How Humanity Shapes Its Own Future and the Catholic Church’s Response: Cardinal Brislin’s Address to the Pope at the Consistory

Cardenal Stephen Brislin 

(ZENIT News / Vatican City, 06.27.2026).- On the morning of Saturday, June 27, in the presence of the Holy Father, the Archbishop of Johannesburg, Cardinal Stephen Brislin, delivered an introductory address on the topic the cardinals were discussing that day in the consistory. This was the third session, following the two held on Friday, June 26. Cardinal Brislin’s address was titled “Building for the Common Good: The Construction Projects of Our Time.” The full text of the address is provided below:

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‘Building for the common good: the building sites of our time’  

Holy Father and Most Reverend Eminences,

In my reflection, I would like to focus on the relationship between the introduction and the conclusion  of Magnifica Humanitas, as I believe that their complementarity unveils the theological framework  underpinning the entire encyclical. The reading I suggest is straightforward: the opening pages pose  some crucial questions about the way in which humanity shapes its own future, while the closing  pages show how these questions find a Christian answer in the form of the theological virtues, lived  out in history and sustained by prayer.

The encyclical begins its path with a comparison between Babel and Jerusalem. This choice is  significant, because both cities evoke shared human endeavour. In both, people build, and they build  together, in a collective building site, each with its own plan and organisation.

The decisive point, however, concerns the direction taken by the desire that animates the basic nature  of building. Babel turns in on itself, transforming human intelligence into a project of self-sufficiency.  It demonstrates that unity sought without God ultimately leads to the confusion of tongues—that is,  to fragmentation and disintegration.

The reconstruction of the walls of Jerusalem, on the other hand, points to an endeavour in which  human intelligence, placed at the service of God, reaches the highest form of building: an activity  capable of promoting the dignity of every person and allowing it to flourish.

In this way, Magnifica Humanitas raises, right from the outset, a question that runs through the entire  encyclical: what form does human endeavour take when it has access to ever more effective tools?  The question certainly concerns artificial intelligence and new technologies, but it extends even more  broadly: does a greater sense of responsibility accompany progress in the realm of technical means?

or does such progress expose the human person to new forms of exclusion and reductionism?

I. The Introduction: Four Phases of Synodal Construction 

The introduction addresses this question through a hermeneutical exercise that shifts the focus from  an assessment of the power of technical means to the way of life they help to generate. We must ask  ourselves, not only to what extent these means are capable of transforming reality, but in what  direction they do so. In other words, do the possibilities opened up by innovation foster more just  relationships, institutions that are more attentive to the person, and a truly shared future.

For this reason, the encyclical begins with an appeal to everyone to pay attention to the way in which  we are building together. Clearly, technical tools are embedded within political, economic, social and  educational processes that profoundly shape the quality of our shared life. Building together thus  appears as a response to the temptation to indulge in technological progress for its own sake and, at  the same time, as a bulwark against its potentially disruptive effects.

For believers, this call takes on a particular significance: to rediscover and value synodality as a  specific form of building together as the Church (no. 10).

Synodality, in fact, is the visible, concrete trace of the communion from which the Church is born  and grows. As a concrete way of being present, listening and sharing responsibility, synodality enables believers to enter the building site of history without fear of getting their hands dirty (no. 16). However, the introduction does not merely issue a generic call for cooperation. Rather, it offers a  ‘grammar of building’, as it sets out a number of essential anthropological principles aimed at  understanding how this common endeavour can truly be directed towards the good of the person. This  grammar is structured around four elements: desire, limitation, shared responsibility, and  discernment.

The first element of this grammar is the human desire for happiness (no. 11). New technologies  promise a more comfortable life, one less exposed to suffering. The encyclical takes this desire  seriously, for such desire belongs to the very fabric of the human condition, so it deserves to be  safeguarded in its truth. When happiness is reduced to performance or control, it impoverishes the  person; when it is shaped by faith, it rediscovers its proper measure in our relationship with God, with  others and with our common home.

Desire must, however, come to terms with the reality of limits (no. 12) inherent in our condition as  creatures, reminding us that life is a gift to be received and safeguarded. For this reason, rediscovering  a sense of our limitations helps to educate the human mind to move beyond the illusion of self sufficiency. Whereas when fragility is viewed merely as an imperfection to be corrected or  eliminated, it becomes more difficult to recognise the value of lives marked by illness, disability or  old age.

