In May 2026, Pope Leo XIV released his first encyclical, Magnifica Humanitas ("Magnificent Humanity"), a major reflection on artificial intelligence and what it means to be human in an age of rapidly advancing technology.
The Pope's argument is that AI is not merely a technical issue. It raises deeper questions about human identity, dignity, truth, freedom, and power. Who should control these powerful technologies? What happens when more of our lives are shaped by systems we do not understand? What does it mean to remain human when machines can increasingly perform tasks once thought uniquely ours?
These are questions thoughtful Christians should be wrestling with. While Protestants will disagree with parts of the encyclical, it deserves serious engagement. It attempts to answer some of the most pressing moral and spiritual questions of our time, and does so with more theological weight than many pastors, even Reformed ones, have managed so far.
What Pope Leo’s Encyclical Gets Right
First, it defends human dignity on the right grounds.
The strongest part of the encyclical is its insistence that human beings have unique dignity because they are made in the image of God. This matters because many of today's technological movements — transhumanism especially — assume that humanity is something to be upgraded or redesigned. The Roman Catholic Church, and the Pope, reject this. Human limitations are not mistakes to be engineered away. We are creatures made by God, and our worth comes from Him, not from our capabilities or our productivity. Bible-believing Christians should welcome this. It is the right argument made in the right terms.
Second, it names the danger of pride with clarity.
The encyclical repeatedly points to the Tower of Babel from Genesis as a warning for our age. Recall the story. As the people of Babel sought to make a name for themselves apart from God, so Pope Leo argues that much of today's technological ambition reflects the same temptation. Promises of greater power, greater control, even the overcoming of human limitation, all of it undergirded by the ancient sin of pride. This diagnosis is true. The greatest danger of AI is not technology. It is from within the human heart of the one who uses it. Powerful tools in the hands of proud people have caused enormous harm, and we have never had tools this powerful.
Third, it is not naive about power and injustice.
The Pope also recognises that technology is never neutral. AI systems are built by people, funded by institutions, and shaped by particular interests and values. The encyclical warns plainly about the concentration of power in a handful of corporations whose resources exceed those of many governments, the displacement of workers, the spread of disinformation, and the exploitation of vulnerable communities. Christians should care about these things. Scripture adjures us to protect the weak and pursue justice, and the encyclical is right to insist that the AI age makes these obligations more urgent.
Where the Encyclical Falls Short
First, it does not take sin seriously enough.
The encyclical identifies pride as a problem, but it stops short of addressing how deep the problem goes. Scripture teaches that the noetic effects of sin are such that it corrupts every part of us — our desires, our thinking, our institutions, and even our best intentions. The document's prescriptions naturally flow from its inadequate diagnosis: more dialogue, better regulation, shared responsibility, international cooperation. These are not bad things, but they are flawed answers to a misdiagnosed problem. Better to understand what the Bible actually has to say about us. It is not simply that human beings sometimes misuse power. Our problem is us. Our hearts are corrupt, and fallen human beings will find new ways to corrupt the best structures we build. Consider the account of Nehemiah, which the encyclical raises as a positive model of patient, prayerful community-building — which he was. But it was the favor of God that moved him, the heart of his people, and even the pagan king that enabled his project to succeed. Only by sovereign grace working in the human heart, can true peace on earth finally come to pass.
Second, it does not offer the Gospel as the answer.
This is the encyclical's deepest weakness. It diagnoses real problems and points toward real values — dignity, community, justice, responsibility, prayer. But the Gospel itself, the actual Good News that Jesus Christ died for sinners and rose again, remains largely in the background. Pastor Kevin DeYoung has stated the church's core task plainly: "The mission of the church is to go into the world and make disciples by declaring the gospel of Jesus Christ in the power of the Spirit and gathering these disciples into churches, that they might worship and obey Jesus Christ now and in eternity to the glory of God the Father." Humanity's deepest problem is thus not technological — it is spiritual. We are sinners separated from God, and no innovation, education, or policy reform changes that. What we need is reconciliation with God, and that comes only through Jesus Christ. His life, death, and resurrection are the only power that can produce the humility, wisdom, and genuine love for neighbour that a technological age desperately needs. Without changed hearts, even the best technologies will eventually be turned toward pride and self-interest. The encyclical sees the problem but does not reach far enough for the cure.
Third, it gives the church the wrong primary mission.
The encyclical presents the Church as a key institution for guiding humanity toward a better future — a kind of moral convenor for the whole human race. Theologian Albert Mohler has written plainly about where the line falls between Rome and the Reformation: the divide, he writes, remains on the Gospel itself — "not right on the papacy, not right on the sacraments, not right on the priesthood, not right on the Gospel." Christians certainly should care about society and justice. But the church's primary calling is not to save civilisation. It is to proclaim Jesus Christ — to preach the Gospel, make disciples, worship God, and build up believers in the faith. When the church drifts from that, it does not gain influence. It loses the one thing the world needs most from it. The world does not ultimately need another institution managing social problems. It needs the message of salvation.
Magnifica Humanitas is worth the time of a thoughtful Christian reader. Its defence of human dignity is strong, its warnings about pride and concentrated power are perceptive, and its concern for vulnerable people is genuine. But the document points ultimately to the wrong solution.
The deepest threat posed by AI is not artificial intelligence. It is fallen humanity. And the answer to fallen humanity is not better technology, better regulation, or better-designed communities. It is the gospel of Jesus Christ — the only word that can reconcile us to God, transform the human heart, and produce people capable of using extraordinary power with wisdom and love.
The real question of the AI age is not whether machines will become more human. It is whether humans will remember their need for Christ.
This article has been researched and written with the help of AI.