“You are the salt of the earth. But if salt loses its taste, with what can it be seasoned? It is no longer good for anything but to be thrown out and trampled underfoot.”
1. Lectio
Gospel: Matthew 5:13–16
By their deeds the disciples are to influence the world for good. They can no more escape notice than a city set on a mountain. If they fail in good works, they are as useless as flavorless salt or as a lamp whose light is concealed.
The unusual supposition of salt losing its flavor has led some to suppose that the saying refers to the salt of the Dead Sea that, because chemically impure, could lose its taste.
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2. Meditatio
“You are the salt of the earth.”
The paradox of salt is that one rarely notices it until it is absent. Nobody gathers the family around the table to praise the seasoning. Yet remove it, and the meal becomes strangely empty. Salt performs its work by disappearing into something greater than itself.
Perhaps that is the question my spiritual director posed to me without posing it. He sent me an article by Fr. Ignatius Schweitzer, O.P., entitled “AI vs. Interiority and the Depths of the Word.” He gave no explanation. Like the Lord Himself, spiritual directors often leave one to wrestle with mysteries rather than supplying answers.
At first I wondered whether the article was a warning. Have I become salt that has lost its savor? Has my daily use of AI in practicing Lectio Divina rendered my prayer superficial, mechanical, or dependent upon a machine?
Yet I was struck by Father Schweitzer’s insistence that Lectio Divina and contemplative engagement with the Word of God bear “the depths of interiority that capture the heart of what the human being is as a bearer of the word of love.” Perhaps the article was not a condemnation but an encouragement. Perhaps it was a reminder that the salt is not AI, nor is it my own cleverness. The salt is the Word itself.
There are two ways of getting home, and one of them is to stay there. AI, like every technology, can either carry me away from home or assist me in returning to it. The danger lies not in the tool but in forgetting the destination.
Building for the common good requires an evangelical language. I must not become flavorless salt by employing humiliating words or antagonistic speech. Neither may I surrender to naïve enthusiasm that treats technology as salvation, nor to unfounded fears that treat it as the Antichrist.
Instead, I must season my words with charity and discernment. The dignity of the human person, the universal destination of goods, the preferential option for the poor, care for our common home, and peace—these are the measures by which every technology ought to be judged.
My conscience tells me that these daily Lectio Divinas, aided by AI, have encouraged reflection, dialogue, and prayer. Yet conscience itself needs formation. Left to myself, I am capable of confusing novelty with wisdom and efficiency with holiness. That is why I need the Church, spiritual directors, saints, and friends who can help season my soul lest I become impure salt and be trampled underfoot—not by AI, but by my own pride.
For the danger is not that machines become human.
The danger is that humans become machines.
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3. Oratio
Lord Jesus,
You have called me to be salt and light, not because of my brilliance, but because of Your grace.
Preserve me from becoming tasteless through pride, bitterness, or self-reliance.
Grant me the humility to receive correction, the patience to discern wisely, and the courage to embrace new tools without surrendering my soul to them.
Bless those who accompany me on the journey of faith—my spiritual directors, teachers, friends, and family—who help form my conscience and call me back to You.
Through the intercession of Saint Ephrem, whose words nourished the Church like salt preserving what is good, teach me to savor Your Word more than my own opinions.
May everything I read, write, and speak ultimately glorify You.
Amen.
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4. Contemplatio (Chestertonian Synthesis)
Incorporating thoughts about Saint Ephrem, Deacon and Doctor of the Church
Saint Ephrem sang theology rather than merely explaining it. He understood that truth is not only something to be analyzed but something to be adored.
There is a Chestertonian absurdity in the fact that a deacon armed with hymns has outlived emperors armed with armies. Salt is stronger than steel because it preserves.
Saint Ephrem knew that language itself must be seasoned. Without wonder, theology becomes ideology. Without poetry, truth becomes propaganda. Without prayer, knowledge becomes noise.
The modern world fears mystery because mystery refuses to be controlled. Yet mystery is not the enemy of reason; it is the horizon toward which reason walks.
Artificial intelligence can arrange words, but only a human heart touched by grace can turn words into prayer.
And so I discover that being salt does not mean dominating the meal. It means disappearing into it.
The saints are remembered not because they made themselves noticeable, but because they made Christ noticeable.
The world does not need Christians who are louder.
It needs Christians who are saltier.
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5. Actio
Inspired by Laudato Si’ and Synodality
Pope Francis writes:
> *”The poverty and austerity of Saint Francis were no mere veneer of asceticism, but something much more radical: a refusal