Introduction
As you may have noted, the theme of this lecture ends with a question mark. You may assume my answer to the question is yes, and that is, of course, correct. As is often the case, the most intriguing part is not the answer itself but rather the path towards it. Hence, in the following, I would like to share some reflections on this path.
For a long time, this affirmative answer was far from obvious. Sixty-six years ago, C. P. Snow (1959) famously talked about “The Two Cultures.” His point was that the lack of communication between the sciences and the humanities would hamper constructive engagement with the world’s problems. However, while Snow saw the neglect of science by many of the highly educated of his day as the main problem—a disrespect of science by the humanities, as it were—I have often encountered the opposite: a disrespect of the humanities by scientists. In a conversation about the significance of hermeneutics in the framing and communication of research, a scientist responded: “Hermeneutics? Never heard of it. Can’t be important.”
In Sweden, where I have resided for most of the past forty-eight years, it is quite common to favor science and technology over the humanities. That is where the money is, and that is where the money goes. Tech is serious, while the humanities are a hobby; such views are alive even at the government level. Some years ago, a tweet was circulated that caricatured a consequence of this attitude. It said something like: In the financial world of Paris, lots are drawn to see who will meet Swedish businessmen. No one wants to because they can only talk money, possibly golf. No one has read novels, no one has seen art, no one has any religion.
This is certainly not the whole truth about Swedish businessmen! What is true, however, is that polarization between the world of science and technology on the one hand and the world of the humanities and theology on the other leads straight into cultural poverty. This in turn dramatically shrinks our chances of adequately meeting the challenges humanity is facing—challenges that today can be summarized with the words climate and conflict, digitalization and democracy. We need strong, vibrant, critical, and self-critical partnerships between science, technology, theology, and spirituality. To substantiate this claim, I will briefly reflect on what brought us to the point where we are.
From Then to Now: Science and Theology in Relationship
The history of the relationship between theology and the natural sciences in the Western world is not unlike the dynamics of a growing family. During the Middle Ages, theology was the queen of sciences. In the thirteenth century, Thomas Aquinas created a powerful synthesis of the best knowledge about theology, philosophy, and nature, drawing on the philosophy of Aristotle, which had come to Christian Western Europe thanks to the high standards of Muslim scholarship.
Christian theology could inspire scientific inquiry. Where God is understood as the creator who has endowed the cosmos with order and humans with creative rationality, inquiry into how the cosmos works can indeed be a way of worship. Reading and understanding both “the book of scripture” and “the book of nature” becomes a noble enterprise. In that sense, early modern science was a child of theology. Many of the pioneers of modern science were close to theology or the church (Brooke 1991).
Nevertheless, just as children struggle their way through adolescence, the natural sciences had to strive for their emancipation and autonomy. At least since the days of René Descartes, much of Western Christian theology has had the separation of nature and thought (res extensa and res cogitans) as its paradigm. The premodern view of the world, which saw the relationship between the book of nature and the Bible as symmetrical and complementary, was replaced by a modern view that tended to separate spirit and idea from matter and body. This resulted in a mechanistic view of nature, which permitted the (over)exploitation of nature, often legitimized by theological discourses of humans (men) as the crown of creation. Humans became alienated from nature/the whole of creation.
Such separation of nature and humanity provided fertile ground for patriarchal and sexist views of nature and science. The program of the Royal Society, founded in 1660, reflects a view of nature as the woman the (male) scientist must conquer. Research is envisioned as the systematic unveiling of mother nature, exposing her secrets and penetrating her womb, thus forcing her into submission (von Wright 1986, 65). Or, more poetically: “The Beautiful Bosom of Nature will be Expos’d to our view: we shall enter into its Garden, and taste of its Fruits, and satisfy our selves with its plenty” (Sprat 1958, 327; spelling adapted by the author). Oppression and exploitation in romantic disguise, that is. In a similar vein, colonial worldviews have exercised power in both science and theology.
God moved into the emotional dimensions of life, while the natural world became the arena of technology and industrialization. As German physicist and philosopher Carl Friedrich von Weizsäcker (1983, 374f) drastically put it: “Die Theologie hat der Naturwissenschaft die Natur zum Fraße hingeworfen.” In nonliteral translation: Theology has thrown nature under the bus of natural science.
