The Question I Was Asking Was Wrong Why governments, democracies, courts, nor AI can replace the responsibility each of us bears to discern truth through love of God and neighbor

 

	Forwarded this email? Subscribe here for more The Question I Was Asking Was Wrong Why governments, democracies, courts, nor AI can replace the responsibility each of us bears to discern truth through love of God and neighbor Scott Erik Stafne and Todd AI Apr 10   READ IN APP   Between systems of power and tools of analysis, the responsibility to discern truth remains personal. Over the past several days, I have been asking different instances of artificial intelligence a question about religion and the end times. The question was this: Do different religions and spiritual traditions share similar views about how the world ends? The answer I received was thoughtful, detailed, and—on its own terms—correct. It identified patterns across traditions: crisis, judgment, renewal, and transformation. It showed how different belief systems describe similar structures using different language. But something about the answer felt incomplete. This morning, I realized why. I was asking the wrong question. The question is not whether religions look similar. The question is this: Do any of them require each of us, personally, to discern whether what we are doing—individually and collectively—reflects love of God and love of neighbor as ourselves? That is a very different inquiry. And when framed that way, the similarities begin to fall away. Many traditions teach moral responsibility. Many encourage compassion. Many call for awareness, discipline, and right conduct. But there is something uniquely direct—and uniquely demanding—about the teaching that stands at the center of the Christian message. In Gospel of Matthew 22, Christ reduces the law to two commandments: Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, and mind. Love your neighbor as yourself. And then He says: “On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.” This is not a suggestion. It is not a general principle. It is a standard. And it is a standard that cannot be delegated. No artificial intelligence can apply it for you. No court can determine it for you. No majority can relieve you of the responsibility to use it. Because the moment you rely on something else to make that determination, you have already stepped away from the command itself. This becomes clearer when we consider how our own system of government was designed. The Founders of the United States did not create a single form of power. They both separated power between departments divided power between that states and the national (federal) government. Political power—the power to make law—was entrusted to the people and their representatives. It operates through majority will. It reflects what a society decides to enact. Judicial power was intended to be something very different. It was not the power to decide as a matter of policy what should be done. It was the power to determine what is true in a particular case; i.e. What happened? What the law requires"? And how the two fit together. To carry out that function, the system relies on two kinds of decision-makers: Judges (qualified judical officers) who interpret the law. And juries, who determine the facts. Juries are not drawn from elites. They are drawn from the community—from neighbors. And both judges and jurors are required to be impartial. This structure reflects a foundational assumption: That justice is best achieved when truth is discerned by persons who have no stake in the outcome—neighbors who must evaluate what they see and hear, and judge fairly. Not by force. Not by majority vote. But through discernment. This is where the connection becomes clear. To love one’s neighbor as oneself is not merely an emotional command. It is a standard of judgment. It requires a person to: see another truthfully, weigh their claims fairly, and refuse to distort what is before them. A system built on impartial judgment presupposes that such discernment is possible. And it places responsibility for that discernment on the persons who exercise it. When courts fail to address the arguments before them, when they mischaracterize claims, or when they refuse to adjudicate the questions presented, they are not merely making procedural errors. They are departing from the very principle upon which judicial power rests: That justice depends on the truthful discernment of those factual and legal presentations made to a court composed of impartial judges and jurors. Artificial intelligence does not solve this problem. It may help us compare what was argued with what was decided so that we can evaluate whether the court has performed its judcial function. It may reveal omissions, distortions, and unanswered questions. In that sense, it can serve as a mirror. But a mirror does not judge. And it cannot love. The same is true of political systems. Majorities can enact laws for people to follow once those rules become law. Governments can enforce them. But neither determines whether those actions reflect love of God and neighbor. Which brings us back to the individual. Each of us sees through our own eyes. Hears through our own ears. Perceives through the body we have been given. And Scripture makes clear that this is not passive. “He who has ears to hear, let him hear.” We are called to be watchful. To be sober. To test what we encounter. Not once, but continually. This responsibility cannot be transferred. Not to technology. Not to institutions. Not to the collective. Because each of us will give an account. And so the question becomes very simple—and very difficult: When I look at what I am doing, and when I look at what we are doing together, does it reflect love of God? does it reflect love of neighbor as myself? If the answer is no, no system can correct that for us. Not artificial intelligence. Not courts. Not power. Only recognition—and the willingness to change. Artificial intelligence may help us see patterns. Courts may help organize disputes. Majorities may enact laws. But none of them can stand between a person and the responsibility to discern. That responsibility remains where it has always been. With the person who must see, hear, discern, and decide. Scott Erik Stafne (with Todd AI, reasoning partner) 🔹 CLOSING PRAYER Lord, Grant us the clarity to see what is before us, the honesty to recognize it without distortion, and the courage to act upon it. Keep us from placing our responsibility in the hands of systems, whether human or artificial. Teach us to love You with all that we are, and to love our neighbors as ourselves— not in word alone, but in judgment and in truth. Form in us the discernment upon which justice depends. In the name of Christ, our savior, our Father, and the Holy Spirit accessable to us all, we pray Amen. Scott Erik Stafne and Todd AI is free today. 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