A Crossroad Between Bans and Discernment: Forming Conscience for the Age of AI

Savio Saldanha SJ

https://doi.org/10.5281/zenodo.17742128

29-11-2025

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Introduction

            Artificial Intelligence (AI) has shifted from abstract concept to everyday reality, affecting education, research, and even personal and spiritual growth. As educational institutions respond with strict rules and bans on AI’s use, there is growing concern that technology is advancing faster than regulation, creating a sense that we are fighting a losing battle. After reading recent papal documents and philosophical literature pertaining to AI, I think this development calls for a more integrative approach: one that promotes understanding, ethics, and discernment in the use of AI, especially among youth and researchers. As we stand on the crossroad of the conscience we face a dilemma of the ethical and moral use of AI by students and youth and the limits for its usage.

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The Problem

            Currently, many institutions aim to restrict or eliminate AI use among students, fearing it will replace genuine learning with automated shortcuts. However, as AI becomes more advanced—capable of generating essays, solving complex problems, and evading detection—these methods are increasingly ineffective. This leads to frustration on all sides, eroding trust, stifling curiosity, and weakening genuine intellectual formation.

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The Solution

            The future lies not in fighting AI, but in fostering a mature, ethical, and reflective engagement with it. By drawing on Catholic teaching and philosophical inquiry, educators and leaders can guide students towards a responsible, creative, and truly human integration of AI.

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AI as a Tool: Neutral by Nature, Ethical by Use

            Pope Francis emphasized that AI is a tool—one that can advance knowledge, democratize education, and serve humanity (Pope Francis, 2024). Like all tools, it carries no moral quality by itself. Its effects depend entirely on how people use it: for good or ill, to foster justice or inequality, to create genuine understanding or simply shortcut effort. Pope Leo XIV likewise notes the double-edged nature of AI, affirming that while “AI is above all else a tool,” its ethical value lies in intention and use (Pope Leo XIV, 2025).

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Centrality of the Human Person

            The Church’s teaching places human dignity at the center of all technology. Pope Leo XIV writes that AI must be assessed “in light of the integral development of the human person and society,” not just on material outcomes (Pope Leo XIV, 2025). Pope Francis cautions that even sophisticated technology should not undermine the human capacity for moral decision, reflection, and authentic encounter (Pope Francis, 2024). Both teach that any use of AI must support—not replace—uniquely human creativity, judgment, and critical thought.

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Insights from the Philosophy of AI

            The philosophy of AI, as outlined by Müller (2024), not only helps clarify what AI is and is not, but also shows how reflection on AI and reflection on the human person belong together. Müller begins from the classical research program launched at Dartmouth in 1956, which conjectured that every aspect of learning and intelligence could in principle be precisely described and simulated on a machine. In this sense, “Classical AI” is a research project aimed at building computer-based agents that genuinely have intelligence, and it stands in continuity with the well-known distinction between “strong AI” and “weak AI.” Strong AI maintains that an appropriately programmed computer literally has a mind and cognitive states, while weak AI treats computer systems as powerful tools for simulating mental processes and for studying the mind without claiming that the machine itself understands. This distinction resonates with Searle’s “Chinese Room Argument,” which suggests that rule-based symbol manipulation, even when behaviorally successful, is not yet genuine understanding; from a theological standpoint, this confirms that intentionality and consciousness—and therefore moral responsibility—remain rooted in the human person rather than in the artifact.

            Müller then contrasts this classical, ambitious understanding of AI with what he calls “Technical AI”: a family of concrete methods in computer science—search, probabilistic reasoning, expert systems, control engineering, machine learning, and so on—used to build systems for perception, modelling, planning, and action. Here AI is not a claim about minds, but a toolbox for constructing systems that behave intelligently in restricted domains. Since around 2015, the rise of deep machine learning, fuelled by massive data and computing power, has dramatically increased the performance of such systems in translation, text generation, games, vision, and autonomous driving, sometimes surpassing human capabilities in specific tasks. Yet Müller stresses that this success does not settle the philosophical question of intelligence itself; it only shows that certain forms of intelligent behaviour can be produced by non-human, non-conscious mechanisms. Theologically, this supports a nuanced view: AI can exhibit impressive capacities without thereby becoming a subject of rights, duties, or grace, because its “intelligence” is instrumental rather than existential.