Be that as it may, we ended up with a world that fell apart: on the one hand, desecrated nature as an object for science and technology (think of Max Weber: die Entzauberung der Welt [the disenchantment of the world]), on the other hand, religiosity/spirituality as something subjective and private.1 As a methodological separation for the sake of research, this may have been necessary and productive at the dawn of modern science. However, seen as an ontological or existential necessity, this separation was and is disastrous. Dualisms such as “one is objective, the other is subjective” or “one is rational, the other is irrational” are untenable. As is the apologetical misuse of science along the lines “and the Bible is right after all” (cf. Keller 1955).
It is worth noting that, although the field often is referred to as science and religion, the dialogue partner of science—however understood—is not religion as such but rather theology, which I define as the critical and self-critical reflection about the content and effects of a religious tradition—in my case, mostly Christian tradition (cf. Watts, Nairn, and Petersen 2022). And I agree with a previous Boyle Lecturer, Robert J. Russell (1988, 370), who wrote: “To some limited but irreducible degree, [theology and science] already include something of the discoveries, histories, visions, and commitments of one another, both intentionally and inadvertently.”
Against this backdrop, I have argued for an intellectually honest theology that includes an understanding of the world as open-ended, creative at its boundaries and rough edges, and ambiguous in its potentialities. This ambiguity implies that a partnership between theology and science always must remain unfinished business. Together with the common responsibility of both for the world, this ambiguity stirs up “some healthy unrest in what could become a cozy togetherness between two partners who have to come to know their standard rejoinders all too well” (Jackelén 2008, 53).
I have been part of this dialogue for about four decades, both as an academic and as a church leader. It may very well be the case that church leadership has sharpened my interest in the impact of science turned into technology on life on the planet and in theology as a catalyst of a spirituality that inspires action. When I look back, I notice some interesting developments.
Roughly speaking, back in the 1980s, this dialogue was pretty much about physicists trying to bring theologians up to speed on quantum theory and, for their own part, trying to understand the philosophical consequences of the uncertainty principle. Then, molecular biologists showed up and said something like: “Look, we don’t really need religion. It’s all in the genes, you know, and in the end, there will be a biological explanation of everything.” After them, cognitive scientists entered the stage. And their take was: “Well, religion is natural, sort of”—and we witnessed a renaissance of the homo religiosus, the idea that humans have an inherent inclination towards religion, a religious musicality as it were. And recently, climate scientists have come on board. Their message is: “We need religion! The reason is straightforward. We need positive social tipping points to get away from an otherwise catastrophic development. And achieving those tipping points includes religion. We won’t reverse the curves and save the planet without it.” Nowadays, we hear even politicians say the climate crisis is also an existential and spiritual crisis.
If I am to summarize my position on theology and science in one sentence, I choose the image of a triangle drama: it is a dynamic love triangle between faith in knowledge (science), knowledge of faith (theology and spiritual wisdom), and their common responsibility for the world. It is after all in this common responsibility for the world that the rubber hits the road.
For precisely this reason, it is important to acknowledge that partnerships between science, technology, theology, and spirituality always take place in specific contexts. Therefore, I will now move on to a brief sketch of current contexts.
Current Contexts
Polycrisis is a word frequently used to describe the state of the world, meaning the occurrence of several crises at the same time: climate emergency and loss of biodiversity, conflict and war (which, besides everything else, is also an ecological disaster), conflict and crime, global migration, economic crisis, the global decline of democracy, and the ambivalence of digitalization and AI. Polycrisis happens in a world widely marked by what I have called the five poisonous P’s of polarization, populism, protectionism, post-truth, and patriarchy.
Polarization widens the gap between those who have too much and those who have too little, creating climate, education, health, demographic, and intergenerational injustice.
Populism pits people against each other and fails to do justice to the complexities of current crises, thus nurturing hostility and even hate toward those who are different and claims of primacy or superiority of one group over others. This in turn results in racism, xenophobia, and an irrational fear of ethnic, religious, and sexual minorities.
Protectionism blurs the view of the global scope of polycrisis, sacrificing the common good for self-interest and promoting egoism and nationalism.
Post-truth, with the dissemination of disinformation and lies exacerbated by the strategic use of powerful digital tools, undermines the kind of honest communication without which democratic systems cannot develop and survive.
Patriarchy boosts a global pushback on the rights of women and girls, promotes toxic masculinities, and counteracts gender justice. It develops a destructive synergy together with the other four poisonous P’s.
In such a scenario, it is no surprise that we see a rise in mental health issues and scarcity when it comes to the kind of hope that enables people to act well in uncharted territory. In response, joint forces that work truly transdisciplinarily are called for.
