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September 14, 2026Dear friends in Christ,
I want to tell you about something I've been reflecting on, and something we'll be reflecting on together in the weeks ahead.
Like many of you, I've been watching the conversation around artificial intelligence with a mix of genuine interest and genuine unease. It is easy to treat this as a subject for engineers and economists — something happening out there, in labs and boardrooms, with little bearing on a Sunday morning at St. Benedict the Moor. I don't think that's true. What I've come to see, the more I read and pray about this, is that the questions this moment is raising are not new questions. They are the oldest questions our faith has ever answered: What are we owed? What is worth grasping, and what must instead be received? Who do we trust to tell us the truth? And when things grow uncertain, do we retreat into ourselves, or do we stay — present, embodied, together?
Beginning in about two weeks, the bulletin will carry a six-part series reflecting on exactly these questions. Each piece is short — a five-minute read — and each stands on its own, so there's no obligation to catch every installment to follow along. Together, they trace a single thread: the difference between a life spent grasping and a life spent receiving; between an idol that only ever mirrors us back to ourselves and real communion with people who can actually disagree with us, forgive us, and be forgiven; between the impulse to build a bunker and Christ's own choice to pitch his tent among us; between work reduced to mere output and work as a genuine share in God's creation; and finally, between the anxious alertness that burns out and the settled watchfulness — rooted, unhurried — that our tradition has always called us toward.
I want to be honest about why I'm doing this. It would be easy to write a series that simply warns about technology, and just as easy to write one that waves those concerns away. Neither is what I'm after. My hope is something else: that we would become a parish capable of thinking clearly and prayerfully about the world actually in front of us, without either fear or naivety — trusting that the same Gospel that met every previous age of upheaval has something real to say to this one too.
None of this requires any expertise. It requires only what our faith has always asked of us: attention, honesty, and a willingness to let old truths speak freshly into a new moment. I hope you'll read along, and I hope — more than that — you'll bring these questions into your own prayer, your own households, your own conversations with the people you love.
Watch for the first installment in about two weeks. In the meantime, know that you remain, as always, in my prayers.
In Christ,
Fr. Matthew Hawkins
Pastor, St. Benedict the Moor Parish