By Father Peter Choy Wai-man
In an era where AI is developing so quickly, it looks as though humans have mastered knowledge and efficiency like never before. Algorithms can analyse huge amounts of data, write fluent prose, and even mimic a kind of “understanding”. However, in his pastoral letter, Magnifica Humanitas [Magnificent Humanity], published on May 25 this year, Pope Leo XIV reminds us that while technology can serve human beings, it cannot redefine them. This document is not just a reflection on tech ethics, it throws down a profound challenge to how we train theologians today.
The pope stresses that what makes us human isn’t our computing power, but our inner freedom, spiritual depth, and our calling to love and worship God. This has a fundamental impact on theological work. If theological education stops at just gathering facts and logical analysis, it risks quietly adopting the mindset of the tech age—treating theology as an information system that can be totally mastered. Yet, theology is not purely an academic exercise. It is a response to God’s revelation, a process where the whole person—mind, will, and heart—is transformed.
In the age of AI, theology students have access to more resources than ever before. Researching literature, translating languages, and organising data can all be done in the blink of an eye. But if these tools are used without inner discernment, they can actually make theological training shallower. This is because real theology is not just about “knowing things about God”, but about “being shaped by a relationship with God”. The pope reminds us that human dignity comes from our irreplaceable nature as unique individuals. Theological training must protect this personal core, turning learning into an act of responding to a calling, rather than just data processing.
Magnifica Humanitas points out that machines can mimic language but they cannot love; they can generate words but they cannot worship. This distinction is vital for theological education. The ultimate goal of theology is not precise phrasing, but leading people into prayer and worship. If training overlooks spiritual life and community fellowship, and focuses only on rigid theory and efficient results, it falls into a technical trap. That kind of theology might be precise, but it lacks life.
Therefore, in an AI environment, theological training needs to focus even more on three areas. First is the practice of silence and prayer. When the world is full of instant answers and quick results, students need to learn to be still before God, letting the truth settle in their hearts. Second is community life and shared experience. If God is a Trinity of loving community, theology cannot be studied in isolation at a lonely desk; it must grow through listening to and supporting one another. Third is building ethical and spiritual discernment. Learning how to use technology well, without letting it dictate our values, is an issue modern theology cannot ignore.
The pope is not rejecting AI; he is calling for a human-centred approach. The same goes for seminaries and theological colleges. Technology can be a helpful tool, but it cannot replace spiritual directors, community life, and real pastoral experience. At its heart, theology is an encounter between God and humanity, and an encounter cannot be replaced by an algorithm.
In an age that obsesses over efficiency and output, Magnifica Humanitas reminds us that a person’s value does not lie in what they can do, but in their capacity to love. For theological education, this means the final goal is not to produce theoretical experts, but to form pastors and theologians who can love, pray, and give their lives for others.
When theological education stays true to this, it becomes a profound witness in a technological world: humans are not machines, but individuals made in the image of God; and true knowledge is only complete in love.
