I. THE QUESTION OF WISDOM

I recently attended a talk on parenting and technology, where much of the discussion concerned the extraordinary changes taking place around us. There was much to admire in what was presented. The ingenuity of the human mind, the speed with which new possibilities are emerging, and the remarkable things we are now capable of accomplishing gave me considerable food for thought. Yet, as I listened to the conversations about artificial intelligence and the future of human work, I found myself considering a question that extends beyond technology itself. How is a person to live wisely amid so much change? And what must remain firmly established within us if we are to receive these developments with gratitude, examine them with prudence, and make good use of them?

These questions seem particularly important when we consider the formation of our children. We naturallywant to prepare them for the world they will inherit, although we cannot know precisely what that world will look like. We can teach them useful skills and help them understand emerging technologies, but we must also consider the judgment, character, and understanding of human life that will enable them to use those abilities well.

As I reflected on this, I thought of Solomon’s request for an understanding heart, that he might discern between good and evil. Entrusted with governing a people, he asked for the wisdom to judge well. His request seems especially relevant to a time in which knowledge and technical capability are expanding so quickly.

“Give therefore to thy servant an understanding heart,to judge thy people, and discern between good and evil.” — 3 Kings 3:9 (Douay-Rheims; 1 Kings 3:9 in many modern editions)

We can retrieve facts in seconds, communicate across continents, automate complicated tasks, and carry libraries in our pockets. Yet none of these abilitiesrelieves us of the responsibility to discern what is worthdoing, what deserves protection, and what constitutes a good life. Knowledge may tell us what a tool can accomplish; wisdom helps us consider the purposes to which it ought to be directed.

In Fides et Ratio, St. John Paul II speaks of faith and reason as the two wings by which the human spirit risesto the contemplation of truth. His image recalls the breadth of the human search for understanding. We seek to know the world, certainly, but we also seek to understand our place within it and the ends toward which our lives should be ordered.

This is why the question beneath the present technological conversation is so familiar. How should a human being live? It is a question we shall continue to face, whatever our tools become capable of doing.

II. THE POWERS ENTRUSTED TO US

Human creativity is one of the ordinary expressions of our intelligence. We build houses, practice medicine, compose music, cultivate the earth, study nature, and devise instruments that make difficult work possible. Such activities can be undertaken with gratitude for the world we have received and with a genuine desire to serve others.

The Church’s recent reflection Antiqua et Nova places artificial intelligence within a broader consideration of human intelligence and dignity. Our capacity to make things carries responsibility for what we make and for the people whose lives are affected by it. The value of a technological development must therefore be considered in relation to the human person and the common good.

A machine may complete a task more quickly than a person. It does not follow that the meaning of that person’s work has been exhausted by the task. A systemmay imitate conversation without sharing the obligations of friendship. Generated images may become abundant while the vocation of the artist continues to involve perception, discipline, judgment, and a particular encounter with reality.When we think about the education of children, the same distinction matters. Employability is a genuine concern, and parents should help children acquire useful knowledge and skills. Yet education also forms their ability to reason, to recognize beauty, to make judgments, to attend to another person, and to understand that human dignity is never measured simply by economic usefulness.

We must also be honest about the difficulties that accompany technological progress. Mass production canreduce work to output; systems designed for efficiency can increase demands upon workers; digital tools can be used for manipulation or surveillance. New capabilities can create genuine benefits while also placing vulnerable people at risk.

St. John Paul II, in Laborem Exercens, insists upon the priority of the person over the instruments and organization of labor. His principle remains a useful measure of technological change: work is for the humanperson. It is our task to judge whether the ways we use our tools respect that order.

Prudence may require us to learn new skills, to welcome an improvement, to advocate for fair treatment, to resist an exploitative practice, or to establish limits. Christian trust in Providence does not excuse carelessness about justice. It enables us to act with seriousness while remembering that no human institution can carry the whole weight of our hope.

III. WHAT OUR FEARS REVEAL

The prospect of change can unsettle us for understandable reasons. We wish to provide for our families, preserve meaningful work, and offer our children a secure beginning. The possibility that a profession may change, or that a skill acquired through years of effort may be valued differently, deserves practical consideration.Yet our anxieties may also invite a more personal examination. What have I come to depend upon for my sense of security? How much of my peace rests upon being needed in a particular way? If my circumstances change, what do I fear losing besides the circumstances themselves?

These questions require honesty. We may discover an attachment to recognition, control, or the future we had imagined. We may also discover genuine responsibilities that call for careful preparation. Often the two are present together, and prudence helps us distinguish between them. It is possible to oppose a harmful practice without allowing resentment to govern us. We can speak truthfully about injustice, seek remedies, and protect those entrusted to our care while asking God to preserve charity within us. Such an examination is part of conversion, for the events around us often disclose something about the disposition with which we meet them.

Our Lord never asked us to abandon the ordinary responsibilities of life. We are to work, plan, provide, learn, and make reasonable provision for the future. We are also invited to acknowledge the limits of our control and to entrust what lies beyond those limits to the Father. Prudence and surrender can belong to the same life. We attend faithfully to what has been given to us and gradually learn to release the expectation that we must govern everything else.

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IV. THE FIXED POINT

As I considered these questions, I kept returning to the image of navigation. A sailor must attend to the wind and the condition of the sea, but he also needs a point by which to judge his direction. The fixed point does not remove the changing circumstances; it makes orientation possible within them.

