“Jesus said to the crowds: ‘I am the living bread come down from heaven. Whoever eats this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give is my flesh for the life of the world.’” (Jn. 6:51). Last week, we explored the central mystery of the Church as we celebrated the Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity. Today, we celebrate another important mystery of our faith: the magnificent gift of the body and blood of Christ given to us to remind us of his continued presence in our lives as we celebrate the Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ (also known as Corpus Christi Sunday). Not surprisingly, Pope Leo XIV refers to this Eucharistic mystery frequently in his new encyclical, Magnifica Humanitas, since this Divine mystery helps us to understand the vast difference between humanity and artificial intelligence. Allow me to offer some of his teaching in this regard for your reflection:
In the very first paragraph of his encyclical, Pope Leo writes: “we Christians lift our eyes to the Incarnate God, knowing that it is ‘only in the mystery of the Word made flesh that the mystery of humanity truly becomes clear.’ In Jesus Christ, this humanity in its grandeur becomes the Way, the Truth and the Life, opening the path for each of us to grow toward fullness.” Our Holy Father goes on to explain that we “must lovingly safeguard the grandeur of humanity bestowed upon us and revealed in its fullness in Christ, the splendor of which no machine can ever replace” (§ 15). Pope Leo recalls for us that the mystery of God as Love finds “its most concrete expression in the face of Jesus Christ, the Incarnate Word” (§ 49) who offers us himself most clearly in the Eucharist. Although he recognizes that:
[I]t is not possible to provide a single, comprehensive definition of AI. What can be stated, however, is that we must avoid the misconception of equating this type of “intelligence” with that of human beings. These systems merely imitate certain functions of human intelligence. In doing so, they often surpass human intelligence in speed and computational capacity, offering tangible benefits across many fields. Yet this power remains entirely tied to data processing. So-called artificial intelligences do not undergo experiences, do not possess a body, do not feel joy or pain, do not mature through relationships and do not know from within what love, work, friendship or responsibility mean. Nor do they have a moral conscience, since they do not judge good and evil, grasp the ultimate meaning of situations, or bear responsibility for consequences. They may imitate language, behavior and analytical skills, or even simulate empathy and understanding, but they do not understand what they produce, for they lack the affective, relational and spiritual perspective through which human beings grow in wisdom. Even when these tools are described as capable of “learning,” their way of doing so is different from that of a human person. It is not the experience of those who allow themselves to be shaped by life and grow over time through choices, mistakes, forgiveness and fidelity. Rather, it is a form of statistical adaptation based on data and feedback, which can be very effective, but does not imply inner growth (§ 99).
Our Holy Father goes on to write about a very important aspect of our faith: the value of suffering, particularly in light of the salvific power of Christ’s suffering and death on the cross for us:
Our relationship with life seems to be in crisis today. Everything that appears as a “limit” — incapacity, illness, old age, suffering, vulnerability — tends to be seen primarily as a defect to be corrected, rather than as a reality through which our humanity matures and opens itself to relationship. And yet we must remember that humanity flourishes not despite limitations, but often through them. The light of faith offers a perspective on reality that helps us recognize what we call the “contingency” of the things of this world. While it is right to strive to alleviate the suffering that marks human life, it is also wise to acknowledge our fundamental finitude, knowing that “religious experience, and in particular Christian faith, propose that we live, without oversimplification, this ambivalence between human greatness and limitation, interpreting it in the light of our original and fundamental relationship with God” (§ 118).
It is precisely within our limitations that the following find a place: compassion, as well as a sincere concern for the needs of others; a generosity that can emerge even in the midst of darkness and failure; spiritual experience and the worship of God. We see this at many moments when our limits become tangible: when we face rejection, when we suffer the illness or loss of a loved one, when we encounter our own weakness or failure. Mysteriously, it is precisely in such moments that we can discover a new wisdom, tangibly experience the closeness of others and encounter the presence of the Lord (§ 119).
In today’s celebration of the Body and Blood of Christ, we recall that it was on the night before he was to suffer a most cruel scourging and crucifixion to save us. With all of this as background, our Holy Father goes on to discuss the effects of AI on a wide variety of contemporary issues including its use in education, in the workplace and in war. He then offers some very thought provoking concluding thoughts:
I invite everyone to contemplate, in the face of the Son of God, the grandeur of humanity that shines a light also on the era of AI. In Christ, we are called to cooperate in the work of creation, rather than be disinterested observers of technological processes that limit our freedom and responsibility. The dignity inscribed in each of us by the Holy Spirit can also be seen in our capacity to reflect critically, choose and love freely, and form authentic relationships. No computational system, however sophisticated, can create a heart that gives itself, or a conscience that discerns good from evil. Even when machines excel in efficiency, a human face that asks to be gazed upon remains the center of our history. This human face is the fullness toward which history is moving. It is the mystery of recapitulation: the certainty that the Father has decreed to bring all things, those in heaven and those on earth, back to Christ, the one Head (cf. Eph 1:10). In this plan, nothing will be lost that is authentically human. Indeed, everything will be purified and reunited in the One, who gathers every fragment of life, every tear and every authentically human achievement, rescuing them from nothingness and delivering them, redeemed, to the Father (§ 233).
The spirituality that we need is a Eucharistic spirituality, that is, a spirituality of ecclesial unity in love. The Incarnation and the Paschal Mystery reveal God entering into our human condition and transforming it through the gift of himself. This gift remains present and active in the Eucharist, in which the Lord gives himself and gathers the Church together, so that his offering becomes the principle of unity and source of new life (§ 234).
Whenever we receive Holy Communion, we do well to reflect on this sacred mystery, the “source and summit” of our faith and our worship. As we continue to navigate a world so much under the influence of AI, let us live this Eucharistic reality worthily, as we receive the Body and Blood of Christ, God truly present in our midst and our spiritual nourishment that strengthens us on the journey through this life to our eternal destiny – at the heavenly banquet!