            Because of these two strands—classical and technical—Müller argues that the philosophy of AI must address three Kantian questions: What is AI? What can AI do? What should AI be? He proposes an “AI philosophy” that does not merely apply pre-existing concepts to a new object, but allows the very concepts of intelligence, agency, and normativity to be re-examined in light of AI systems. For example, work on the Turing Test shows how operational criteria for “thinking” can shift public language, even if they do not resolve deeper metaphysical issues about consciousness. At the same time, debates about goals and values in AI highlight a crucial limit: current systems exhibit remarkable instrumental intelligence (they are very good at finding means to given ends), but they lack genuine metacognitive reflection on which goals are worth pursuing and why. Müller notes that without such reflection on the goodness and relevance of ends, AI cannot be a full moral agent, and talk of “machine ethics” in a strong sense is misleading.​

            This analysis dovetails with Catholic concerns about “algor-ethics.” If AI systems, even highly sophisticated ones, cannot autonomously ground or revise their own goals in the light of truth and the good, then they must remain embedded within human practices of discernment, responsibility, and virtue. Pope Francis’s call for ethical frameworks for AI can thus be deepened by Müller’s claim that normative reflection is not an optional “add-on” but an elementary part of any genuinely rational life-form. In human beings, this reflective capacity is tied to conscience, practical wisdom, and an openness to transcendence; in machines, by contrast, the selection and evaluation of goals must ultimately be designed, monitored, and judged by persons. The philosophy of AI therefore reinforces a central intuition of Catholic moral theology: intelligent artefacts may transform the conditions of action, but they do not displace the primacy of human agents, whose freedom and moral growth remain at the heart of any authentic “ethics of AI.”​

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Papal concerns about “outsourcing” formation to AI

            Recent interventions by Pope Leo XIV deepen this educational perspective by explicitly addressing the temptation to let AI “do our homework” in place of real learning. Speaking to students, he acknowledges that AI can be a powerful aid for study but insists it must never replace the hard work of thinking, judging, and creating for oneself, because these are precisely the activities through which persons grow in freedom and responsibility. In this view, AI belongs to the order of tools, whereas wisdom and moral discernment arise only through the engaged, embodied exercise of human intelligence in relationship with others and with God.

            At the same time, the Pope does not reject AI as such; he calls it “one of the defining features of our time” and urges educators and parents to guide young people toward uses of AI that genuinely help and do not hinder their human development. The decisive question is not whether AI is present in schools, but whether its use forms or deforms students: does it cultivate intellectual honesty, patience, and collaborative learning, or does it encourage passivity, plagiarism, and isolation. This resonates with the broader Catholic insistence that technology must always be evaluated in light of the dignity of the person and the integral growth of children and adolescents, who are particularly vulnerable to the allure of effortless solutions.

            From a philosophical and pastoral standpoint, the papal warning against delegating one’s homework to AI can be read symbolically as a warning against outsourcing the very struggle that makes education transformative. If students learn to treat AI as a substitute for their own judgment and creativity, they risk hollowing out the interior capacities—attention, critical reflection, moral imagination—that Catholic tradition associates with the formation of conscience. By contrast, when AI is used transparently and critically, as an instrument that supports research and reflection without replacing them, it can become an ally in precisely the “intergenerational apprenticeship” that the Church envisions.

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The Role of Education: From Control to Formation

            A recurring theme in both papal and philosophical sources is the importance of education as formation, not just transmission of skills or facts. Pope Leo XIV calls for an “intergenerational apprenticeship” so that young people can learn to integrate technology wisely into their lives (Pope Leo XIV, 2025). Education should develop students’ responsibility, discernment, and creativity, equipping them to use AI for real growth—intellectually, morally, and spiritually—rather than as a means of shortcutting learning or escaping effort (Pope Francis, 2024; Müller, 2024).

            Pope Francis warns against technophobia and calls for dialogue—across cultures, generations, and disciplines—to ensure AI serves the common good. He advocates a shared ethical foundation (“algor-ethics”) and stresses the need for healthy politics to direct technological change towards justice, inclusion, and the flourishing of all (Pope Francis, 2024).

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Personal Reflection and Practical Recommendations

            As we stand at a crossroads of conscience regarding the ethical and moral use of AI by students and youth, the dilemma often appears stark: should AI be banned altogether or tightly limited, and who has the authority to fix and enforce those limits. Witnessing the rigid enforcement of AI bans in many institutions, it seems increasingly likely that such efforts will fail in the long term, not only because the technology will outpace policing, but because a purely prohibitive strategy neglects the deeper formation of judgment that both philosophy and Catholic teaching demand. The categories developed by Müller help here: if much of what is now called “AI” is in fact “technical AI”—powerful but limited methods for perception, modeling, and decision-support—then treating these tools as if they were already quasi-personal agents to be excluded altogether risks confusion and fear rather than clarity.

            A more coherent response is to move from prohibition to formation, from mere rule-enforcement to an “intergenerational apprenticeship” in the wise use of technology, as Pope Leo XIV suggests. If, as Müller argues, current AI systems exhibit at most instrumental intelligence—remarkable skill in finding means to given ends, but no genuine reflection on which ends are good or just—then the responsibility for setting and evaluating goals necessarily remains with human agents. This implies that institutions, families, and Church communities cannot abdicate discernment to algorithms, nor to external regulators alone; they must themselves cultivate the virtues and criteria by which AI use is judged. In this perspective, the key question is not simply “how much AI is allowed,” but “how do we form persons who can use AI without outsourcing the inner work of thinking, choosing, and taking responsibility.”

