Spirit mediums and séances form the beating heart of Caodaist worship, acting as a bridge between the living community and a cosmic council of saints, sages, and even literary figures. Once a month, or more often during special festivals at the Tây Ninh Holy See, trained mediums slip into trance, allowing heavenly messengers—from Confucius to Victor Hugo—to speak “straight from the horse’s mouth.” Messages received guide everything from liturgical music to moral edicts, keeping doctrine alive and adaptable.

Séances themselves aren’t eerie parlor games but structured rituals. The medium sits before a set of wooden sticks or a “spirit tabla,” asking questions that spirits answer by rattling sticks or guiding the medium’s pen. These communiqués get transcribed, debated by clergy, and woven into Caodaist teachings. It’s like updating a spiritual software: each revelation patches gaps, clarifies ambiguities, or introduces new ethical insights.

Mediums enjoy a unique status. They’re community pillars—consulted on family disputes, health crises, or major life decisions. During the COVID-19 pandemic, Caodaist congregations in Texas and France even experimented with Zoom séances, proving that the spirit world adapts as nimbly as any human institution. That willingness to embrace modern tech keeps the faith from gathering dust on a historical shelf.

There’s also an ecological twist: recent spirit messages have urged stronger environmental stewardship, echoing global conversations about climate change. In that sense, Caodaism’s séances aren’t relics but something like a spiritual think tank, where ancient wisdom meets contemporary challenges head-on.

Far from being mere spectacle, these trance sessions knit the community together. They remind everyone that, in Caodai eyes, existence is a two-way street: the living learn from the departed—and, every now and then, the departed learn a thing or two from the living.