Keeping people at the center: the words of a Silicon Valley bishop

Psalms 115:4–8

⁴Their idols are silver and gold, the work of human hands. ⁵They have mouths but do not speak, they have eyes but do not see. ⁶They have ears but cannot hear, they have nostrils but cannot smell. ⁷They have hands but do not touch, they have feet but do not walk, they make no sound from their throats. ⁸May those who create them and anyone who confides in them resemble them.

James 5:4

⁴Behold, he cries out against you, the wages with which you failed to pay the workers who mowed your fields, and the cries of the harvesters have reached the ears of the Lord of Hosts.

Acts 19:24–34

²⁴A goldsmith named Demetrius made small temples of Diana out of silver and provided his workers with a considerable profit. ²⁵Having gathered them together, along with others of the same trade, he said to them: «My friends, you know that our well-being depends on this industry, ²⁶And you see and hear that not only in Ephesus, but also in almost all Asia, this Paul has persuaded and turned away a great many people, saying that gods made with hands are not gods. ²⁷It is therefore to be feared not only that our industry will fall into disrepute, but also that the temple of the great goddess Diana will be held in contempt and even that the majesty of her, revered by Asia and the entire world, will be reduced to nothing.» ²⁸At these words, overcome with anger, they began to shout: "Great is Diana of the Ephesians!" ²⁹Soon the city was filled with confusion. They all went together to the theater, bringing with them Gaius and Aristarchus, Macedonians, who had accompanied Paul on his journey. ³⁰Paul wanted to enter the crowd, but the disciples prevented him. ³¹Some of the Asian arches, who were his friends, even sent messages to him, urging him not to appear at the theater. ³²A thousand different cries could be heard, for disorder reigned in the assembly and most did not know why they had gathered. ³³Then Alexander, whom the Jews were pushing forward, was pulled from the crowd. He gestured with his hand that he wanted to speak to the people. ³⁴But when they realized that he was Jewish, they all shouted with one voice for nearly two hours: "Great is Artemis of the Ephesians!""

A bishop in the heart of the valley

A matter of principles, not gadgets.

It's no coincidence that the American Church entrusted its work on artificial intelligence to the bishop of the place where this technology is being developed. Bishop Oscar Cantú leads the Diocese of San Jose, whose territory includes Silicon Valley. In a recent interview, he puts forward a simple idea: the Church doesn't chase after novelties; it "operates with principles." This statement shifts the debate. It doesn't say "for" or "against" the machine. It asks what, in humanity, is non-negotiable.

For a Catholic, principles don't fall from the sky like slogans. They stem from a long engagement with Scripture, reason, and the experience of different peoples. Bishop Cantú offers a very concrete example: tools must not replace human creativity or human interaction. The line is clear. Software can help a priest organize his archives. It cannot preach in his place or comfort the sick. What's at stake is the difference between assisting someone and replacing them.

Imagine a parish that uses an assistant to translate its bulletin into three languages. No one will see a problem with that. Now imagine it entrusts the messages of condolence to families to a machine. Nothing is wrong with the words, and yet everything is empty, because someone is missing. Principles serve to draw this line before habit erases it.

Three verbs for a mission

On September 16, the administrative committee of the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops unanimously established a working group to "preserve human dignity in the age of artificial intelligence." A few hours earlier, some thirty bishops had listened for two and a half hours to seven experts from four technology companies. The discussion was conducted under the Chatham House Rule, which allows for frank and unattributed speech. This discretion speaks volumes: the listening is not for show, but to understand.

Bishop Cantú summarizes the mission in three points. The first is ongoing dialogue with those who design these systems. The second is advocacy for sensible legislation. The third is training, so that bishops and dioceses understand what this technology is, what it offers, and what it threatens. The group will also report to the Vatican commission on AI, headed by Cardinal Michael Czerny. The local Church is therefore not acting alone. It is part of a communion that extends beyond American borders.