From the recognition of limits springs courageous shared responsibility (no. 13). The image of ‘each  person building their own section of the wall’ concretely illustrates the principle of subsidiarity: the  common good flourishes when every individual can contribute their part and be supported in doing  so. No one possesses the entire project; no one builds alone. Subsidiarity thus appears as a form of  orderly participation, in which individuals, communities and institutions contribute according to their  own expertise and vocation.

This shared responsibility requires criteria for discernment (no. 14). The principles of the Church’s  social doctrine help us to interpret historical processes, to assess the promises of technology, and to  distinguish what serves the person from what exposes them to new forms of dependence or exclusion.

II. The Conclusion: Theological Fulfilment 

The conclusion takes up the ‘grammar of building’ outlined in the introduction and shows how it is  fulfilled in the life of the believer. In the age of technology, discernment regarding human action  should consider the theological form of Christian existence: faith shapes our outlook or perspective,  charity fosters communion, and hope sustains the building of the civilisation of love. Prayer in the  Spirit, contemplated through the figure of Mary, safeguards the inner unity of this spiritual  topography.

Faith opens the way, first and foremost, to contemplate the plan of mercy that runs through history  (no. 230). To build for the common good, we must recognise that the human journey is sustained by a logic of gift, at the heart of which lies the mystery of the Incarnation. The Word takes on the human  condition, enters into the fragile flesh of humankind and transforms it into a place of salvation (no.  232). In this light, the theme of limitation, introduced in the preface, receives its Christological  answer: what appeared as a sign of finitude is taken up by the Son and opens up to redemption. The  recapitulation in Christ brings this dynamic to fulfilment: what is authentically human is purified,  transformed and handed over to the Father (no. 233). Limititation thus appears as the place where the  human and the divine meet.

Charity finds its sacramental source in the Eucharist. Building together, which was described in the  introduction as a synodal form of action for believers, finds here its deepest foundation: the Body of  Christ, given for the life of the world, brings forth the Church as a body called to communion (nos.  234–235). Eucharistic communion thus shapes the Christian way of living out history, teaching us to  recognise others as brother and sister, to bear their burdens and to share responsibility with them for  our common endeavour. From this perspective, the synodality of building emerges as a historical  expression of charity, which the Eucharist nourishes and makes possible.

Hope gives the journey its historical concreteness. Building the civilisation of love means continuing  to cooperate with the work that Christ inaugurated in the Paschal Mystery (no. 236). In this light, we  can understand the ‘situated anthropocentrism’ proposed by the encyclical: technical possibilities are  welcomed within a journey of wisdom, oriented towards the dignity of the person and the care of our  common home (no. 237). The discernment outlined in the introduction thus becomes a practical  responsibility, capable of being translated into education, the nurturing of relationships, appreciation  of physical presence, and union between prayer and active commitment (nos. 238–241). The  courageous shared responsibility mentioned at the outset thus takes the form of ecclesial service  capable of living in the present with confidence and clarity.

Finally, prayer opens theological life to the action of the Holy Spirit. Mary is held up before the  Church as the one who knows how to recognise, within the fabric of history, the hidden workings of  God who directs all things towards their fulfilment in Christ (no. 243). Her gaze teaches us to interpret  events from the perspective of the little ones, recognising what the logic of efficiency has difficulty  seeing (no. 244). Fostering hope therefore also means guiding artificial intelligence so that, in the  concrete reality of the present time, it may become a possible step towards the civilisation of love  (no. 245).

III. The coherence of the document 

The virtuous circle between the introduction and the conclusion reveals the profound coherence of  Magnifica Humanitas. The encyclical opens by asking what form human building should take in the  age of technological power; it closes by showing that, for believers, this question concerns the very  form of Christian life. Building for the good means allowing oneself to be shaped by faith, fostering  communion through charity, and sustaining commitment through hope. The conclusion thus  completes the metaphor of building introduced at the beginning: Babel and Jerusalem raise the  question of the direction of human endeavour; the civilisation of love reveals its fulfilment.

In this sense, Magnifica Humanitas entrusts the Church with a specific responsibility: to engage with  the struggles of history in its own distinctive way, adopting a synodal approach, rooted in the  theological virtues, and focused on serving the individual.

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