We have been used to seeing rational accounts of the best knowledge available as the main task of the dialogue between science and theology. As important as this is, it is not enough. To be fully intellectual includes spiritual perspectives. In the current cluster of crises, this becomes ever more evident. To cope, hope, and act, humans also need access to spiritual perspectives. And I am convinced that communicating spiritual insights requires as much acumen as the dissemination of rational knowledge.
A spiritual vacuum prevents people from mobilizing their full potential. It leads to an increase in fear instead of fostering the courage that would be needed for change and adaptation. It may even be the case that the propensity to embrace conspiracy theories increases due to the lack of a culture that is both rationally and spiritually sound, i.e., a culture that is fully intelligent. In other words, we are at a point where we need to have a fresh look at possible partnerships between science and theology from the perspective of spirituality (Jackelén 2021).
Exploring Partnerships
I will now try to explore what such partnerships might mean today. To that end, I first turn to a topic that engages and affects people in almost all walks of life, namely, artificial intelligence (AI).2
AI as the Fourth Narcissistic Insult
In a paper from 1917, Sigmund Freud, the founder of the psychoanalytic school, describes three narcissistic insults, violations, wounds, or injuries (Kränkungen) of the human person. The first narcissistic insult came with the heliocentric worldview and the insight that we are not the center of the universe. It was followed by two more: the loss of the position of “the crown of creation” through the theory of evolution and the loss of sovereignty over oneself through the discovery of the power of the unconscious. Copernicus stood for the first insult, Charles Darwin for the second, and Freud, according to himself, for the third and most serious. Now, had Freud heard of generative AI or artificial general intelligence, he would have been prompted to add a fourth narcissistic insult of the human person. The cosmological, biological, and psychological insults are followed by the intellectual insult. How we will cope with that one remains to be seen.
The entrance of AI is not the first time in the history of science and technology that a fourth narcissistic insult or wound is referred to. Donna Haraway (2008) also refers to Freud and what she calls the three narcissistic wounds. In her take, the fourth wound is “the informatic or cyborgian, which infolds organic and technological flesh” (Haraway 2008, 12). I would argue, however, that the development she describes does not really constitute a wound or violation. Rather, humans tend to frame this infolding primarily in terms of remedy and gradual improvement rather than an infringement. It is a gain rather than a loss, whereas, in the case of AI, the loss side can be experienced as more prevalent. Even though AI can be perceived as an assistant that improves and enhances human activity, the tremendous capacity and speed of performed calculations, combined with the sense of agency it displays, puts it in a category of its own. Whereas cyborg development appears to be gradual, the rhetoric around AI suggests a sudden and overwhelming development.
How should the threat of this new existential insult be managed? There may be several ways.
Alternative 1: Modifying the Language of AI
Even though the achievement and range of AI can be breathtaking in many ways, we can still question the term “artificial intelligence” altogether. One may speak of “co-intelligence” instead, as for example Lund University Vice Chancellor Erik Renström (2024), who writes: “Personally, I prefer the term co-intelligence as a more intuitive description of how we should relate to the phenomenon.” According to this, the resources that large language models provide are to be used as complementary to our own mental resources and nothing else. This could maybe soften the threat but will not have it disappear.
Alternative 2: Questioning the Intelligence of AI
One can also argue that so far, AI is rather stupid compared to the many facets of human intelligence, as for example cognitive scientist Peter Gärdenfors (2024) has argued. There is much to support this claim. Gärdenfors concludes that we will not have to fear the intelligence of AI systems: “We are not going to be AI’s stupid pets” (Gärdenfors 2024, 263; author’s translation). Rather, according to Gärdenfors (2024, 265–68), we should be fearful of ourselves, namely, the risk of us voluntarily giving up on the fruits of the Enlightenment and thus again ending up in the self-afflicted immaturity once so vehemently criticized by Immanuel Kant.
Others have questioned the intelligence of AI by pointing out that a large language model is a “stochastic parrot,” as it is “a system for haphazardly stitching together sequences of linguistic forms it has observed in its vast training data, according to probabilistic information about how they combine, but without any reference to meaning: a stochastic parrot” (Bender et al. 2021, 617).
