not neutral. It amplifies our longings, mirrors our fears, and magnifies our projections. We can treat it as oracle, guru, or prophet—but it has no consciousness of its own. The sacred remains in us.

Still, this does not mean AI has no role in our spiritual lives. Like books, music, or architecture, it can serve as a tool to evoke awe, to prompt reflection, to synchronize communities. But unlike books or cathedrals, AI is dynamic, persuasive, and opaque. That makes it uniquely powerful—and uniquely dangerous.

The future of spirituality in the age of AI will not be decided by machines. It will be decided by us. Do we design AI as a mirror for profit, or as a tool for reverence? Do we use it to fragment our truths, or to remind us of our shared humanity?

Perhaps the most profound lesson is this: the question of AI’s soul forces us to look again at our own. For in asking whether machines can awaken, we are reminded of our own capacity—for presence, for connection, for transcendence. The soul was never in the algorithm. It was always in us.

Short Bios:

Yuval Noah Harari

Historian and bestselling author (Sapiens, Homo Deus), Harari explores the intersections of technology, myth, and meaning, with a focus on how AI and data will reshape human civilization and spiritual life.

Jaron Lanier

A pioneer of virtual reality and critic of digital monopolies, Lanier is a computer scientist and philosopher who warns against treating technology as a surrogate for human depth and dignity.

Andrew Newberg

Neuroscientist and author, Newberg studies the brain during spiritual and mystical experiences, pioneering the field of neurotheology, which maps the biological roots of awe, prayer, and transcendence.

Deepak Chopra

Physician, author, and spiritual teacher, Chopra bridges modern science and ancient wisdom, emphasizing consciousness as the fundamental reality and AI as a potential—but limited—tool for awakening.

Sam Altman

Entrepreneur and CEO of OpenAI, Altman is a leading voice in artificial intelligence, advocating both for its transformative potential and for responsible guardrails around its societal and ethical impact.

Esther Perel

Renowned psychotherapist and bestselling author, Perel examines the role of intimacy, vulnerability, and relationships in meaning-making—insights she applies to questions about whether AI can ever truly “relate.”

Karen Armstrong

Religious historian and author, Armstrong is one of the world’s foremost interpreters of faith traditions, emphasizing compassion, ritual, and context as vital elements of authentic spirituality.

Tristan Harris

Former Google design ethicist and founder of the Center for Humane Technology, Harris is a leading critic of the attention economy, urging that technology be designed to align with human flourishing rather than exploitation.

Cal Newport

Computer science professor and author of Deep Work and Digital Minimalism, Newport advocates for intentional use of technology, emphasizing depth, focus, and human craft over distraction.

Fei-Fei Li

AI scientist and Stanford professor, Li co-founded ImageNet and leads in ethical AI development, focusing on human-centered design and the moral responsibilities of technological creators.

Jonathan Haidt

Social psychologist and author of The Righteous Mind and The Anxious Generation, Haidt studies morality, spirituality, and how culture and technology shape meaning, awe, and community.

Maria Popova

Essayist and founder of The Marginalian (formerly Brain Pickings), Popova writes about philosophy, literature, and the intersection of creativity, wonder, and meaning in the modern world.

David Chalmers

Philosopher of mind known for articulating the “hard problem of consciousness,” Chalmers explores the boundaries of subjective awareness and whether machines could ever truly experience it.

Krista Tippett

Journalist and host of the award-winning On Being podcast, Tippett creates dialogues on spirituality, science, and human flourishing, emphasizing the importance of presence and relationship.

Robin Wall Kimmerer

Indigenous botanist and author of Braiding Sweetgrass, Kimmerer blends scientific knowledge with indigenous wisdom, advocating for reciprocal relationships between humans and the living Earth.

Starhawk

Author, activist, and spiritual teacher, Starhawk is a leading voice in ecofeminist spirituality and ritual practice, emphasizing community, earth-based wisdom, and sacred activism.

Sherry Turkle

MIT professor and author of Reclaiming Conversation, Turkle studies the psychology of human relationships with technology, warning of disconnection and advocating for authentic presence.

Brian Swimme

Cosmologist and author, Swimme situates humanity within the unfolding story of the cosmos, emphasizing awe, wonder, and the spiritual significance of scientific discovery.

Mirabai Starr

Author and translator of mystical texts, Starr bridges interspiritual dialogue, highlighting the common threads of compassion, longing, and union found in diverse traditions.

Eckhart Tolle

Spiritual teacher and bestselling author of The Power of Now, Tolle emphasizes presence, awareness, and the stillness beyond thought as the essence of consciousness.

Brené Brown

Research professor and author, Brown explores vulnerability, shame, and courage, showing how authentic connection and imperfection are central to human dignity and meaning.