I’ve avoided all other commentary on this encyclical because I haven’t had time to read it myself and most internet Catholics are being trendy speaking about the latest thing. Your piece was the exception because you don’t speak unless there’s something important say, and this piece continued that record. Thanks for the contribution.
I'm so grateful for this essay, Sr Theresa. You're an extraordinary writer, and like you, I believe that there is hope in this encyclical! I need to study it more. Little by little, mercy and justice will be realized! Love in Jesus and our Blessed Mom, ~Laura
Amen and Amen. To safeguard humanity we need to protect and preserve the dignity of persons who are silenced by both machines and power-hungry madmen. The best way to do this is to refuse to demonize victims and instead give them a voice. You are doing just this, Sisters. More and more, survivors are standing up and guilty by-standers are listening. May God have mercy on us all as we work towards peace with justice.
I'm one of those Catholics who admits to have never read any official Encyclicals or documents from the Vatican but most likely have encountered bits and pieces of said documents along the way, mostly through the Catechism of the Catholic Church. As I imagine a strong mind may have to prepare well for these prescribed unusual movements, as true wisdom has a formative and lasting effect on a good soul.
At that, I can say I read your essay about the Holy Father, Pope Leo XIV's encyclical Magnifica Humanitas and my thank you seems shallow and not complete at this full watershed moment we share. I've only known of your community for weeks but I want to call you all friends. I may be wrong though I understand your apostolate is about recovery from any form of abuse (primarily abuse within the Church) that provides a fabric that defines and describes overcoming our deficiencies and disconnects in teaching the Way to one another. I'm uncertain how justice is balanced in recovery from our haste to cut corners, though, unless it ought to begin at the major roles. Recognizing the reality of suffering communion together, will unmistakably inform us through thoughtful care to that hopeful witness to the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
About the image created by Sr. Danielle Victoria, the line drawings of three dimensional cubes that to me make a bit of a statement perhaps of how a hierarchy of a community of faith lives. I enjoyed viewing your art work Sister.
The cube holding the Chair of Peter (I presume) is the only one in perspective. It connects first to a song bird cube that connects further away to a cube holding a sheep in dim lighting. I'm good with identifying myself to the sheep in dim lighting, by the way.
A much-appreciated introduction to the heart of the encyclical. Thank you. I’d commented on it thus, last week, before it was published, just from encouraging hearsay: https://pomalom.substack.com/p/ai-and-the-church
What strikes me most about this essay is how easily it accepts the underlying premise of Leo's project without ever seriously questioning it.
Artificial Intelligence is, and will always remain, a tool. It may become extraordinarily sophisticated. It may surpass human beings in certain forms of calculation, pattern recognition, and data processing. It may even simulate creativity and conversation with startling effectiveness. But it will never become human because it lacks the one thing that fundamentally distinguishes man from every machine: consciousness.
AI does not possess a soul. It does not possess self-awareness. It does not love, suffer, sacrifice, repent, worship, or contemplate God. It processes inputs and produces outputs. It is an instrument, not a person.
Consequently, much of the anxiety surrounding AI often reflects a deeper confusion about the nature of man himself. The threat is not that machines will become human. The threat is that humans will begin to think of themselves as machines.
That is why I find much of the discussion surrounding this encyclical unsatisfying. Like so much contemporary ecclesial discourse, it consists largely of a collection of abstractions, platitudes, and carefully crafted humanitarian language centered on "human dignity," "justice," "inclusion," "safeguarding," and "human flourishing."
None of these things are false. But they are incomplete.
The deeper problem is that the entire conversation remains relentlessly man-centered. We are told about the dignity of man, the rights of man, the protection of man, the flourishing of man, the wounds of man, and the aspirations of man. Yet one is left asking: where is Christ in all of this?
The Church does not exist primarily to affirm human dignity. The Church exists to proclaim Jesus Christ.
The Church does not exist primarily to safeguard humanity from technological disruption. The Church exists to bring souls to salvation.
The Church does not exist primarily to construct a more just world. The Church exists to call men to conversion, repentance, holiness, and eternal life.
The modern tendency—one that did not begin with Leo but has accelerated under successive pontificates—is to begin with man and work upward toward God. Historically, Catholicism began with God and from that foundation derived a proper understanding of man.
That distinction is not trivial.
When Christ is placed at the center, human dignity finds its proper foundation. Justice finds its proper meaning. Technology finds its proper limits. Society finds its proper order.
When man is placed at the center, even noble concepts gradually become detached from their supernatural source and are transformed into a religiously flavored humanism.
This is why so much contemporary Catholic language often sounds indistinguishable from the rhetoric of NGOs, international organizations, academic institutions, and secular humanitarian movements. The vocabulary is similar because the focus has become similar.
The answer to the challenges posed by AI is not the elevation of man. The answer is the elevation of Christ.
A civilization that remembers Christ will use technology properly because it understands what man is.
A civilization that forgets Christ will misuse technology because it no longer understands what man is.
The real crisis is not artificial intelligence.
The real crisis is spiritual amnesia.
The Church's task is not merely to remind the world that man possesses dignity. Countless secular institutions already say that.
The Church's unique mission is to remind the world why man possesses dignity: because he was created by God, redeemed by Christ, and destined for eternity.
Without that foundation, discussions of dignity, justice, and safeguarding become little more than sophisticated word salads—pleasant sounding, emotionally satisfying, but ultimately incapable of addressing the deepest hunger of the human soul.