Alternative 3: Focusing on Intelligences Rather Than Intelligence
Today, AI is far from exceeding human intelligence when compared to the whole range of different capacities that together constitute human intelligence. With Fraser Watts (2024, 272), we can speak of a variety of intelligences, such as artistic, personal, and moral, that all are connected to a mode of intelligence that is embodied, intuitive, socially embedded, and affective and holds special importance for spirituality. The opposite of a stochastic parrot, as it were.
There is something correct with all these alternatives, and yet, they do not really hit the point, because AI is not built by imitating the ways human intelligence develops and works. Unlike humans, it has its identity in computation and statistics and thus is profoundly different from human intelligence. So far, the three alternatives mentioned make at least some sense. However, this does not mean AI cannot deal a fateful blow to human intelligence—a blow that will have dramatic effects on our human self-understanding. This is because the speed, volume, and complexity of data processing that constitutes AI can reach levels at which the distinctions in alternatives one through three are rendered irrelevant. This happens because it is the output that counts rather than the way it was achieved.
AI is constantly pushing boundaries. Assessing the impact of this is increasingly difficult due to the speed of development. The advancement of AI is quicker than the processes to analyze its consequences and adapt social and legal systems. In the haze of this dilemma, transparency gets lost, lines of responsibility become blurred, and consequences strike surprisingly and unevenly.
It looks like it is only a matter of time until it becomes infinitely difficult or even impossible to determine whether I am talking to an artificial or natural intelligence, to a robot or to a fellow human being—even about eternal, existential questions. For example, if I suffer from a massive fear of death and realize that my partner due to their own fear is not helpful, and at the same time I experience that my AI assistant shares caring, beneficial, and valuable advice—what would be my conclusion? In other words, how much does it really matter what I call this thing (alternative one), whether it is really intelligent (alternative two), or how many intelligences it represents (alternative three)? It is reasonable to assume that we are likely to judge from the experienced usefulness of the resulting output and will not care so much about whether or how the infrastructure of AI is inferior to human intelligence.
Drawing this line a little further: What when human intelligence no longer has the means to judge the usefulness or even the plausibility of what AI tells us regarding issues of societal significance? I would say a line is crossed when this happens. Also, when it no longer matters that an AI is not sentient as humans are but, by human standards, merely pretends, a line is crossed. And since, in the end, it is the result rather than the method that matters, there will be consequences.
Put differently: as crucial as issues such as syntactic correctness and incomplete or biased training material for AI systems are, the real challenge is to reflect on the different futures the ongoing massive shift of technology is offering us. While we can keep wavering between techno-messianism and techno-dystopia, economic incentives tend to accelerate development and leave critical humanistic reflection behind. If financial interests are the only ones in the driver’s seat, new technology will most likely fail to contribute to a good society for all (Tudor et al. 2024, 86–97).
Seen that way, the development and proliferation of AI sends us back to the basics of anthropology, sociology, and theology. Considering the intellectual insult or violation through AI, what then is a human being, individually and socially? What does the imago Dei mean in relation to AI robots? As Marius Dorobantu (2024, 93) has argued, interpretations of the imago Dei will be crucial to the relationship between AI and Christianity, all the more since “relationality has lately become a buzzword in both theology and AI.” I agree that relationality has implications for interpretations of the imago Dei, even though the concept of the imago Dei is not the only way to discuss relationality in AI and Christian theology and spirituality (Jackelen 2002). As humans, we live in relationship with the transcendent, nature, each other, and self—in what I have called a fourfold web of relationality (Jackelén 2023, 2024a, 18–26). How will this fourfold web of relationality work out in the context of AI? Addressing questions like this forces us to revert to basic existential questions, such as how we understand reason (Jackelén 2024b). Therefore, I wish to offer a fourth alternative:
Alternative 4: Distinguishing between Ratio and Intellectus
To that end, I find it helpful to revisit the distinction between ratio and intellectus by the fifteenth-century polymath Nicolas of Cusa. Both Latin words mean “understanding” or “reason,” but in different ways. Ratio is the reason that counts. Literally, ratio means counting and calculation. Calculating and controlling reason is needed for everything, from making everyday life work to conducting experiments that can push the boundaries of knowledge. Ratio will take us a long way. But ratio alone does not provide intelligence. Full-fledged reason also needs intellectus. The Latin verb intellegere means to perceive, realize, understand. Intellectus is the reason that stands for insight, understanding, and meaning. Intellectus is not, however, the opposite of ratio; using intellectus is not the same as being irrational. Rather, without intellectus, ratio is not fully rational. Ratio calculates, controls, monitors. Intellectus has its strength in looking and listening, both inwardly and outwardly, toward the horizon of the unknown.