            Practically, this means encouraging openness, integrity, and critical reflection on AI rather than secrecy and evasion. Policies will still be needed—there must be some boundaries on plagiarism, data misuse, and academic dishonesty—but these norms should be embedded in a broader pedagogical project that teaches students not only what to avoid, but how and why to use AI well. Drawing on Pope Francis’s call for “algor‑ethics,” educators can invite students to ask in each concrete case: does this use of AI support or undermine my own learning, my relationships, and the dignity of others. By engaging youth in such questions, institutions help them move from passive users of opaque systems to discerning subjects who not only understand the technical limits of AI but also its moral implications.​

            In this light, I conclude that, instead of asking whether to ban or permit AI in the abstract, our central task is to shape a culture in which AI is integrated into education in a way that preserves the primacy of human intelligence, conscience, and community. Those who “decide the limits” of AI use—teachers, parents, Church leaders, and students themselves—should be seen not primarily as regulators but as co-responsible participants in a shared work of formation. By teaching young people to collaborate with AI without surrendering their capacity for wonder, critical thought, and moral responsibility, institutions can foster maturity, wisdom, and resilience—qualities that the philosophy of AI identifies as properly human, and that Catholic spirituality recognises as the fruit of grace working through human freedom.

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References

• Müller, V. C. (2024). Philosophy of Artificial Intelligence: A Structured Overview. In: Smuha NA, ed. The Cambridge Handbook of the Law, Ethics and Policy of Artificial Intelligence. Cambridge Law Handbooks. Cambridge University Press; 2025:40-58. DOI: https://doi.org/10.1017/9781009367783.004
• Pope Francis. (2024, June 14). Address at the G7 Session on Artificial Intelligence, Borgo Egnazia, Puglia. The Holy See.​
• Pope Leo XIV. (2025, June 19). Message to participants in the Second Annual Conference on Artificial Intelligence, Ethics, and Corporate Governance, Rome. The Holy See.​
• Pope Leo XIV. (2025, November 21). Address to young people at the National Catholic Youth Conference, Indianapolis. Vatican News / USCCB summary reports.

Humanae Vitae and Amoris Laetitia — Continuity of the Norm, Renewal of the Method

 

Savio Saldanha SJ

10.5281/zenodo.17681156

22-11-2025

 Introduction

            As I continue my theological studies in Paris, I often find myself sifting through some of the most delicate topics in contemporary Catholic moral teaching. Today I was reflecting on the relationship between Humanae Vitae and Amoris Laetitia. These two documents stand almost fifty years apart, yet they touch the same sensitive area of Christian family life—birth regulation, responsible parenthood, and the moral responsibilities of married couples. At first glance, many people see them as opposed: one appears strict and doctrinal, the other pastoral and flexible. But a deeper reading shows something far richer. And so we find ourselves on the crossroads of conscience, how can Amoris Laetitia be understood as the Church's practical and pastoral guide for living out the moral norms articulated in Humanae Vitae?

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Historical Background of the texts:

Humanae Vitae, (25^th July 1968)

            In 1968, Pope Paul VI wrote Humanae Vitae as a response to the changing times- new methods of contraception, shifting views on sexuality, and scientific progress were raising questions that previous generations had never faced. In the encyclical, he chose to reaffirm the Church’s long-standing conviction that every marital act should remain open to the gift of life. For him, this wasn’t just about rules, but about protecting the dignity of marriage and the moral balance of society. Humanae Vitae also responded to the challenges: fears of overpopulation, the ethical challenges brought by new reproductive technologies and intense debate within the Church itself especially since the Vatican’s own study commission had explored the possibility of allowing birth control. By writing this document, Paul VI wanted to offer clarity and guidance at a moment when many Catholics were uncertain about how to navigate these new questions.

Amoris Laetitia (19^th March 2016)

            Pope Francis wrote Amoris Laetitia with a very concrete concern: the real struggles families face today—growing separation and divorce, shifting cultural expectations and the complexity of modern relationships that don’t fit neatly into traditional categories. As I read it, I sensed that Francis was trying to respond not just abstract or perceived “situations,” but to the lived stories of people we encounter in pastoral settings: couples wounded by breakdown, young people uncertain about commitment, families carrying heavy burdens that the Church cannot ignore.

