Why Bishop Strickland is wrong about Magnifica Humanitas

I recently read Bishop Joseph Strickland’s May 26th essay critiquing Pope Leo XIV’s encyclical Magnifica Humanitas (MH), and I wanted to comment on it by drawing insights from the encyclical itself.

One of the more surprising criticisms from Bishop Strickland is that the encyclical places humanity at the center and thus eclipses God, salvation, and the supernatural end of man. While the concern for preserving the primacy of God is commendable, the criticism ultimately fails because it misunderstands both the nature of Catholic Social Doctrine and the theological logic that has animated the Church’s social teaching from the nineteenth century through the present day.

The central issue is simple. Bishop Strickland assumes that a concentrated focus on the human person necessarily signals a diminished focus on God. Catholic theology has never accepted such a premise. In fact, the Incarnation itself destroys that assumption. Christianity is the religion of the Word made flesh (Jn 1:14). Christianity proclaims that God entered human history through a human nature (Phil 2:6–11). Christianity proclaims that Christ reveals both God and man (Gaudium et Spes, 22).

Consequently, a profound examination of the human person is often one of the most Christological activities the Church can undertake.

Pope Leo XIV begins his encyclical by grounding the entire discussion within the Gospel and within humanity’s relationship with God. The very structure of the document immediately situates Catholic Social Doctrine within salvation history. Chapter One bears the title “A Dynamic Approach Faithful to the Gospel” (MH, ch. 1). The final sections of that chapter culminate with “The authentic ‘more than human’: grace and Christian humanism” and “Two cities and two loves” (MH, 29–36). Those titles alone reveal a document profoundly concerned with the supernatural destiny of man rather than merely temporal prosperity.

Indeed, the Vatican’s own presentation of the encyclical emphasized that the purpose of the document is to ensure that the world “will come to recognize the human heart as the place where God desires to dwell”. That is a profoundly theological claim rooted in sanctification and communion with God.

The deeper difficulty with Bishop Strickland’s argument emerges when one examines the Church’s own understanding of Catholic Social Doctrine. The Compendium of the Social Doctrine of the Church explicitly teaches that social doctrine belongs to the Church’s evangelizing mission and exists within the broader framework of salvation. Paragraph 67 states that “the Church’s social doctrine is an integral part of her ministry of evangelization”. The Compendium continues by explaining that social doctrine “has the task of proclamation and also of denunciation”. Its purpose is ultimately ordered toward the redemption of the human person through Christ.

Even more directly, paragraph 38 teaches that “the salvation offered by Jesus Christ and the mission of evangelization and salvation entrusted by him to the Church embrace man in his entirety”. The same paragraph further teaches that “it is by means of the Church’s social doctrine that the Church proclaims God and His mystery of salvation in Christ to every human being.” The Church therefore addresses economic life, politics, labor, technology, culture, and social structures precisely because salvation concerns the whole human person and every dimension of human existence.

This is exactly what Leo XIV is doing.

His concern regarding artificial intelligence is fundamentally a concern regarding the human person created in the image of God. Leo writes that “the human person can never be reduced to data, utility, or computational process, for every person is created in the image of God and called to eternal communion with Him” (MH, 76). Such concerns arise directly from Christian anthropology. They arise because man is destined for communion with God.

Ironically, Bishop Strickland’s criticism would place him at odds with a long line of preconciliar papal teaching.

Consider Pope Leo XIII’s Rerum Novarum from 1891. Entire sections of that encyclical discuss wages, labor conditions, private property, unions, economics, and political obligations (RN, 3–45). Large portions of the document contain no extended discussion of heaven, hell, judgment, or personal repentance. Yet nobody seriously argues that Leo XIII abandoned Christocentrism. Why? Because the dignity of workers was being defended precisely because those workers were made by God and redeemed by Christ. Leo XIII explicitly taught that “the true worth and nobility of man lie in his moral qualities, that is, in virtue” (RN, 24).

Likewise, Pope Pius XI’s Quadragesimo Anno devoted extensive attention to economic systems, industrial organization, social reconstruction, and the proper ordering of society (QA, 53–148). Yet Pius XI simultaneously taught that “the ultimate and supreme end of society is the Creator Himself” (QA, 118). Pope Pius XII repeatedly addressed scientific progress, medicine, economics, and political order throughout his pontificate. Pope John XXIII’s Mater et Magistra and Pacem in Terris spent hundreds of paragraphs discussing social conditions, human rights, development, political structures, and international relations.