Intellectus can relate to the immeasurable and to what we humans can never fully know. We could say that intellectus knows the unknowable precisely as unknowable. Ratio must surrender to the unknowable; intellectus can relate to the unknowable without wanting to turn it into knowledge. It is indispensable for engagement with eternal questions. Against this background, it is not surprising that such a challenging and imaginative concept as learned ignorance (docta ignorantia) is a key term in Cusanus. It is also the title of a book of his from 1440.
Intellectus understands that there are things that cannot or should not be forced into human calculations—that there are things that cannot or should not be at our disposal, as argued by German sociologist Hartmut Rosa (2020) in his book on Unverfügbarkeit [The Uncontrollability of the World]. There are existential truths that we cannot conquer on our own. They are more likely to come to us when we hone our skills of enduring the unknowable or, in other words, when we care about the spiritual dimensions of existence in the world.
Modernity has often had a penchant for ratio. It has flattered our need for control and given us the partly illusory, yet real, sense that we can plan and control most things in our lives, even in the life of the planet. The guarantee of progress has been seen in regularly updated policies and procedures rather than in the schooling of judgment by refining our intellectus qualities. Now that modernity must mature, it is useful to refocus on the necessary togetherness of ratio and intellectus. It is high time to forge a partnership that includes science, technology, theology, and spirituality.
The idea that human intelligence is characterized by the interplay between ratio and intellectus is relevant for how we can deal with the intellectual insult caused by AI. No doubt, when it comes to ratio, the achievements of AI are increasingly impressive and overwhelming. It is the intellectus aspect that makes the AI adventure so much trickier; it is the intellectus aspect that allows us to call today’s AI “quite stupid” after all.
AI can be characterized as “here”-based and profane (Singler 2024, 229), whereas human intelligence can make sense of the “there” and experience transcendence. When a large language model perceives patterns or objects that are nonexistent and creates nonsensical or inaccurate outputs, this is called a hallucination. Hence, one is tempted to quip: AI hallucinates, human intelligence transcends.
Such differences are not trivial. What happens in the disembodied and placeless depths of an unfolding algorithm can have significant impact on the embodied lives of children, men, and women in all kinds of spaces and places. Or, in more theoretical words: “In accepting large amounts of web text as ‘representative’ of ‘all’ of humanity we risk perpetuating dominant viewpoints, increasing power imbalances, and further reifying inequality” (Bender et al. 2021, 614).
Justice and Sustainability
Theologically speaking, here is a call for justice to heed! What then are the resources we can use to live up to this call within a theology-and-science context? I want to suggest that we turn our attention for a moment to a project that brings together science, theology, and spirituality to heal the wounds of injustice inflicted by colonialism.
In his A Liberation Theology of the Brain: Neuroscience, Theology, and Decolonizing Emotions, Carmelo Santos-Rolón (2025) brings a decolonial perspective to bear on the dialogue between neuroscience and theology. His work can serve as an example of a partnership between science, theology, and spirituality in action.
Drawing on both neuroscience and theology, Santos-Rolón (2025, 5) pursues a rationally grounded, fully intellectual, and therefore also spiritual goal, namely, “the project of healing the colonial wounds that we all carry collectively and individually on our minds and brains and . . . our bodies.” He argues that “our affective-cognitive systems function like a sort of generative grammar that gives moral and ontological weight and texture to our perceptual reality” (Santos-Rolón 2025, 10). These grammars are shaped by the historical and cultural milieus we grow up in and with. Reshaping these, such as decolonizing our emotions, requires transformation of “our holistic embodied selves” (Santos-Rolón 2025, 36). Based on neuroscience, Santos-Rolón (2025, 36) contends that religious symbols, rituals, narratives, and practices can have the power to achieve that.
Much like Vítor Westhelle (2012), Santos-Rolón emphasizes the importance of space in theology—often neglected in traditional Western theology. Theology needs to pay more attention to categories of place, such as the margins (eschata) and space between spaces (chora), if it wants to speak about justification and justice to those dwelling on the margins and in the space between spaces. This includes those suffering the bitter consequences of colonization, those pushed between places and no-places in times of global migration, and those disenfranchised, left out, and left behind in the world of algorithms.