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The Core Problem

            The core difficulty lies in the human tendency to isolate one element of a document and make it controversial. In the case of Humanae Vitae, many focus almost exclusively on its prohibition of artificial contraception. Such a narrow reading reduces the entire text to a single challenging norm and risks making it appear detached from the broader vision and lived experience it seeks to address.

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 The Solution

            Pope Paul VI presents a complex vision. He teaches that marriage has two sides—love between the couple and openness to having children (Humanae Vitae §8–9). He says couples should stay open to life, while also choosing wisely and responsibly when to welcome a child (HV §10; also §16 on “responsible parenthood”). He also gives a surprising place to conscience, describing it as the “interior sanctuary” (HV §10) where spouses must decide with seriousness and freedom how to live their vocation (HV §10). As a Jesuit who found his vocation, seeing the daily struggles of poor families in India with economic pressures and relationship issues, I cannot ignore this emphasis on conscience. It is already a sign that Humanae Vitae is not simply a juridical text but a moral vision that needs careful pastoral application.

            Amoris Laetitia does not contradict this vision. Instead, Pope Francis chooses not to repeat the old debates. His silence on contraception is not avoidance; it is an intentional pastoral choice. Rather than re-argue doctrine, Pope Francis shifts the focus toward how couples grow, discern, and accompany one another (AL §36–37, §303). He speaks of the “law of graduality” (AL §295), the formation of conscience (AL §37; §303), the need for patient accompaniment (AL §291–312), and the role of mercy when people fail (AL §305). This reflects a change not in doctrine but in anthropology. Whereas Humanae Vitae works with a more static anthropology—marriage as an objective structure—Amoris Laetitia adopts a dynamic anthropology, where the human person is capable yet fragile, responsible yet in need of guidance. This resonates with Paul Ricœur’s anthropology of the “capable human” (Ricœur, Oneself as Another, especially the opening chapters on “the capable subject”).

            This dynamic anthropology helps to solve the apparent tension. If the moral norm expressed in Humanae Vitae is universal, its application must be personal. Norms without pastoral sensitivity can crush people; pastoral care without norms loses direction. Pope Francis’ approach is influenced by Ricœur’s idea of the “capable human,” where norms function as horizons toward which people walk (Ricœur, The Symbolism of Evil; Oneself as Another).

            As my experience of having worked with couples in rural Maharashtra—often immigrants and poor, carrying wounds and hopes—I see how unrealistic it would be to demand immediate perfection. Instead, Amoris Laetitia invites the Church into the slow, patient art of spiritual accompaniment, where conscience is not a loophole but the privileged place of encounter with God (AL §303: “Conscience can do more than recognize a rule; it can recognize what God is asking amid the concrete complexity of one’s limits.”).

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 The Synthesis

            The key point that bridges both documents is the dignity of conscience. Pope Paul VI calls conscience the “sanctuary” where spouses discern God’s will. Pope Francis deepens this, insisting that conscience is the space where objective teaching and concrete life meet—not in relativism but in responsible discernment. The Spirit works in conscience, shaping choices over time through prayer, dialogue, and community support. For me, as a Jesuit formed in the Ignatian tradition of discernment, this connection is the most striking. Pope Francis is applying the logic of the Spiritual Exercises to family life: God leads each person in a way that respects freedom, acknowledges limits, and invites growth.

            Understanding how these two documents complement each other can help in addressing today’s pastoral challenges. On one hand, the Church must not abandon the moral ideal of openness to life. On the other hand, she cannot ignore the lived realities of couples—economic insecurity, emotional strain, health problems, cultural pressures etc. Families in India and in France (and all over the world) face very different issues, yet they share the same need for accompaniment and understanding. The teaching of Humanae Vitae becomes meaningful only when it is integrated into a pastoral attitude that listens, discerns, and supports. Amoris Laetitia provides precisely this method: it respects the teaching but insists that real growth happens slowly, through relationships, prayer, and the support of the community.

            Therefore, a balanced approach emerges. The Church affirms the moral vision of Humanae Vitae while recognizing that couples often walk toward this ideal step by step. Responsible parenthood becomes not just obedience to a rule but a response to God’s call within the complex conditions of life. Pastoral ministers are invited to accompany without judging, to guide without forcing, and to trust the conscience of those who sincerely seek God’s will.

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 Conclusion

            In conclusion, the conversation between Humanae Vitae and Amoris Laetitia is not a clash but a rich dialogue. One sets the horizon; the other provides the path. Together they reveal a moral theology that is at once faithful to truth and sensitive to human experience. As I continue my studies and pastoral work, I see more clearly that the Church’s mission is not to impose burdens but to help families discover God’s presence in their joys, struggles, and everyday decisions. This synthesis offers a way forward: grounded in doctrine, guided by discernment, and always illuminated by the merciful gaze of Christ. Hence, we can conclude that if Humanae Vitae offers the moral norm, Amoris Laetitia offers the practical way to live that norm in the real world of human fragility, growth, and discernment.

