Hey all. John here!
You don’t have to teach in a religious school to sense that something of biblical proportions is happening in education right now. Artificial intelligence isn’t a passing trend. It’s a structural shift. And even institutions that have weathered two thousand years of technological progress are trying to decide where they stand.
(And for full disclosure before we go any further: yes, I’m Catholic. And yes, I spent ten years teaching in a Catholic high school. If neither of those things applies to you? You’re still in the right place. Because today’s post isn’t really about religion. It’s about calling, craft, and how we think about our work in an age of artificial intelligence.)
Last week, in a closed-door meeting with clergy from the Diocese of Rome, Pope Leo XIV reportedly urged priests to resist the temptation to prepare homilies with artificial intelligence. His reasoning was strikingly human: like any muscle, the brain must be exercised or it weakens. A homily, he argued, is not simply information delivery. It is the sharing of faith. Which (in theory, at least?) is still something that no chatbot can do.
It’s a fascinating line in the sand. On one hand, the warning feels principled and protective. On the other, the Vatican announced its own AI-powered translation system — a tool designed to make liturgical texts accessible in dozens of languages in real time. the very same day. Fascinatingly, it seems that even some of the most ancient institutions on the planet are now navigating this tension in public view.
Which raises a question for us teacher-types of the world:
If a priest outsourcing a homily feels like a betrayal of calling, what does it mean when a teacher uses AI to help draft a lesson plan?
Is that a loss of intellectual muscle? Or is it simply a new kind of collaboration?
“Machinery is aggressive. The weaver becomes a web, the machinist a machine. If you do not use the tools, they use you. All tools are in one sense edge-tools, and dangerous.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson
A photo (and a quote) from my 11th grade Honors English classroom at Bishop O’Connell High School, 2017
Now let’s set the record straight: teachers are not pastors.
Our work may feel like a calling. But we are not standing at a pulpit proclaiming sacred doctrine. We are designing learning.
In a church setting, a homily is proclamation. It moves in one direction from preacher to congregation, and its authority is rooted in presence and conviction. In that context, outsourcing the words can feel like outsourcing the calling itself.
Teaching, however (at least the kind we claim to value) isn’t proclamation. It isn’t a perfectly polished monologue delivered to a silent room. It’s an ongoing act of design. We shape questions. We structure experiences. We adjust and refine in response to real students in real time, creating the kinds of moments where productive struggle leads to genuine insight.
And if we’re honest, AI isn’t the first time we’ve faced this tension.
Long before chatbots entered the picture, entire marketplaces were built around ready-to-run lessons, pre-written review games, and plug-and-play packets — the instructional equivalent of “just add water.” Download. Print. Distribute. Done.
Convenient? No question. But when every word is pre-filled and every question predetermined, the teacher’s role quietly shifts from designer to distributor. The muscle at risk isn’t simply our writing voice; it’s our professional judgment.
That distinction matters.
At EMC² Learning, we’ve always believed that the framework can be shared — but the content belongs to the teacher. We build structures for playful, human-centered learning. You bring the curriculum, the context, the expertise, and the lived understanding of your students.
A framework can open up possibility, but the responsibility for bringing it to life has always belonged to the teacher.
AI presents a similar crossroads. It can become a shortcut that replaces thinking, or it can serve as a tool that sharpens it. It can help you brainstorm variations, draft scaffolds, surface counterarguments, or explore differentiation strategies. What it cannot do is know your students. It cannot read the room, sense hesitation, pivot mid-lesson, or recognize the subtle flicker of understanding that tells you it’s time to press further.
The risk isn’t that AI might assist in drafting a lesson outline. The risk is that we begin to mistake lesson writing for learning itself.
Which brings us back to the headline of this blog post.
Perhaps the real commandment isn’t “Thou shalt not use ChatGPT.” Perhaps it’s something more enduring: do not abdicate your calling.
Tools have always been part of the work. The question is whether we use them deliberately, or allow them to use us. If AI drafts something and we deliver it unchanged, unexamined, unadapted, then something essential does begin to atrophy. But if it becomes a thinking partner — something we question, refine, challenge, and reshape in light of our students and our context — then the muscle isn’t disappearing. It’s being exercised differently.
Priests share faith; that act depends on presence in a way that cannot be automated. Teachers design learning, and that responsibility cannot be outsourced without consequence.
In an age defined by artificial intelligence, the most consequential decision may not be whether we reject the tool, but whether we remain fully engaged in the work it touches.
That conviction shapes everything we build at EMC² Learning. We don’t write scripts for teachers to recite. We design frameworks meant to be inhabited, adapted, and elevated by professionals who understand their students and their curriculum better than any algorithm ever could. Our resources are intentionally content-agnostic because the expertise lives in the classroom.
Technology will continue to evolve. So should our thinking. But the commitment to human-centered design, professional judgment, and a vibrant community of educators who take their craft seriously? That is the muscle worth strengthening.
And that is the work we’re here to support.
The design philosophy outlined in this blog entry help inform each of the 1,100+ resources available and on their way to arrive shortly in the EMC² Learning library. This entire library is available to all members with an active Engagement Engineer or Engagement Engineer PLUS account, and is included with your annual site membership. We hope you’ll consider joining us as an Engagement Engineer to unlock a full year of site access. For complete details including our exclusive limited time offer for annual site membership, click here.
