Religious robots are a compelling phenomenon and, at the same time, a promising research topic. In recent years, such digital artifacts have been developed, presented, and used in various religious contexts. One example is the Buddhist Mindar, a one-million-dollar automaton designed to resemble Kannon, the Buddhist deity of mercy. So far, Mindar is not AI-controlled; it merely recites the same pre-programmed sermon on the Heart Sutra over and over again.

Remarkably, the development of religious machines and automata can be traced back to sixteenth-century religious practices and worship.

Both religious robots and the research associated with them are situated in the broader context of the relationship between technology and religion, as well as what it means to be human in a culture of digitality. Current theoretical approaches in communication and media theory contend that religious robots are not simply technical media for the digital transmission of certain religious information. Instead, they act as “communicative agents” and can be understood as independent entities with an almost magical impact on religious encounters.

This idea ties in with theologian Paul Tillich’s conviction that “machines” can open up access to magical experiences. He notes that the machine has a life of its own that compels anyone who deals with it to empathize with and listen to it:

Over and above the specific example of a blessing robot as a technical artifact, a focus on phenomena of religious practice in a culture of digitality thus emerges; academic research in this field is as fascinating as it is urgently needed. That urgency is reflected in the University of Zurich’s interdisciplinary research major, launched in 2021, “Digital Religion(s): Communication, Interaction and Transformation in the Digital Society.” Even before the impact of the Covid-19 pandemic, religious convictions were increasingly being articulated in digital form. Such avowals are spreading globally, quite literally unconstrained by borders. Digital participation is altering religious ritual practice, making it more diverse and more of an encounter on an equal footing than ever before. Faith is expressed differently on the internet, more individually, more fluidly, and more freely. Religious authority is no longer determined by specific church officials or religious leaders. And virtual religious practice is apparently possible without the physical presence of a community. That, however, raises very fundamental questions: is a new religious truth emerging on the internet? Does digital religious practice still require a physical community? Does religious resonance evaporate in virtual spaces? Will the future see a digital, planetary religion? At the same time, this also raises a much broader fundamental ethical-theological question: what can religious practice contribute to faith and living a good life in the spaces that make up digital society?