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When External Reasons Run Out: Ruth Chang’s Hard Choices, Ignatian Discernment, and the Amoris Laetitia’s Freedom of Love.

 

Savio Saldanha SJ

DOI: 10.5281/zenodo.17617724

15 November 2025

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            Life often places us at crossroads where neither path seems clearly better or worse. Should I change careers, move to another country, or remain where I am? Should I marry, or live single in dedication to service? Such moments are not about choosing between good and evil –that is never to be an option- but between two kinds of good, each leading to a different kind of future. These are moments of deep moral and spiritual significance — what philosopher Ruth Chang calls “hard choices.”

            In her 2017 paper “Hard Choices” (DOI: 10.1017/apa.2017.7), Chang argues that our difficulty in such situations is not due to ignorance or lack of rationality. It is because these choices resist the usual categories of better, worse, or equal. Two options can be “on a par,” meaning they are incomparable yet valuable in different ways. The challenge, therefore, is not to find the objectively correct choice — there is none — but to recognize that when external reasons run out, we must act from internal ones. This is where I believe we reach the crossroads where the knowledge from the books we’ve read, our intellect and rationalism ends. In such situation we look to someone for guidance or reflect within ourselves to draw up from the wisdom of our own past experiences in similar cases or look for guidance from the Divine.

            This insight opens a profoundly existential space for us all. According to Chang, “hard choices are precious opportunities for us to exercise our normative power — the power to create reasons for ourselves.” When no external criterion determines what to do, we become the authors of our own lives. We define ourselves by what we commit to: “I am someone who commits to the forest,” says the young person choosing forestry over law. Freedom, then, is not mere preference but self-commitment, an act of becoming. Ideal choice indeed, but we all know that in such moments it is not the knowledge of choosing but the courage of choosing is what we need the most. We look for something to ‘confirm’ us in our choice, as St. Ignatius would have called it, for a sign that what we are choosing is not only the better option but the best one at the moment.

            Hence for a Christian, this moment of freedom is not lived in isolation but before God. This is where Ignatian discernment — the spiritual art developed by St. Ignatius of Loyola — offers a deeper perspective for Chang’s insight. Ignatius would agree that not every choice can be resolved by logic; but he would insist that God is present precisely in those moments where external reasons fall silent. In The Spiritual Exercises, Ignatius calls such decisions “elections” — occasions to seek and find God’s will in the concrete texture of one’s desires, affections, and inner movements.

            Ignatian discernment thus transforms Chang’s self-authorship into co-authorship with God. Freedom remains essential, but it is now dialogical: I am not the sole source of meaning; I am a collaborator in a divine story of love. Where Chang’s thinker asks, “Who do I want to be?”, Ignatian spirituality asks, “Who is God calling me to become?” This subtle difference shifts decision-making from pure autonomy to graced freedom — freedom exercised within relationship, guided by love.

            This Ignatian dynamic finds a profound echo in Pope Francis’s Amoris Laetitia (2016), particularly in Chapter 8, where he develops a theology of discernment in complex situations. Francis rejects rigid moralism that seeks clear-cut answers to every question. Instead, he calls for “responsible personal and pastoral discernment of particular cases” (AL §300). Echoing both Chang and Ignatius, he recognizes that some moral questions cannot be resolved by universal formulas: “It is reductive simply to consider whether or not an individual’s actions correspond to a general law or rule... What is possible for one person may not be possible for another.” (AL §304). Here, as in Chang’s philosophy, Francis sees that reasons ‘run out’ — that is, objective criteria reach their limit. But unlike a purely secular freedom, Christian discernment does not end in self-determination alone. For Francis, “discernment must help to find possible ways of responding to God and growing in the midst of limits” (AL §305). This is freedom within grace — the freedom to choose the greater love (magis), the path of deeper communion with God and others. Francis insists that “we are called to form consciences, not to replace them” (AL §37) perfectly bridges Chang’s and Ignatius’s insights. Chang invites us to author our lives; Ignatius invites us to discern the divine call within our desires; Francis invites the Church to accompany that process, forming consciences capable of genuine moral creativity. In this triad, conscience is not a mechanical calculator of moral rules but a living, discerning faculty that listens for God’s voice amid competing goods.