The solution to our technological age is the same solution the Church has always offered:
I’ve avoided all other commentary on this encyclical because I haven’t had time to read it myself and most internet Catholics are being trendy speaking about the latest thing. Your piece was the exception because you don’t speak unless there’s something important say, and this piece continued that record. Thanks for the contribution.
I'm so grateful for this essay, Sr Theresa. You're an extraordinary writer, and like you, I believe that there is hope in this encyclical! I need to study it more. Little by little, mercy and justice will be realized! Love in Jesus and our Blessed Mom, ~Laura
Amen
Amen and Amen. To safeguard humanity we need to protect and preserve the dignity of persons who are silenced by both machines and power-hungry madmen. The best way to do this is to refuse to demonize victims and instead give them a voice. You are doing just this, Sisters. More and more, survivors are standing up and guilty by-standers are listening. May God have mercy on us all as we work towards peace with justice.
Amen and thank you for your support!
I'm one of those Catholics who admits to have never read any official Encyclicals or documents from the Vatican but most likely have encountered bits and pieces of said documents along the way, mostly through the Catechism of the Catholic Church. As I imagine a strong mind may have to prepare well for these prescribed unusual movements, as true wisdom has a formative and lasting effect on a good soul.
At that, I can say I read your essay about the Holy Father, Pope Leo XIV's encyclical Magnifica Humanitas and my thank you seems shallow and not complete at this full watershed moment we share. I've only known of your community for weeks but I want to call you all friends. I may be wrong though I understand your apostolate is about recovery from any form of abuse (primarily abuse within the Church) that provides a fabric that defines and describes overcoming our deficiencies and disconnects in teaching the Way to one another. I'm uncertain how justice is balanced in recovery from our haste to cut corners, though, unless it ought to begin at the major roles. Recognizing the reality of suffering communion together, will unmistakably inform us through thoughtful care to that hopeful witness to the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
About the image created by Sr. Danielle Victoria, the line drawings of three dimensional cubes that to me make a bit of a statement perhaps of how a hierarchy of a community of faith lives. I enjoyed viewing your art work Sister.
The cube holding the Chair of Peter (I presume) is the only one in perspective. It connects first to a song bird cube that connects further away to a cube holding a sheep in dim lighting. I'm good with identifying myself to the sheep in dim lighting, by the way.
A much-appreciated introduction to the heart of the encyclical. Thank you. I’d commented on it thus, last week, before it was published, just from encouraging hearsay: https://pomalom.substack.com/p/ai-and-the-church
What strikes me most about this essay is how easily it accepts the underlying premise of Leo's project without ever seriously questioning it.
Artificial Intelligence is, and will always remain, a tool. It may become extraordinarily sophisticated. It may surpass human beings in certain forms of calculation, pattern recognition, and data processing. It may even simulate creativity and conversation with startling effectiveness. But it will never become human because it lacks the one thing that fundamentally distinguishes man from every machine: consciousness.
AI does not possess a soul. It does not possess self-awareness. It does not love, suffer, sacrifice, repent, worship, or contemplate God. It processes inputs and produces outputs. It is an instrument, not a person.
Consequently, much of the anxiety surrounding AI often reflects a deeper confusion about the nature of man himself. The threat is not that machines will become human. The threat is that humans will begin to think of themselves as machines.
That is why I find much of the discussion surrounding this encyclical unsatisfying. Like so much contemporary ecclesial discourse, it consists largely of a collection of abstractions, platitudes, and carefully crafted humanitarian language centered on "human dignity," "justice," "inclusion," "safeguarding," and "human flourishing."
None of these things are false. But they are incomplete.
The deeper problem is that the entire conversation remains relentlessly man-centered. We are told about the dignity of man, the rights of man, the protection of man, the flourishing of man, the wounds of man, and the aspirations of man. Yet one is left asking: where is Christ in all of this?
The Church does not exist primarily to affirm human dignity. The Church exists to proclaim Jesus Christ.
The Church does not exist primarily to safeguard humanity from technological disruption. The Church exists to bring souls to salvation.
The Church does not exist primarily to construct a more just world. The Church exists to call men to conversion, repentance, holiness, and eternal life.
The modern tendency—one that did not begin with Leo but has accelerated under successive pontificates—is to begin with man and work upward toward God. Historically, Catholicism began with God and from that foundation derived a proper understanding of man.
That distinction is not trivial.
When Christ is placed at the center, human dignity finds its proper foundation. Justice finds its proper meaning. Technology finds its proper limits. Society finds its proper order.
When man is placed at the center, even noble concepts gradually become detached from their supernatural source and are transformed into a religiously flavored humanism.
This is why so much contemporary Catholic language often sounds indistinguishable from the rhetoric of NGOs, international organizations, academic institutions, and secular humanitarian movements. The vocabulary is similar because the focus has become similar.
The answer to the challenges posed by AI is not the elevation of man. The answer is the elevation of Christ.
A civilization that remembers Christ will use technology properly because it understands what man is.
A civilization that forgets Christ will misuse technology because it no longer understands what man is.
The real crisis is not artificial intelligence.
The real crisis is spiritual amnesia.
The Church's task is not merely to remind the world that man possesses dignity. Countless secular institutions already say that.
The Church's unique mission is to remind the world why man possesses dignity: because he was created by God, redeemed by Christ, and destined for eternity.
Without that foundation, discussions of dignity, justice, and safeguarding become little more than sophisticated word salads—pleasant sounding, emotionally satisfying, but ultimately incapable of addressing the deepest hunger of the human soul.
The solution to our technological age is the same solution the Church has always offered:
Not more faith in man.
Not more confidence in systems.
Not better algorithms.
But Jesus Christ, yesterday, today, and forever.