Our pastor begins a pretty hectic travel schedule which puts me in the chute for a whole bunch of daily communion services. These are held, like daily mass, in the small chapel behind the main sanctuary, which is the original church building and has been combined with a small fellowship hall. The weekday crowds are small but very regular. Language alternates by day, English and Spanish, and we do Exposition and Benediction on Thursday evenings beforehand. Sometimes I preach, sometimes I don’t. Today was one of the days I didn’t. As our homiletic instructors told us, if you have nothing to say, don’t take ten minutes to say it.

In other news: I’m very eagerly awaiting for Magnifica Humanitas to drop. I’ve been mulling on this for awhile now and trying to figure out a way to properly assess AI personally, professionally, and pastorally. What I’ve gotten to so far is a series of questions for reflection on the use of AI for any particular task or outcome:

First, does this use supplement human judgment and prudence, or substitute for them? Will the person - for whom the work exists, and not the other way around - be freer from drudgery and tedium?

Second, does the pace of adoption allow for deliberation and the exercise of prudence?

Third, to whom do the benefits of this use accrue? Who bears the costs of this decision, even - or especially - if the costs are not necessarily reflected in a P&L statement?

These questions, I hope, distinguish between an outright rejection of AI, which seems unsustainable on the one hand, and wholesale, at-all-costs adoption on the other. By treating them as morally neutral tools, we consider whether or not their use contributes to human flourishing or risks deskilling, marginalization, or injury to agency.

Nothing new on the book front. Proust certainly does have a handle on adolescent romantic angst as experienced by someone who spends entirely too much time in his own head. Thinking back to early teens…yeah, pretty much nails it.