Lectio Divina — Memorial of Saint Augustine, Bishop and Doctor of the Church
Theme: wise
1. Lectio — What is God saying to me?
> “Five of them were foolish and five were wise.”
— Matthew 25:2
The difference between the foolish and wise virgins is not that one group knows when the bridegroom will arrive. None of them knows. All become drowsy. All fall asleep. The difference is that the wise have prepared themselves for an arrival they cannot schedule.
Their lamps have oil.
On the Memorial of Saint Augustine, that distinction strikes me. Augustine was extraordinarily intelligent long before he became wise. His intellect carried him through philosophy, rhetoric and Manichaeism, but intelligence alone could not satisfy the restlessness within him. Wisdom required something more: humility before Truth.
Perhaps that is what Jesus asks of me. I have nearly unlimited information available to me. But possessing information is not the same as possessing oil for my lamp.
So I ask:
Am I becoming better informed—or am I becoming wise?
2. Meditatio — What is God saying to my life?
Here at The Glenn, I live surrounded by things that do not require a screen to tell me what they are.
A sheep gets hungry. A livestock guardian dog sees something I cannot see. Rain falls—or doesn’t. Grass grows according to conditions rather than my preferences. Animals need feeding whether the news is interesting that morning or not.
Creation continually invites me back into reality.
Yet the media and digital world have become nearly omnipresent in my life. I carry access to an enormous portion of humanity’s accumulated information in my pocket. News, social media, videos, podcasts, opinions and now artificial intelligence can fill virtually every unoccupied moment.
But has having more information taught me to live more wisely?
Has it taught me to think deeply?
Has it taught me to love generously?
Or have I sometimes mistaken knowing about everything for understanding anything?
Saint Augustine gives me an uncomfortable companion for that question. He wanted to know. He searched. He argued. He followed ideas down roads that eventually proved incapable of satisfying him. Yet Augustine did not solve his restless heart by abandoning reason. He allowed reason to lead him beyond itself toward Truth.
His search for wisdom eventually required conversion.
Mine must too.
The digital world itself is neither my salvation nor necessarily my enemy. The question is whether I use these tools wisely or allow them to use my attention. Even artificial intelligence can help me gather information, explore Scripture and organize thoughts, but it cannot pray my Lectio Divina for me. It cannot repent for me. It cannot receive the Eucharist for me. It cannot love God or my neighbor for me.
Those require something no technology can automate:
myself.
Perhaps the oil in my lamp is accumulated through those ordinary practices that technology continually tempts me to hurry past—silence, prayer, Scripture, work, conversation, attention to creation, examination of conscience and generous love.
The foolish virgins discovered that wisdom cannot be downloaded at midnight.
Neither can I.
3. Oratio — What do I want to say to God?
Lord, make me wise, not merely informed.
Through the prayers of Saint Augustine, give me a restless heart that seeks Truth until it rests in you. Teach me to use technology without surrendering my attention, and to love more generously than I consume.
Keep oil in my lamp.
Amen.
4. Contemplatio — What word will I rest in?
Wise.
Magnifica humanitas places before me two construction projects: Babel and Jerusalem.
Both involve human ingenuity. Both involve people building something together. The difference is not technology itself, but what human beings are trying to build with it.
Babel asks what humanity can accomplish through its own power.
Jerusalem asks what a community can rebuild together through shared responsibility.
That distinction reaches directly into my digital life.
Every time I pick up my phone, open social media, publish something, search the internet or use artificial intelligence, I am not merely consuming technology. In some small way, I am helping to build the digital world.
So what am I building?
Am I adding another brick to Babel—seeking attention, influence, certainty, efficiency or the satisfaction of being right?
Or am I helping rebuild Jerusalem piece by piece—using these technologies to strengthen relationships, seek truth, defend human dignity, deepen communion and serve people who might otherwise remain unheard?
That is where today’s Gospel becomes particularly relevant.
The foolish virgins and the wise virgins possessed the same basic technology: lamps.
The lamp wasn’t the problem.
How they used it was.
The same is true of the technologies transforming my world. Artificial intelligence can extend human abilities dramatically, but increased capability does not automatically produce increased wisdom. A faster tool can help me travel toward Jerusalem—or simply allow me to reach Babel more quickly.
Saint Augustine reminds me that the greatest intellectual journey ultimately leads inward and upward. I can search the whole digital world and still avoid the God who is nearer to me than I am to myself.
Perhaps, then, Christian wisdom in the age of artificial intelligence begins with knowing when to use the tool—and knowing when to put it down.
At The Glenn, creation can teach me this. The sheep do not care how many followers I have. The dogs do not measure my productivity. The soil cannot be persuaded by rhetoric. Creation demands that I encounter reality as it actually is.
And Christ asks something even deeper.
He asks whether there is oil in my lamp.
Today, through the prayers of Saint Augustine, I will ask myself before entering the digital world:
Will what I am about to do help me live wisely, think deeply and love generously—and what am I helping to build: Babel or Jerusalem?
Memorial of Saint Augustine, Bishop and Doctor of the Church
