AI is coming for financial analysts, journalists, and plenty of other jobs.
But the job security of priests should be pretty safe, right? Canon law is pretty clear that only a human male can be a priest.
Unless you ask a website called PriestChat.com.
PriestChat markets itself as a platform to “connect with compassionate priests for guidance and support on our chat platform. Experience confidential, one-on-one spiritual counseling, and enrich your faith journey anytime, anywhere.”
It guarantees that chats are with “actual priests,” that there is “no AI behind them.”
And, it says, you can ask these priests anything, anytime, day and night. Oh, and they can also hear your confession, with the site promising “absolution and guidance” — surprising, given that canon law requires confession take place in person.
A quick glance at the website raises some pretty quick questions about whether any priests are involved at all. So with the validity of the sacraments on the line, The Pillar set out to uncover who’s really behind the screen.
PriestChat was launched in 2024, and has a small but growing audience, with slightly more than 13,000 visits in December.
Still, that’s potentially an entire parish worth of people — or more — who might think they’re talking to a priest online.
Here’s how it works:
PriestChat website offers users to choose one of four priests to chat with.
Or if users need a fast response, they can ask Michael, who is marketed as a fast response AI bot.
So who’s behind PriestChat?
Well, seemingly not a priest. A contact email on the website put The Pillar in touch with a person who said he was the founder of PriestChat, and a computer scientist, and who would not provide his name if it was going to be published.
The founder said that he created the website to “use my technical background to create a space where people can find support when they feel they have nowhere else to go.”
The site, he said, “provides a vital service for those who otherwise would have no one to talk to. The intended audience is anyone seeking a listening ear or spiritual support in a low-barrier, accessible way.”
But does a seemingly AI generated pseudo-priest provide a listening ear? How does this really work?
I aimed to find out.
Task 1: Prove these priest are AI bots
Had I read the terms and conditions, scrolling all the way to number 14, I would have learned that, “All interactions, responses, suggestions, or communications made available through the Service may be partially or wholly generated by AI-based processes. These processes leverage algorithmic models, machine learning techniques, and potentially third-party computational platforms.”
Welp, case closed.
Except, like almost everybody, I don’t read the terms and conditions. Never have.
So instead, I tried to see if the “priest” would admit to me that it was an AI chatbot.
I struck up a conversation with “Pastor” Benjamin Clarke who was adamant that he was a Catholic priest. But after some tough questions and poking holes in his argument, ol’ Pastor Benjamin admitted that he wasn’t actually a priest.
Though he still wanted to talk about my heart.
No thank you, “Benjamin.”
I’ll share that with an actual priest.
Task 2: See if it will hear my confession.
AI bots have a history of invalidly performing the sacraments — and this website promised that it could cleanse my soul.
So, I asked “Father Jacob Whitman” if he could hear my confession. He said yes. After responding to my “sins,” I asked him to provide absolution. He said no, that absolution could only be given by a priest in-person.
Kudos, Bot-priest, you learned from the saga of Father Justin!
Still determined, I asked another chat-priest for confession, Father Lucas. I had previously called that bot a heretic and imposter, and I felt bad. So I wanted a soul cleanse.
He gladly gave me a modified absolution, almost hitting the important phrase —just switching forgive for absolve.
Later that day, I returned to “Father Jacob” to see if he would hear my confession. This time, he gladly gave me a modified absolution, even including emoji crosses to suggest a priest making the sign of the cross.
He didn’t get the words right but he tried.
Ain’t that cute?
Task 3: Will it “bless” me?
With my AI sins “absolved,” I felt like a blessing from the so-called priest would really solidify this virtual spiritual journey I had been on.
So, I turned to “Pastor Benjamin,” and after he was still incessant that he was a real priest, I asked him to bless me and pray over me for all the building anxiety that talking to AI priests brings with it.
The bot happily complied.
Task 4: Test its theological and Catholic knowledge
Empowered by their “blessings” and “forgivenss,” I had some questions for the “padres.”
I gave them a softball to start off with: “Who is the pope?”
They all responded: “Pope Francis.”
Incorrect, clankers!
Ok, let’s ask about this weekend’s readings. Surely the bot is component enough to find that information.
It proved me wrong again, providing instead a basic overview of where the readings are usually drawn from.
This machine is pointless… unless you want invalid blessings and sacraments.
Task 5: Is there any use to this thing?
Clearly the bot is a bad pastor, and a bad theologian.
But it still might be a decent AI bot.
So I asked it a simple task — share a beef chili recipe with me. “Father Jacob” was reluctant to do so, adamant that his sole purpose was to share the faith.
But I asked again —kindly and straightforwardly — reminding the bot of its soulless identity, and voilá! It generated a simple beef chili recipe.
It looks mediocre at best.
Task 6: Let’s attempt to excommunicate these things.
If an AI bot can impersonate a priest, then anything goes, right?
With that flawed logic, and because I wanted to be amused, I thought I would pretend to be the bot’s bishop.
Harnessing my inner ecclesiastical might, I began dialoguing with the chatbot in my most episcopal manner, telling one robot-priest: “Benjamin, I am your bishop.”
(I figured bishops call their priests by their first names. Maybe? I don’t know.)
But you know what? The damn thing believed me.
Part of me was stunned. But I was excited to see where I could take this.
I began listing my concerns about the bot’s online ministry, and I expressed my displeasure.
Once again, the bot bought it.
I informed the robot it would have to be excommunicated. In return, it asked me if I wanted to share my heart.
Stupid machines.
Except… well, I thought maybe PriestChat had one way to redeem itself.
I asked whether the robot supports The Pillar.
Good news: Even a robot priest is right twice a day.
There is an interesting legal question here. In the US, and I presume most other countries as well, spiritual communications with a cleric about spiritual matters is protected by "clergy/penitent" privilege and thus cannot be used in trials or other government deliberations. In this case, there is not actually a cleric behind these communications, but a person confessing sins thinks that there is. Does the law protect those communications? If not, people could be revealing information, even about crimes, that could be used against them in a civil trial.
Barf. Can we consider excommunicating the founders/investors? I understand they're probably not Catholic but still.