Charles Hawkins

A few years ago, I asked an artificial intelligence program to describe what it could not do. It answered in the first person. “I am not conscious,” it explained. “I do not suffer. I do not have a continuing personal memory. I cannot accept moral responsibility.” The answer was accurate, but also strange. Here was a machine using the word “I” to explain that there was no real “I” behind its words. That strangeness now stands at the center of a growing public debate. Anthropic recently reported finding activity inside its Claude language model that resembles a “mental workspace.” The system seemed to gather information related to a task, hold some of it briefly, and use it to form a response. Because one major theory connects this kind of workspace with human consciousness, some have wondered whether Claude may show early signs of an inner life. Neuroscientist Anil Seth is not convinced. In a recent [Guardian essay](https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2026/jul/15/ai-consciousness-...

​ I recently read a report in the National Catholic Reporter about Cardinal Víctor Manuel Fernández, prefect of the Vatican’s Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith. Opening the dicastery’s plenary session, Fernández warned that anyone can now publish an opinion online and condemn others “as if speaking ex cathedra ,” even when the writer has studied little theology. ( National Catholic Reporter ⁠) It is an irresistible line. Anyone who has spent much time reading religious commentary online will recognize the phenomenon. The internet has produced an astonishing number of self-appointed guardians of orthodoxy. They possess no ecclesiastical office, sometimes little theological education, and almost never any pastoral responsibility for the people they judge. Yet they speak with a certainty that would make an ecumenical council appear indecisive. Fernández’s complaint could easily be dismissed as the irritation of an institutional authority confronted by unofficial critics. He has, ...

All stand or kneel. The Intercessor says Trusting in the compassion of God, whose mercy is over all creation, let us pray for the Church and for the world. For the Church throughout the world; for all bishops, priests, deacons, and laity; that the Church may proclaim the reign of God, welcome the stranger, defend the vulnerable, and bear witness to the reconciling love of Christ. God of compassion, Hear our prayer. For all the peoples and nations of the earth; for an end to war, violence, oppression, and terror; and for the grace to love our enemies, pray for those who persecute us, and seek the good even of those from whom we are divided. God of compassion, Hear our prayer. For refugees, immigrants, and all who live as strangers in lands not their own; for widows and orphans, for the poor and the dispossessed, and for all whose rights, safety, or dignity are threatened; that they may receive justice, food, shelter, and the protection of faithful communities. God of compassion, Hear ou...

Abraham lives in tents. A tent is not a permanent residence. It can be raised, taken down, and carried elsewhere. The image does not mean       that the faithful despise the world            or neglect the places where they live.  Abraham digs wells, negotiates with neighbors,       raises a family, and buries his dead. He lives fully where he has been placed. But he does not confuse the place where he lives       with the fulfillment of God’s promise. That is also the Church’s calling. We live in this country. We participate in its institutions. We vote, serve, teach, work, build, protest, obey,       and sometimes resist. We seek the good of our neighbors. But we do not confuse this country with the city of God. Every flag flies beneath the judgment of God. Every constitution remains a human document. Every nation is temporary. Only God’s kingdom endures.   The ...

Reading Steven K. Green’s essay on the religious and secular roots of church–state separation, I found myself thinking about James M. Dunn. Dunn, the longtime Baptist advocate for religious liberty, had a gift for reducing complicated constitutional arguments to their theological center. Religious liberty, he often insisted, was the right; separation of church and state was the constitutional guardrail protecting it. The metaphor was characteristically Dunn: direct, practical, and slightly impatient with those who wanted the freedom while dismantling the structure that made it possible. That is the irony surrounding the current debate. The Trump administration’s Religious Liberty Commission treats the “wall of separation” as though it were one of the principal threats to religious freedom. Green’s history suggests almost the opposite. The wall was not built simply to protect the state from religion. It was also built to protect conscience from coercion and the Church from political con...