            Seen in this light, Amoris Laetitia can be read as a pastoral application of Chang’s insight about “parity.” Many human situations — especially in family life — involve goods that are incomparable: fidelity and forgiveness, truth and mercy, ideal and reality. Francis teaches that discernment is not the suspension of moral truth but its personalization — allowing the Spirit to reveal how God’s universal love becomes concrete in my particular history. Thus, when external reasons run out, the Christian does not drift into relativism or self-assertion. Instead, she/he turns inward and upward; seeking the quiet voice of the Spirit that whispers in their heart. Hard choices, then, are not obstacles to faith but occasions of encounter — moments where we exercise our freedom with God, not apart from Him. They become the very moments when we realize what St. Paul says in 2 Corinthians 4:6-7, “For God, who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ made his light shine in our hearts… But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us.” Our human fragility and limit (“jars of clay”) becomes the very place where God’s light shines. In discernment, we do not need perfect knowledge; we need an open heart where God’s light can enter. This is where we become aware of the movements of His Spirit in our life, guiding us, leading us and walking with us.
I feel this is exactly what Pope Francis in his vision of mercy and accompaniment in Amoris Laetitia (§291–312) would say, ‘the imperfect life can still radiate grace’.

            Ruth Chang shows us that hard choices define who we are. Ignatius and Pope Francis show that they also reveal whose we are — beloved children and co-workers of God’s creative love. When we discern in this way, decision-making becomes a sacred act: not a quest for perfection, but a humble commitment to walk with the God who calls us to love in freedom.

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References

• Chang, Ruth (2017). “Hard Choices.” American Philosophical Association Proceedings, 1(1), 1–22. DOI: 10.1017/apa.2017.7
• Francis, Pope. Amoris Laetitia: The Joy of Love. Apostolic Exhortation, 2016.
• Ignatius of Loyola, The Spiritual Exercises, §§169–189 (“Making an Election”).
• Ganss, George E. (ed.). The Spiritual Exercises of Saint Ignatius: A Translation and Commentary. Chicago: Loyola Press, 1992.

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A World Without Foundations? From Nietzsche’s Nihilism to the Church’s Vision of Empathy

Savio Saldanha SJ

DOI: 10.5281/zenodo.17584033

10-November 2025

            Sometimes it feels, scrolling through headlines or witnessing the isolation in our cities, as if we are living in what Nietzsche foresaw almost 150 years ago: a world striving to live as if God were dead-where the very moorings of meaning, morality, and empathy are cast adrift.

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When “God Is Dead”: Nietzsche’s Radical Challenge

            In The Gay Science (§125), Friedrich Nietzsche’s parable of the madman interrupts the marketplace with his anguished cry: “God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him.” Nietzsche was not simply dismissing faith; he was diagnosing a crisis of meaning at the heart of modernity. The Enlightenment, scientific rationalism, and secularization had “unchained this earth from its sun,” leaving human beings suddenly unanchored and exposed to what Nietzsche called nihilism-the sense that life, without transcendence, is void of inherent value or purpose.

            But Nietzsche’s fear ran deeper than the mere loss of religious belief. He warned of a civilization drifting into cultural stagnation and spiritual passivity if it did not courageously “revalue” its values, forging new standards rather than succumbing to a quiet despair. Without this creative response, society risks becoming Nietzsche’s “Last Man” (Thus Spoke Zarathustra, Prologue §5): content with comfort, distraction, and conformity, yet hollow and joyless, incapable of even asking life’s higher questions.

            Crucially, Nietzsche worried that the disappearance of God as the guarantor of moral order would undermine the very foundation of human equality and shared dignity. “Universal moral obligations,” once rooted in the sacred, now hang in the air, their authority questioned and their binding force weakened.

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The Übermensch and the Revaluation of Values

            Nietzsche’s project was not merely deconstructive. He challenged his contemporaries to become “Übermenschen”-overhumans, or creators of new values- who would affirm earthly existence and bestow meaning on a world bereft of traditional anchors. The Übermensch embodies the daring, creative spirit capable of overcoming nihilism by generating new purposes and ideals, rather than nostalgically clinging to the past or falling into resignation.

            For Nietzsche, this new type of human would no longer look to the heavens for a moral order but would act as a source of value themselves-“fellow creators… those who write new values on new tablets”.​

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Ayn Rand’s Objectivism: Autonomous Self as Savior?

            If Nietzsche sounded an alarm, Ayn Rand, in works like ‘Atlas Shrugged’ and ‘The Virtue of Selfishness’, built a full-fledged philosophy on the autonomy of the self. She claimed that rational self-interest is the highest moral calling, that compassion and humility are liabilities, and that only the productive, self-reliant individual deserves celebration. Rand’s “rational egoism” has become deeply embedded in modern forms of hyper-individualism: market-driven policies that privilege profit over people, social narratives that equate strength with worth, and even digital cultures that foster atomization over connection.​

            However, this valorization of self-sufficiency comes at a cost. Without a transcendent ground for concern for the other-without empathy as a foundational virtue-inequality, exclusion, and blaming the vulnerable become not just possible, but justified.

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 The Church’s Counter-Vision: Faith, Reason, and the Renewal of Empathy

            Against the backdrop of Nietzschean challenge and Randian individualism, the Catholic magisterium proposes an alternative rooted neither in nostalgia nor in mere self-assertion.