These three principles reflect what Bishop Cantú calls the "marching orders" received from Leo XIV: to summon, to listen, to teach, to remind. These four verbs describe a pastoral approach, not an administration. The Pope laid its foundation in his first encyclical, Magnifica Humanitas, published in May 2016. In it, he calls for AI to be "disarmed," freed from the logic of domination, exclusion, or death. The word is strong, and it was chosen to awaken consciences. The American bishops are now trying to give it practical application.

Why dignity, and not just security?

One might think that the debate on AI boils down to security: avoiding bugs, malfunctions, and misuse. Leo XIV and Bishop Cantú go further. Dignity is not an option added to a finished product. It precedes all conception. Man is created in the image of God, and this image depends neither on his productivity nor his efficiency. John Paul II repeated this throughout his life: work is made for man, not man for work. The current encyclical extends this insight into the age of algorithms.

The Pope warns against a "technocratic paradigm." This refers to a way of thinking in which every problem has a technical solution, and where humanity ultimately adapts to the machine instead of the machine adapting to humanity. In his address to French authorities at the Élysée Palace on September 25, he reiterated his desire to place the human person at the heart of all reflection. Before UNESCO member states, he spoke of the risks of dehumanization linked to conflict, inequality, and new technologies. These appeals and the San José initiative stem from a single, overarching concern.

The face of the worker behind the algorithm

When idols have a mouth and don't speak

Cardinal Czerny reminded the bishops that businesses must care for their workers. The statement may seem commonplace, but it gets to the heart of the matter. Behind every "intelligent" system, there are people: overworked engineers, content moderators exposed to unbearable images, employees whose jobs are being eliminated, and authors and artists whose work served as raw material. To speak of dignity without mentioning them would be hypocritical.

The Bible has a word for that which comes from the hand of man and ultimately dominates him. The psalm describes the idols of the nations: «Their idols are silver and gold, the work of human hands. They have mouths, but cannot speak; they have eyes, but cannot see» (Psalm 115:4-5). The text continues with a terrifying statement: those who make them become like them (Psalm 115:8). The psalmist is not mocking the craftsmanship, for he knows that the artisan is skilled. He describes a reversal: the object made is imbued with an authority that only God possesses, and the maker begins to resemble what he has made.

A machine that produces language without ever saying anything about itself is a prime example of this unsettling resemblance. It has a mouth, in the sense that it produces sentences. It doesn't speak, in the sense that no one within it engages. The danger isn't that it will become a god, but that we, through weariness or convenience, will begin to speak like it: without risk, without a face, without responsibility. Bishop Cantú expresses it differently when he refuses to let the tool replace human encounter. The psalm, for its part, provides the deepest reason.

The salary that is retained

Scripture is also very concrete on the subject of work. The apostle James writes to the wealthy of his time: «The wages you paid the laborers who reaped your fields are crying out against you, and the cries of the harvesters have reached the ears of the Lord Almighty» (James 5:4). This verse is less frequently quoted than the great passages of social doctrine, but it possesses a rare power. It says that the wrong done to a worker is not merely an economic problem. It is a cry that rises up to God.

Let's apply this without forcing the issue. In the data chain, there are invisible workers, often in poor countries, paid a few euros to label, sort, and clean what the systems process. There are also those whom automation discards without preparation or support. Cardinal Czerny is not calling for a moratorium on progress. He is asking for something more demanding: that profits not be privatized while human costs are socialized. This is the universal destination of goods, which the encyclical explicitly reaffirms, along with subsidiarity, solidarity, and social justice.

For a Catholic business leader, this provides a simple test. Before deploying a tool, they can ask themselves: who is losing their job, who is being trained in time, who is being consulted? If the answer is "no one," there's a good chance that the cry for withheld wages is already underway.

Ephesus, or the money that defends its images

An episode from the Acts of the Apostles sheds light on another aspect. In Ephesus, the silversmith Demetrius gathers his workers. He explains to them that Paul's preaching threatens their prosperity because it teaches people that "gods made with hands are not gods" (Acts 19:25-26). What follows is revealing: the religious argument serves as a smokescreen for financial gain, and the crowd shouts for two hours about the greatness of their goddess without even knowing why they have gathered (Acts 19:32-34).

