Christian-Jewish relations have been impacted by the Church’s responses to major technological shifts.
By Daniel Friedmann, JNS
In his inaugural address, Pope Leo XIV expressed concerns about the rise of artificial intelligence, warning that it could undermine human dignity and replace human conscience with algorithms. The pope’s discomfort with AI resonates with a long history of the Catholic Church confronting transformative technologies that challenge its authority and influence. While non-Catholics have no place critiquing Vatican policy, Christian-Jewish relations have been impacted by its responses to major shifts. It thus behooves us to review those pivotal moments and apply their lessons today.
The printing press, invented by Johannes Gutenberg in the 15th century, marked a turning point in human history. It democratized knowledge, allowing the mass production of books and, for the first time, making texts like the Bible widely accessible. Yet, for the Catholic Church, the press was seen as a threat. The Church feared the loss of its monopoly on interpreting Scripture, as individuals and groups began to interpret the Bible independently, leading to the Protestant Reformation.
The tremors of such reinterpretation extended far beyond the Christian community. For more than a millennium, the Catholic Church had promoted a theology that fueled antisemitism called “replacement theology” or “supersessionism.” According to this doctrine, God’s covenant with the Jews was superseded by the Christian covenant; biblical references to Jews, Israel, Hebrews and Zion were to be interpreted as symbolic of Christians. These teachings underpinned centuries of Christian hostility toward Jews.
While the Vatican struggled to control the flow of information, leaders of the Protestant Reformation utilized all the printing press had to offer to spread their ideas. Despite the continued commitment of Reformation leaders Martin Luther and John Calvin to their antisemitic proclivities, their newfound insistence on a literal reading of Scripture laid the foundation for the modern Christian Zionist movement. Theodore Beza was the first Protestant leader to argue that God’s promises to the Jewish people, including their eventual return to their homeland, remained valid.
This new interpretation became a key driving force in supporting the Christian movement to restore the Jews to the Land of Israel. This revised doctrine culminated in the Balfour Declaration of 1917, and later, the U.N. Partition Plan of 1947, which led to the establishment of the modern-day State of Israel. Thus, the Catholic Church’s resistance to the information age ushered in by the printing press allowed others to fulfil God’s plan for the Jewish people.
By contrast, when the next information revolution came in the 1990s with the advent of the internet, the Vatican took a far more proactive stance. Pope John Paul II recognized the Internet’s potential for evangelization, calling it a tool for global dialogue and spiritual outreach. At the same time, the Internet made the promises of reconciliation between Catholics and Jews more accessible to a global audience. The Vatican’s commitment to interfaith dialogue, formalized in the “Nostra Aetate” declaration in 1965, was tested by the flood of information now available to Catholics and Jews alike.
With the rise of global accessibility via media, Catholic communities worldwide could access more information about Jewish history, the Holocaust and the ongoing Israeli-Palestinian conflict. This influx of information pressured the Vatican to reconsider its position on Israel. Pope John Paul II, recognizing the need for reconciliation, made a bold decision in 1993 to establish full diplomatic relations with Israel. This was a historic moment, signaling the Vatican’s acknowledgment of the Jewish people’s right to their homeland and the fulfillment of the promises made in “Nostra Aetate.”
Now, with the rise of artificial intelligence, Pope Leo XIV faces a new technological challenge. While AI promises to revolutionize industries, health care and daily life, the pope’s caution reflects a concern for how it could potentially dehumanize society, replacing the moral compass of individuals with cold, unfeeling algorithms. Yet history teaches that resisting the information age has led to missed opportunities. Just as the Catholic Church’s resistance to the printing press allowed Protestantism to take the lead in supporting the Jewish people’s return to Israel, a reluctance to engage with AI could undermine the Church’s moral authority in the modern world. Embracing new technology, however, could position the Vatican as a leader in guiding society through the moral implications of AI, just as it did when it embraced the Internet.
Pope Leo XIV has expressed his desire to end all wars, a noble and urgent mission. But achieving peace requires wisdom, foresight and the tools of the age. Rather than rejecting AI, he should lead the effort to ensure it is used responsibly to prevent atrocities, to monitor threats and to uphold the dignity of every person.