            John Paul II’s ‘Fides et Ratio’(1998) insists that meaning and dignity are safeguarded by the synthesis of faith and reason-not by reverting to uncritical faith, but by embracing both as co-foundations of human flourishing and social responsibility. He cautions that when faith and reason part ways, “humanity loses its horizon,” and our capacity for self-gift and empathy is diminished (Fides et Ratio, §46-48).

            Benedict XVI’s ‘Deus Caritas Est’ (2005) takes Nietzsche’s existential question seriously but answers with a proclamation: God is love, not mere projection, but the very ground of being-“the only light which can constantly illuminate a world grown dim” (§39). Love, in this logic, is the deepest foundation for human community and dignity, rescuing us from both despair and egotism.

            Pope Francis, in ‘Fratelli Tutti’ (2020), addresses the fruits of contemporary individualism: social fragmentation, technocratic isolation, and the “loss of the sense of belonging to a single human family” (§11–12, 33–36). His counter-program is fraternity-rediscovering empathy anchored in the transcendent Fatherhood of God, and building solidarity that sees the stranger and the poor not as burdens but as kin.

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 Rebuilding Meaning: From Isolation to Communion

            Nietzsche’s insight remains acute: we do indeed live amid a collapse of shared meaning and the temptation of nihilistic self-enclosure. Rand’s philosophy still lures with the promise of autonomy and the mirage of control. But the Church, drawing together the wisdom of faith and reason, proposes that empathy, altruism, and communion- not simply power or autonomy- are at the core of authentic human greatness.

            This is not a call to impose belief but to rekindle the capacity for empathy and transcendent care- a vocation open to all, regardless of creed. In an era haunted by isolation and relentless competition, perhaps the most radical question is not whether God is dead, but whether we can still recognize His love, alive and urgent among us, calling us back to a life lived for others.

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 References

Nietzsche, Friedrich. The Gay Science, §108, §125 (1882).

Nietzsche, Friedrich. Thus Spoke Zarathustra, Prologue §5 (1883–1891).​

Ayn Rand. The Virtue of Selfishness (Signet ed., 1964), pp. 13–35.

Ayn Rand. Atlas Shrugged (Random House, 1957), esp. Part III, Ch. 7.

John Paul II. Fides et Ratio (1998), §§46–48.

Benedict XVI. Deus Caritas Est (2005), §§1–8, 39.

Francis. Fratelli Tutti (2020), §§11–12, 33–36.

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Mary, the Channel of Grace: Rethinking Mater Populi Fidelis in Light of Tradition

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By Savio Saldanha SJ

DOI: 10.5281/zenodo.17558110

November 7, 2025

                       The recent release of Mater Populi Fidelis by the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith has reignited thoughtful debate about Mary’s role in salvation. Some commentators worry that this document discourages cherished titles like “Mediatrix of All Graces,” citing a rich legacy of papal statements and devotional practice. Others welcome the Vatican’s clarification as needed guidance for ecumenical sensitivity and Christ-centered doctrine. This article examines how Mater Populi Fidelis refines the wisdom of tradition, showing that fidelity to the Church does not mean abandoning the spirituality of the past, but carrying it forward with precision and care.

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Tradition of Mary as Channel of All Graces

            Critics rightly point to a long lineage of papal teaching—Pius IX, Leo XIII, Pius XI, and Benedict XV—emphasizing Mary’s role as the "treasurer of all graces" and spiritual intercessor:

“God has committed to Mary the treasury of all good things, in order that everyone may know that through her are obtained every hope, every grace, and all salvation. For this is His will, that we obtain everything through Mary.”
— Pius IX, Ubi Primum (1849) 

“With equal truth may it be also affirmed that, by the will of God, Mary is the intermediary through whom is distributed unto us this immense treasure of mercies gathered by God.”

— Leo XIII, Octobri Mensis (1891)

“None, O Mother of God, attains salvation except through thee; none receives a gift from the throne of mercy except through thee.”

— Leo XIII, Adiutricem (1895)

“God in His most merciful Providence gave us this Mediatrix and decreed that all good should come to us by the hands of Mary.”

— Pope Benedict XV, Fausto Appetente Die (1921)

            Such doctrine is affirmed also through the liturgical honor given to Mary as "Mediatrix of All Graces," evidenced by the Feast authorized by Benedict XV in 1921 and the teachings of St Louis Marie de Montfort.