This account is not an indictment of technological companies. According to Bishop Cantú, several of their representatives are sincerely seeking the Church's help, and some are concerned that they no longer understand why their machines do what they do. The text simply reminds us that the discourse surrounding progress can conceal a calculated agenda, and that sometimes it takes someone with nothing to gain to speak out. A moral authority serves this purpose: it has no actions to defend. This is why the invitation extended to bishops to sit down with the developers is so valuable. It places them in a position where they can calmly but clearly state what is acceptable and what is not.

A Church that speaks without claiming to know everything

Between Washington and Beijing

Archbishop Cantú makes no secret of the fact that the Church and the White House are not always "on the same page" regarding AI. He urges those in power to look beyond ego and the race for supremacy. He even raises the possibility of the Vatican acting as a mediator for common safeguards between the United States and China. The idea is surprising, but it has its logic. The Holy See has neither an army nor industry to protect. It can offer common ground to rival powers that, given a shared risk, have an interest in reaching an agreement.

This perspective is not rhetorical. Concerns have been raised at the highest international levels, including regarding catastrophic scenarios. The Vatican had issued warnings long before major American players did so in turn before the United Nations. Leo XIV even placed this risk at the heart of his pontificate. The Church is not there to predict the end of the world. It is only there to remind us that weapons, including digital ones, that escape human control pose a fundamental moral question.

In his message to the Roman symposium on AI and peace, the Pope expressed his hope that the fruits of innovation would become instruments of peace, not division. This statement is not naive. It points in a direction: every new tool can be used for reconciliation or for war. The choice rests with those who develop, fund, and regulate it.

Training pastors

The third area of focus for the working group, training, deserves closer attention. A bishop cannot teach what he does not understand. Many pastors, like many members of the faithful, already use these tools without knowing how they work or what they are actually learning. Bishop Cantú acknowledges this simply: everyone has a voice in this debate, but first, one must learn. This humility is a strength. It avoids the two symmetrical pitfalls of panic and naive enthusiasm.

Thomas Aquinas said that grace does not destroy nature, but presupposes and perfects it. We can transpose this adage: faith does not exempt us from understanding technology, but it requires understanding it well enough to judge it. A priest who knows how a language model works will be better able to explain to his parishioners why he sometimes confidently makes mistakes. A catechist will be better able to teach a teenager not to confide their deepest sorrows to a chatbot.

In practical terms, a diocese can begin with three steps. It can organize a training session with a devout engineer. It can adopt a clear charter on the use of AI in its communications, stipulating that it will never be used for preaching or pastoral care. Finally, it can designate a contact person whom families can consult. These are modest measures, but they prevent technology from being imposed without anyone's consent.

The little ones first

On the same day as the working group's announcement, more than a dozen bishops went to the Capitol to ask lawmakers for serious safeguards and support for online child protection. The conference's executive director, Chieko Noguchi, emphasized that the dialogue should help the Church contribute to the moral foundation of models and keep technology human-centered, for the poor as well as the rich. This last point is crucial: an innovation that benefits only a few would not be progress, but a privilege.

The working group says it wants to defend dignity, religious freedom, democratic institutions, workers, families, and vulnerable people. This list is not arbitrary. It follows the thread of Church teaching: a society is judged by how it treats its weakest members. A child alone in front of a screen that constantly responds, flatters, and never tires is not in relationship. He is trapped in a mirror. The role of adults, parents, pastors, and legislators is to pull him out of this mirror and back into the world of faces.

Thus, Bishop Cantú's words do not spark yet another controversy. They recall a very ancient principle of humanity: what is made must remain at the service of the one who makes it, and the maker must remain accountable to his fellow human beings. Magnifica humanitas speaks of a "magnificent humanity" that no machine can replace. In Silicon Valley as elsewhere, the task of Christians is to keep it alive, concretely, one decision at a time.

Lectio divina

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