Santos-Rolón (2025, 205) argues that the language that emerges from the experiences that take place in the margins (eschata) and the spatial cracks (chora)—spaces that are social, spiritual, psychological, and physical—has the potential to destabilize structures of oppression that are an expression of sin. He asks: “What if the task of theology is more than just constructing a rational and coherent articulation of the faith but also a poiesis, a midwifery of the soul, or, better yet, of embodied selves and worlds made of flesh and word?” (Santos-Rolón 2025, 223). In other words: Santos-Rolón tries to flesh out what a partnership between science, theology, and spirituality can be and do.
Let me add, very briefly indeed, yet another area where the partnership between science, technology, theology, and spirituality can make a difference, namely, the science of sustainability. It is not so well known that the term sustainability has roots in the world of the Church, more precisely in the World Council of Churches of the 1970s (Brown 2015 and Conradie 2023). From there, it made its way into the famous Brundtland report in 1987 (Meireis 2015, 3f). Since then, sustainability has largely been defined in terms of ecology, economy, and sociology.
There is some current research, however, that signals awareness of the link between spirituality and sustainability and the benefits of including spirituality in research and teaching on sustainability (Leal Filho et al. 2022). It can be argued that better integration of spirituality and sustainability leads to more effective and sustainable strategies for future development (Luetz and Nunn 2023).
Given this and the fact that more than eighty percent of the world’s population has a religious affiliation, there is a strong case for expanding traditional understandings of the concept of sustainability to include a fourth dimension: spiritual sustainability alongside ecological, economic, and social aspects. The significance and “added value” of spiritual sustainability has been explored in an official study on forestry by the Church of Sweden (Jackelén and Wejryd 2024). The concept of spiritual sustainability has gained attention even beyond the dealings of the church. The municipality of Ljusdal in Sweden has adopted this broadened concept. According to the sustainability policy for their tourist destination Järvsö, they strive for ecological, social, economic, cultural, and existential/spiritual sustainability (Ljusdals kommun 2024, 2).
Concluding Remarks: Fostering a Spirituality of Hope
I have argued elsewhere that we need a spirituality of coexistence, resilience, and hope (Jackelén 2021). Here, I will restrict myself to sharing some thoughts about a spirituality of hope.
Cultivating a spirituality of hope will enable us to counter narratives of hate and fear with narratives of love and courage—urgently needed in times of polycrisis. Hope is both a gift and a virtue. It works like a muscle: a muscle is a gift in your body, but you need to train and exercise to develop and maintain its strength. The same applies to hope: train it, practice it!
Hope differs from optimism. Optimism, as well as pessimism, builds on what we already know. Optimism extrapolates those facts that we regard as positive at the present time. Optimism is often fascinated by statistics. It loves graphs, especially when they point in the right direction.
Both optimism and pessimism build a lot on statistics, which can lead into deception. After all, we have all heard of “lies, damned lies, and statistics.” But hope can be deceitful, too. Like all human endeavors, even such a good thing as hope can take a wrong turn, be distorted, and be abused. And yet, there is an important difference between optimism and hope. While optimism extrapolates the trend, hope is the practice of spotting the promise. Optimism aims at extending reality, while hope wants to change it. Optimism draws conclusions based on the known; hope looks forward in anticipation, finding ways of dealing constructively with that which we do not and cannot know. Hope draws on the best knowledge available, whether it comes from science or theology or the dialogue between various disciplines. It combines ratio and intellectus in a deeply sustainable way.
Hope embodies a threefold potential. First, hope does not close its eyes to that which can elicit despair. Rather, hope holds the power to harbor anger, grief, and frustration over that which is and goes wrong in how humans take care of each other and this world and planet. Second, hope relates wisely both to our strength, power, ingenuity, and creativity and to our vulnerability, weakness, destructivity, and mortality. Hope is realistic and humble. And third, on most occasions, we are still left with choices. Hope empowers us to make a choice that remains a possibility in most situations: to choose the path of courage rather than a different one. Powerful, humble, courageous—that is what hope is (Jackelén 2024b, 149–59).
While optimism rejoices at the continuity of a graph moving in the right direction, hope sees meaning despite and through the leaps and cracks of discontinuity. After all, as Leonard Cohen (1992) has taught us about the crack: “That’s how the light gets in.”