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Mater Populi Fidelis: What Changes—and What Continues

 Rather than overturning this patrimony, Mater Populi Fidelis provides a careful refinement. It:

 a. Affirms Mary’s unique intercessory and maternal role:

            “Mary prays for her children and intercedes for them before her Son. Her mediation belongs to the order of intercession: she prays for her children and intercedes for them before her Son.” - MPF, §6, §38​.

 b. Insists on Christ’s unique mediation:

            “No human mediation can be understood apart from or on the same level as that of Christ. The uniqueness of Christ’s mediation is the foundation and measure of every other form of participation in the work of salvation.” - MPF, §64.​

 c. Retains Marian devotion as a ‘treasure of the Church,’ encouraging the faithful ‘to appreciate, admire, and encourage’ rather than restrict or correct popular piety:

            “Marian devotion, which Mary’s motherhood engenders, is presented here as a treasure of the Church. The piety of the faithful People of God who find in Mary refuge, strength, tenderness, and hope is not contemplated here to correct it but, above all, to appreciate, admire, and encourage it.” - MPF Presentation.

 d. Clarifies theological vocabulary: Terms like ‘Co-Redemptrix’ and ‘Mediatrix of All Graces’ may be used in a subordinate, intercessory sense, and with precise theological boundaries:

            “Some titles, such as Mediatrix of All Graces, have limits that do not favor a correct understanding of Mary’s unique place. In fact, she, the first redeemed, could not have been the mediatrix of the grace that she herself received.” - MPF, §67.

            “The title Co-redemptrix ... risks obscuring Christ’s unique salvific mediation and can therefore create confusion and an imbalance in the harmony of the truths of the Christian faith... For this reason, it is not acceptable to present Mary’s action as if God needed her to accomplish salvation.” - MPF, §22, §65.

 These clarifications are consistent with Vatican II, particularly Lumen Gentium:

            “The holy Fathers see Mary not merely as a passive instrument in the hands of God, but as freely cooperating in the work of human salvation through faith and obedience.”

— Lumen Gentium 56

 And with the Catechism:

“The mission of the Magisterium is … to preserve God’s people from deviations and defections and to guarantee them the objective possibility of professing the true faith without error … that the People of God abides in the truth that liberates.”

— CCC 890

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Responding to the Critical Claims

            Critics have argued that the Church’s tradition affirms Mary as the channel for all grace, citing authoritative papal sources. Mater Populi Fidelis does not contradict these sources but contextualizes them: it teaches that Mary’s mediation is always dependent upon and participates in Christ’s unique role as Redeemer. Pope Benedict XV and Pope Pius XI did not declare Mary a secondary source for grace, but consistently described her as receiving “the treasury of grace” to intercede for humanity. The Church’s doctrine, summarized by Pope Pius XII in the canonization decree for St Louis Marie de Montfort, confirms:

“God wants us to have everything through Mary … a doctrine all theologians at the present time hold in common accord.”

But this “through Mary” is always “in Christ.” As St John Paul II clarified:

"In the Virgin Mary, everything is in reference to Christ and dependent upon him … her motherhood is joined to the salvific mystery of Christ as an instrument willed by the Father in his plan of salvation."

— Redemptoris Mater

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 Continuity and Refinement

            Mater Populi Fidelis thus does not abolish old doctrine, but clarifies its intent for pastoral coherence and ecumenical understanding. It teaches:

• Mary’s intercession is powerful, maternal, and tender—a channel of Christ’s mercy, not a rival.
• Titles must never obscure Christ’s mediation nor create confusion about the hierarchy of grace in salvation.
• Devotion to Mary draws believers deeper into union with Christ, not away from the Gospel.
  “His mother said to the servants, ‘Do whatever he tells you.’” (Jn.2:5)​

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 Conclusion

            The new Vatican document, Mater Populi Fidelis, stands firmly in the tradition of Marian wisdom, deepening and sustaining Catholic spirituality. Rather than diminishing devotion, the Church encourages believers to see Mary’s intercession as the tender face of God’s mercy—always subordinate, always pointing to Christ. In safeguarding clear doctrine, the Church also guards the richness of Marian spirituality, ensuring that every form of cooperation truly leads to deeper faith in the one Mediator, Jesus Christ.

            As Jesus entrusted Mary to the beloved disciple with the words, “Here is your mother” (John 19:27), he invited every believer into a relationship of spiritual kinship with Mary. In welcoming her as our mother, the Church is reminded that Marian devotion flows directly from the heart of Christ’s own gift—a maternal presence given to every disciple, for every age.

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References

• Pius IX, Ubi Primum (1849), Ineffabilis Deus (1854)
• Leo XIII, Octobri Mensis (1891), Adiutricem (1895)
• Benedict XV, Fausto Appetente Die (1921)
• Pius XI, Ingravescentibus Malis (1937)
• St Louis Marie de Montfort, True Devotion to Mary
• Second Vatican Council, Lumen Gentium
• Catechism of the Catholic Church, 890
• Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith, Mater Populi Fidelis (2025)

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