Our circumstances are changing. Professions, institutions, political arrangements, and cultural assumptions may alter within a generation. If our understanding of human life depends entirely upon the fashions and demands of the present age, we shall have to reconstruct it whenever those demands change.

For the Christian, Christ gives us a point of reference that is not subject to the movement of the century. Scripture says, “Jesus Christ, yesterday, and today; and the same for ever” (Hebrews 13:8). We measure our judgments, desires, and responsibilities in relation to Him.

The image of a fixed star is useful, though Scripture gives us an even more personal one. Christ calls Himselfthe Good Shepherd and says that He knows His own. We may be uncertain about the path ahead, but the Christian life is founded upon a relationship with One who knows us and calls us to follow.I think also of the disciples in the storm, who woke Christ as the water entered their boat, and of Peter, who began to sink when he became afraid of the wind. In both accounts the danger is real. The disciples must facecircumstances beyond their strength. Their help comes from the Lord who is present to them.We should neither exaggerate the powers of technology nor dismiss the difficulties it can bring. We must understand the forces changing our world while remembering their proper place. The storm deserves our attention; it need not become the measure of all reality.

After the talk, I discussed these matters with a friend. She observed that we must learn to live life with God rather than continually trying to add Him to a life already organized around other things. I have returned to that observation often. It asks us to consider what occupies the center of our attention and from what relationship we make our decisions.

Our work, family life, ambitions, fears, and use of technology are all part of the life we bring before God. If He is truly at the center, the rest can gradually be seen and judged in its proper proportion.

V. THE HIDDEN FORMATION OF THE SOUL

St. Teresa of Ávila, in The Interior Castle, describes the soul through the image of a beautiful castle whose innermost dwelling is the place of communion with God. Her image reminds us that the interior life is worthy of attention, and that the condition of the soul influences the way we receive the circumstances of ordinary life.

We can become so occupied with our plans, obligations, and the changing world that we scarcely examine the fears and desires through which we interpret it. Prayer gives us the opportunity to return to God, to see ourselves more truthfully, and to ask for the grace to respond well.

This formation takes place through familiar means: Scripture, the sacraments, silence, examination of conscience, Eucharistic adoration, and the faithful fulfillment of our duties. Their simplicity should not lead us to underestimate them. A person who learns to pray in peaceful circumstances is also learning where toturn when circumstances become difficult.

In Terrence Malick’s A Hidden Life, the life of Blessed Franz Jägerstätter gives us an example of how fidelity cultivated in ordinary circumstances may prepare a person for an unexpected demand upon conscience. The film invites reflection upon prayer, family, work, and the choices through which character is formed before any public test arrives.

We cannot foresee every occasion that may require courage. We can, however, seek to become truthful in small matters, faithful in our duties, patient with those around us, and willing to accept the correction of grace. These habits form the person who will eventually have to make difficult choices.

Prudence is particularly important here. As Fr. Gregory Pine explains in Prudence: Choose Confidently, Live Boldly, it concerns the application of good judgment to the circumstances in which we actually live. We must decide when to speak, when to wait, when to act, and what belongs to us to undertake. Holiness is lived among real people and particular responsibilities. If I ask what we should teach children in an age of artificial intelligence, I would begin with this understanding of formation. Let them learn to read difficult things, reason carefully, understand history, and make things with their hands. Let them encounter music, beauty, nature, and the wisdom of those who have lived before them. Let them learn to listen, to keep their word, to endure difficulty, and to recognize the dignity of people who can offer them nothing in return.

Above all, let them learn to pray, to form their consciences, and to seek truth. We cannot prepare themfor every invention they will encounter. We can help form people capable of meeting unfamiliar circumstances with judgment, courage, and charity.

VI. SEEK FIRST THE KINGDOM

In the Sermon on the Mount, Our Lord speaks directly to the human concern for the future. He asks usto consider the birds of the air and the lilies of the field, and reminds us that our heavenly Father knows what we need. His words restore a proper order to our concerns. “Seek ye therefore first the kingdom of God, and his justice, and all these things shall be added unto you” (Matthew 6:33). The word first matters. Our responsibilities remain, but they are no longer asked to provide the final meaning or security of our lives.We can prepare for tomorrow without attempting to live it in advance. We can consider forecasts, develop skills, make prudent decisions, and take care of those who depend upon us. When useful action has been taken, we may still find ourselves turning anxiously over possibilities we cannot control. The invitation to trust is especially necessary then.

The future contains circumstances we cannot foresee: difficulties, opportunities, people we have not yet met, and forms of grace we cannot presently imagine. We are responsible for today’s duties. Tomorrow will bring duties of its own.This is one reason I find the ordinary practices of Christian life so important in a changing world. Prayer teaches us to remain before God. Scripture forms the way we see. Confession restores us when we have turned away. The Eucharist draws us into communion with Christ. In the life of the Church we receive the grace by which we may fulfill the responsibilities entrusted to us.

When I consider the future my child will inherit, I cannot know what work will look like or which technologies will become part of daily life. I can attend to the formation of the person who will meet that future. I can teach what is good, encourage useful learning, make room for prayer, and try to live the same principles faithfully myself. And I must do likewise in my own life. There is someone to love today, work to undertake, a decision to make carefully, a duty to fulfill, and a reason to give thanks. These are the circumstances in which I can seek God and learn to live with Him.

The world will continue to change. Our instruments and the conditions of our work will change with it. Christ remains. The art of living well consists, in part, in learning to receive the present day from His hand, to undertake its duties with love, and to entrust what lies beyond us to the Father who already knows what we need

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