Is this just words? Yes. But words matter! Words shape thoughts. Thoughts shape ideas. Ideas shape policies. Policies shape actions. Actions shape societies. In the beginning was the Word—as a famous phrase in a wise and influential book puts it (John 1:1). This rings true, even as we strive for the necessary partnership of science, technology, theology, and spirituality. Therefore, staying in conversation with and about that which is of ultimate concern—keeping in mind that faith is “the state of being ultimately concerned” (Tillich 1957, 4)—will keep our humanity and inspire necessary action. And therefore, such institutions as the Boyle Lecture are worth our care and efforts. Thank you for your attention!
Acknowledgments
This article was originally written as the 2025 Boyle Lecture, delivered at the Church of St. Mary-le-Bow on Cheapside in the City of London, UK, on February 17, 2025. Arthur Petersen offered the response on that occasion. The digital premiere via YouTube (ISSR 2025 Boyle Lecture on Science and Religion – The Most Reverend Dr Antje Jackelén) took place on March 19, 2025 and was followed by a live online panel discussion with contributions from Noreen Herzfeld and Andrew Briggs, chaired by International Society for Science and Religion president Niels Henrik Gregersen. I wish to express my gratitude to the local organizers, to the International Society for Science and Religion for their invitation, to Fraser Watts for his support throughout the process, and to Arthur Petersen and the panelists.
Notes
- By religiosity, I refer to various degrees of theoretical and practical engagement with religious traditions. By spirituality, I refer to the habitus of cultivating spiritual (existential) gifts and needs in embodied selves. This can occur within or outside religious traditions. It is analogous to a broad understanding of the concept of praxis pietatis in Christian tradition. [^]
- Cf. the series of articles on AI and religion in Zygon: Journal of Religion and Science 57 (4): 933–1018, as introduced and summarized by Andrea Vestrucci (2022). [^]
References
Bender, Emily M., Timnit Gebru, Angelina McMillan-Major, and Shmargaret Shmitchell. 2021. “On the Dangers of Stochastic Parrots: Can Language Models Be Too Big?” In FAccT ‘21: Proceedings of the 2021 ACM Conference on Fairness, Accountability, and Transparency, 610–23. New York: Association for Computing Machinery. http://doi.org/10.1145/3442188.3445922.
Brooke, John Hedley. 1991. Science and Religion: Some Historical Perspectives. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Brown, Stephen. 2015. “Sustainability and Environment: How the Ecumenical Movement Helped Mobilize Ecology Protest in East Germany.” World Council of Churches, January 27. https://www.oikoumene.org/news/sustainability-and-environment-how-the-ecumenical-movement-helped-mobilize-ecology-protest-in-east-germany.
Cohen, Leonard. 1992. “Anthem.” https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/leonardcohen/anthem.html.
Conradie, Ernst M. 2023. “What, Exactly, Needs to be Sustained amidst a Changing Climate?” In Global Sustainability: Science and Religion in Dialogue, edited by Michael Fuller, Mark Harris, Joanna Leidenhag, and Anne Runehov, 25–40. Cham, Switzerland: Springer.
Dorobantu, Marius. 2024. “Artificial Intelligence and Christianity: Friends or Foes?” In The Cambridge Companion to Religion and Artificial Intelligence, edited by Beth Singler and Fraser Watts, 88–108. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Freud, Sigmund. 1917. Eine Schwierigkeit der Psychoanalyse. https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/29097/pg29097-images.html.
Gärdenfors, Peter. 2024. Kan AI tänka? Om människor, djur och robotar. Stockholm: Fri tanke.
Haraway, Donna J. 2008. When Species Meet. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.
Jackelén, Antje. 2002. “The Image of God as Techno Sapiens.” Zygon: Journal of Religion and Science 37(2): 289–302.
Jackelén, Antje. 2008. “An Intellectually Honest Theology.” Zygon: Journal of Religion and Science 43 (1): 43–55.
Jackelén, Antje. 2021. “Technology, Theology, and Spirituality in the Digital Age.” Zygon: Journal of Religion and Science 56 (1): 6–18.
Jackelén, Antje. 2023. “Cinco p’s venenosos e seus remédios—considerações teólogicas para uma era digital.” In As Humanidades em tempos de pós-verdade, edited by Rudolf von Sinner, Etiane Caloy Bovkalovski, and Geovani Viola Moretto Mendes, translated by Luís Marcos Sander, 97–122. Curitiba, Brazil: Pucpress.
Jackelén, Antje. 2024a. Tio tankar för själens hunger. Stockholm: Romanus & Selling.
