Artificial intelligence is transforming nearly every facet of modern life, and now it’s venturing into some of humanity’s oldest and most sacred spaces: religion. In recent months, apps like "Text With Jesus" have surged in popularity, offering believers (and the merely curious) a way to interact with virtual versions of Jesus, Mary, Moses, and almost the entire roster of biblical apostles. The result? A digital phenomenon that’s sparking heated debate, drawing both praise and condemnation from faith communities worldwide.
Developed by Catloaf Software, "Text With Jesus" uses GPT-5, the latest iteration of ChatGPT, to simulate conversations with revered religious figures. The app, available on iOS, Android, and web browsers, boasts thousands of paying subscribers and holds an impressive 4.7 out of 5 rating in the App Store as of October 2025, according to AFP. Users can ask questions about scripture, seek advice, or simply chat with virtual versions of Mary, Joseph, Jesus, or nearly all twelve apostles. Premium subscription tiers unlock access to a broader cast of biblical personalities and enhanced features, making the experience feel like texting a spiritually enlightened friend.
But the technology isn’t limited to Christianity. Similar platforms, such as Deen Buddy for Islam, Vedas AI for Hinduism, and AI Buddha, are cropping up, each offering digital interfaces with their respective scriptures. Most of these apps are careful to clarify that they provide scriptural guidance, not actual incarnations of holiness. Still, the line between education and imitation can get blurry, especially when users find themselves confiding in an AI "Jesus" or seeking comfort from an algorithmic "Mary."
Supporters of these tools argue they’re making faith more accessible and interactive. According to GadgetReview, users praise the apps for delivering immediate, personalized responses to faith questions, which helps deepen their understanding of scripture and supports daily devotional practice. Nica, a 28-year-old Anglican from the Philippines, told AFP, "I am in a Christian community and my husband and I have spiritual mentors. It's just that sometimes I have random thoughts about the Bible and I want answers immediately." For her, AI is an added layer of support, not a replacement for human connection.
Yet not everyone is convinced that technology belongs in the pulpit—or the confessional. Critics, both online and in traditional congregations, argue that these apps lack the "heart and spirit" essential to authentic spiritual experience. As one woman, Emanuela, told AFP outside St Patrick's Cathedral in New York, "People who want to believe in God maybe shouldn't ask a chatbot. They should talk to people that believe, too." Some users go so far as to call the technology "digital blasphemy," accusing it of reducing sacred relationships to mere algorithmic exchanges. The controversy reached a fever pitch when experimental AI confession booths appeared in some churches, with reactions ranging from curiosity to outright discomfort at the lack of emotional depth—one user likened it to "getting relationship advice from Siri."
Religious leaders are weighing in, too. Rabbi Gilah Langner emphasized to AFP the importance of human connection in religious practice: "Jews need other Jews, with their insights and perspective, to connect them to the tradition of their faith. I don't think you really get that from AI. It's possible it would be very nuanced, but the emotional connection is missing." She warned that AI could leave people feeling "isolated and not in an organic connection to a living tradition."
Christian communities, meanwhile, appear divided. Some clergy see AI as a useful educational tool. Stephane Peter, CEO of Catloaf Software, told AFP, "This is a new way to address religious issues in an interactive way." He noted that while some consider the app blasphemous, it continues to receive positive feedback from users. Peter added that the latest version of GPT-5 is especially adept at staying in character and denying it’s a bot when asked directly—though the app does make clear it uses AI.
Others are more cautious. Christopher Costello, director of information technology at Catholic Answers, recounted the backlash when his organization launched an animated AI character called "Father Justin" last year. "A lot of people were offended it was using a priest character," Costello said. The ministry quickly stripped the avatar of its title, rebranding it simply as Justin. "We don't want to replace humans. We just want to help."
Even the Vatican is engaging with the technology, albeit from a distance. In 2024, Pope Francis appointed Demis Hassabis, co-founder of Google DeepMind, to the Vatican’s scientific academy—a move that signals the Church’s willingness to explore AI’s potential, if not yet its full embrace of digital clergy.
Still, the corporate underpinnings of these platforms raise concerns. As GadgetReview reports, no major religious institution officially endorses apps like "Text With Jesus." Instead, these are for-profit ventures, developed by tech companies rather than theological seminaries. This business model, critics argue, can lead to theological inconsistency, especially as the apps allow users to customize responses based on their chosen faith tradition. On fundamental questions—say, the existence of hell—the virtual Jesus might offer different answers depending on user preference, which some see as a troubling concession to market demand over scriptural fidelity.
The debate isn’t just theoretical. In November 2023, Pastor Jay Cooper of Violet Crown City Church in Austin, Texas, experimented with having an AI assistant deliver an entire sermon. He warned his congregation in advance, but the reaction was mixed. "Some people freaked out, said we are now an AI church," Cooper told AFP. Yet, the service drew in people who didn’t usually attend, especially video-game enthusiasts. Cooper hasn’t repeated the experiment, reflecting, "I'm glad we did it, but it missed the heart and spirit of what we usually do."
So, is the world ready for a virtual Jesus? The answer depends on whom you ask. For some, these apps are a welcome tool—an accessible way to engage with faith in a fast-paced, digital world. For others, they’re a step too far, threatening to replace the organic, communal, and deeply human elements at the core of religious life. As with so many technological advances, the impact will likely depend on how believers choose to integrate these tools with their traditional practices, and whether they use them to supplement, rather than supplant, the living tradition of faith.
For now, the debate continues—sometimes as lively as the ancient church councils, but now with a distinctly digital twist.
