This past week I had the privilege of giving the opening talk at the Collège des Bernardins in Paris, a thirteenth-century Cistercian college restored as a place where faith and culture meet in honest conversation. It was the inaugural evening of a year-long cycle the Collège is devoting to Pope Leo XIV’s encyclical, Magnifica Humanitas, and I was asked to open the question that will run through the whole year: what kind of people will we become as we build these new technologies? Beneath those ancient stone arches, I was struck by something simple: nobody really wanted to talk about machines. Every question, in the end, was about us, about how we remain human, how we stay connected to one another, how we care for those the world leaves behind.
I offered the room a contrast the Holy Father draws in the encyclical, and I cannot stop praying with it. He sets two ways of building side by side. The first is Babel, where humanity raises a great tower to make a name for itself, a people so curved in on their own pride that they can no longer even understand one another. The second is the wall of Jerusalem, rebuilt under Nehemiah, where the work is divided so that each family repairs the section in front of its own house. Everyone has a part, and the wall rises not because one power commands it, but because all take responsibility together. That, I told them, is the choice before us. The difference is not in the technology, but in whether we build curved inward upon ourselves, or turned outward toward one another and toward God.
That choice is the very heart of this Sunday’s Gospel. Matthew tells us that when Jesus saw the crowds, “his heart was moved with pity for them because they were troubled and abandoned, like sheep without a shepherd.” The Greek word describes a compassion felt in the gut, the way a mother feels the need of her own child. And notice what that compassion does. It does not stay a feeling. Moved by compassion, Jesus heals the sick, teaches the searching, restores integrity to the broken, receives the excluded, and grants forgiveness to the sinner. Compassion in Jesus always becomes action.
Then comes the line that runs straight back to that wall in Jerusalem: “The harvest is abundant but the laborers are few; so ask the master of the harvest to send out laborers for his harvest.” And no sooner does Jesus say it than he answers his own prayer. He summons the Twelve and sends them out to do exactly what he has been doing. Here is the astonishing part: that sending never stopped. By our baptism, you and I are the laborers the Lord is sending into today’s harvest, each of us, like Nehemiah’s families, tending the section of the world in front of our own house. We are called to engage this world, with all its mess and its promise, and make it better for all people, not only for ourselves.
This is exactly what Pope Leo means by human flourishing in Magnifica Humanitas. To flourish, he writes, is to participate in building the city of God, what he calls a civilization of love. It is about relating to one another as members of the one family of God. All people. Everywhere. And the Holy Father refuses to let that great word, flourishing, stay vague. He breaks it open into its parts: the dignity of each person made in God’s image, the common good that belongs to all and not to a few, and a particular care for the poor who would otherwise be pushed further to the margins. As I put it to that audience in Paris, we have built astonishing technology, but have we flourished? That is the question we so rarely stop to ask.
And this does not begin with grand gestures. It begins where we are: with our families, our friends, our community here at St. Simon, and then extends outward toward those most in need of love. So, who are the troubled and abandoned, here in Silicon Valley? In a valley that has connected the whole world, we know neighbors who are profoundly alone: the elderly parishioner whose phone never rings, the teenager drowning in anxiety behind a glowing screen, the worker afraid that technology will make them obsolete, the unhoused family sleeping in a car a few blocks from billion-dollar campuses. The harvest is abundant indeed. And the labor Jesus asks of us is, at its root, the labor of connectedness: the willingness to listen to one another’s stories and to accompany each other on life’s journey. The deepest question about technology is finally a human one. Will we use these tools to draw closer to one another, or let them leave us more troubled and abandoned than before? The answer depends on laborers like you and me.
Closer to home, this week marks the end of another school year, and my heart is full of gratitude. To all our students who worked so hard: well done, we are proud of you. And even more to all our teachers in our St. Simon Parish School, who poured themselves out for our children all year long: thank you. You are laborers in the Lord’s harvest in the truest sense. I pray these summer months bring you genuine rest and rejuvenation. If you are traveling, we wish you safe travels and a safe return. If you are staying close by, come to church and nourish yourselves here at the Table of the Lord. Above all, keep safe and rest.
Finally, I am delighted to share some wonderful news. We have received all the permits to proceed as planned with our major summer projects, and construction begins on Monday, June 15. Please keep everyone involved in your prayers as we undertake this work. The church and the parish and school offices will remain open throughout, but Spooncer Hall and the Parish Center will be closed for the summer. This is so exciting for our parish family. I want to thank our architect, Stephanie Allen, and Michael Boennighausen, along with their teams, who worked so hard to meet this deadline.
I invite you to join me this Sunday evening, June 14 at 6:00 PM as I will be sharing more of what I witnessed firsthand, from the Vatican to the technology companies of Silicon Valley, in the days surrounding the release of Magnifica Humanitas. Whether you have been following the conversation around AI closely or are simply trying to understand what the Church is saying and why it matters, please join us. All are welcome. We’ll begin the evening in Spooncer Hall for a casual gathering with pizza, wine & water and then move into the Church (please note: we have moved this event from the Parish Center). Please RSVP HERE.
The harvest is abundant. The Master is sending. May we go out this summer as laborers of his compassion, listening, accompanying, and building, one relationship at a time, the civilization of love.
God bless,
Fr. Brendan