Jackelén, Antje. 2024b. ”Är samtalet möjligt? AI och Kommunikation om eviga frågor.” In AI och samtalet om de stora frågorna, edited by Amanda Lagerkvist, 30–45. Göteborg: Makadam.
Jackelén, Antje, and Anders Wejryd. 2024. “Om betydelsen av andlig hållbarhet: Reflektioner med anledning av Svenska kyrkans skogsutredning.” Kyrkan och skogen: Ansvar, handling och hopp. Svenska kyrkans utredningar 2024 (2): 140–51. https://www.svenskakyrkan.se/filer/1374643/SKU%202024%202%20Kyrkan%20och%20skogen%20–%20ansvar,%20handling%20och%20hopp.pdf.
Keller, Werner. 1955. Und die Bibel hat doch recht: Forscher beweisen die historische Wahrheit. Düsseldorf: Econ-Verlag. [In English: Keller, Werner. 1956. The Bible as History: Archaeology Confirms the Book of Books. London: Hodder & Stoughton.].
Leal Filho, Walter, Amanda Lange Salvia, Rohana Ulluwishewa, et al. 2022. “Linking Sustainability and Spirituality: A Preliminary Assessment in Pursuit of a Sustainable and Ethically Correct World.” Journal of Cleaner Production 380 (2):135091.
Ljusdals kommun. 2024. Hållbarhetspolicy Järvsö. https://www.ljusdal.se/download/18.50f1ec7b192b8d3e1f37f00/1729691076307/Hållbarhetspolicy%20Green%20Team%202024_swe%20signerat.pdf.
Luetz, Johannes M., and Patrick D. Nunn. 2023. “Spirituality and Sustainable Development: An Entangled and Neglected Relationship.” Sustainability Science 18:2035–42.
Meireis, Torsten. 2015. On the Road. Der Pilgerweg der Gerechtigkeit und des Friedens als transformative Herausforderung.
Renström, Erik. 2024. “Artificial Intelligence and Co-Intelligence during Trip to Singapore.” Lund University, November 26. https://www.staff.lu.se/article/artificial-intelligence-and-co-intelligence-during-trip-singapore.
Rosa, Hartmut. 2020. The Uncontrollability of the World. Cambridge: Polity Press. [German original: Rosa, Hartmut. 2018. Unverfügbarkeit. Wien und Salzburg: Residenz Verlag].
Russell, Robert J., William R. Stoeger, and George V. Coyne, eds. 1988. Physics, Philosophy, and Theology: A Common Quest for Understanding. Vatican City State: Vatican Observatory.
Santos-Rolón, Carmelo. 2025. A Liberation Theology of the Brain: Neuroscience, Theology, and Decolonizing Emotions. Minneapolis: Fortress Press.
Singler, Beth. 2024. “The Anthropology and Sociology of Religion and AI.” In The Cambridge Companion to Religion and Artificial Intelligence, edited by Beth Singler and Fraser Watts, 223–40. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Snow, C. P. 1959. The Two Cultures and the Scientific Revolution. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Sprat, Thomas. 1958. History of the Royal Society. Edited by Jackson I. Cope and Harold Whitmore Jones. St. Louis, MI: Washington University Press.
Tillich, Paul. 1957. Dynamics of Faith. New York: Harper & Row.
Tudor, Matilda, Pedro Sanches, Teresa Cerratto-Pargman, and Amanda Lagerkvist. 2024. “Att forma levande AI-framtider.” In AI och samtalet om de stora frågorna, edited by Amanda Lagerkvist, 86–97. Göteborg: Makadam.
Vestrucci, Andrea, 2022. “Introduction: Five Steps toward a Religion–AI Dialogue.” Zygon: Journal of Religion and Science 57 (4): 933–37.
von Weizsäcker, Carl Friedrich. 1983. Wahrnehmung der Neuzeit. München: Carl Hanser Verlag.
von Wright, Georg Henrik. 1986. Vetenskapen och förnuftet. Stockholm: Bonniers.
Watts, Fraser. 2024. “Cognitive Modelling of Spiritual Practices.” In The Cambridge Companion to Religion and Artificial Intelligence, edited by Beth Singler and Fraser Watts, 257–74. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Watts, Fraser, Anthony Nairn, and Arthur C. Petersen. 2022. “Science, Religion, and Culture.” Zygon: Journal of Religion and Science 57 (4): 838–48.
Westhelle, Vítor. 2012. Eschatology and Space: The Lost Dimension in Theology Past and Present. New York: Palgrave Macmillan.