Were these documents theologically anthropological? Sure!

Were these documents anthropocentric? Of course not.

The reason is simple. Catholic social teaching begins with Christ and then applies Christ’s lordship to every area of life.

The Compendium itself explains this point beautifully. Paragraph 52 states that “God, in Christ, redeems not only the individual person, but also the social relations existing between men.” That statement destroys the false choice proposed by many critics. Catholicism does not force a choice between salvation and social doctrine because salvation transforms the whole human person and consequently transforms human relationships.

Even the Second Vatican Council repeatedly affirmed this principle. Gaudium et Spes famously declares that “it is only in the mystery of the Word made flesh that the mystery of man truly becomes clear” (GS, 22). The council’s intense focus on the human person flowed directly from Christology. The Church could devote significant attention to humanity precisely because God became man. This theological principle stretches back much further than Vatican II.

Saint Irenaeus wrote, “The glory of God is man fully alive; and the life of man consists in beholding God” (Against Heresies, IV.20.7). Human flourishing and divine glory belong together. One reaches its fulfillment in the other. That same logic permeates Magnifica Humanitas.

Far from sidelining salvation, Leo XIV continually returns to themes of grace, communion with God, Christian humanism, the Gospel, and the supernatural vocation of humanity. The encyclical explicitly teaches that “every authentic concern for human dignity finds its source in the mystery of the Incarnation and its fulfillment in the destiny to which Christ calls every human person” (MH, 34). It further teaches that “the Church’s social doctrine is inseparable from her mission of evangelization and salvation” (MH, 18). The encyclical concludes by affirming that “the Church’s service to humanity is ultimately ordered toward the salvation won by Christ and offered to every person through the Gospel” (MH, 142).

Furthermore, the document repeatedly identifies technological threats precisely because they endanger the conditions necessary for authentic human flourishing ordered towards God (MH, 72–92). When artificial intelligence weakens human reflection, diminishes communion, replaces authentic relationships, or encourages trans-humanist fantasies, the danger extends far beyond economics. The danger reaches the spiritual life itself.

This is why Leo XIV’s focus on AI is entirely appropriate. Every age presents its own challenges to the human person. Leo XIII addressed industrial capitalism. Pius XI addressed economic upheaval. John XXIII addressed nuclear tensions and global politics. John Paul II addressed totalitarianism and consumerism (Centesimus Annus). Benedict XVI addressed relativism and technological power (Caritas in Veritate). Francis addressed ecological degradation and technocracy (Laudato Si’).

Leo XIV has inherited an age increasingly tempted to replace human judgment with machines and human relationships with digital mediation. A pope who remained silent on such matters would be neglecting part of his pastoral office.

The salvation of souls remains the supreme law of the Church (1983 Code of Canon Law, can. 1752). Yet salvation never occurs in abstraction. Souls belong to human beings. Human beings live within cultures. Cultures shape families. Technologies influence cultures. Therefore, a pope concerned about salvation must inevitably address technology.

The irony of Bishop Strickland’s critique is that he correctly identifies the centrality of salvation while missing that Leo XIV is defending precisely the creature whom Christ came to save.

The Church has always understood that social doctrine without Christ degenerates into humanitarian activism. Yet the Church has equally understood that Christ without concern for the human person becomes a distorted abstraction disconnected from the Incarnation itself.

Pope Leo XIV avoids both errors.

His encyclical repeatedly roots human dignity in God (MH, 34, 76, 81). It repeatedly invokes the Gospel (MH, 18, 142). It repeatedly situates social doctrine within Christian anthropology (MH, 18, 34, 76). It repeatedly points toward grace and communion with God (MH, 29–36, 76, 81). Its concern for the human person flows from Christ and returns to Christ.

Ultimately, the deepest defense of Magnifica Humanitas is the Incarnation itself. God became man (Jn 1:14). Therefore, man matters. Christ assumed human nature (CCC 456–460). Therefore, human dignity matters. Christ died for sinners (Rom 5:8). Therefore, the human person matters. Christ rose from the dead to bring humanity into divine life (2 Pet 1:4). Therefore, safeguarding the human person from technological degradation becomes a profoundly Christian concern.

The Church has always preached salvation. The Church has always defended human dignity. These are deeply interconnected realities. In Leo XIV’s encyclical, they remain exactly where Catholic theology has always placed them: under the lordship of Jesus Christ and ordered toward eternal communion with Him (MH, 142).

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