I’m so old that as I was growing up I had to Google the answers to my questions. How did I even survive before AI? Now, we simply ask one of the many forms of artificial intelligence, then  receive an answer tailored to our own most whimsical whim:

Q: Can “you” write a haiku about Ambrose and Jerome?

A: Here’s a haiku:

Ambrose lights the dawn.

Jerome tends the ancient words.

Wisdom walks with both.

Brave new world! What should we do with all this artificially intelligent power at our fingertips? My first suggestion is to chuck our TVs, laptops, and phones in a bonfire, then sit around it looking each other in the eye and telling stories about what matters. If you aren’t willing to follow me to the bonfire of the vanities, at least follow me to the Church Fathers for this month.

Our data-driven digital age bears little exterior resemblance to the western Roman Empire in the 4th and 5th centuries, but St. Jerome and St. Ambrose still speak to us today. No matter how much blue light bathes the information, our minds will never be satisfied with the accumulation of facts, because our minds are made for wisdom—and Jerome and Ambrose teach us where to find it. These scholar-saints challenge us to pursue true wisdom through a disciplined attention to Christ speaking in Scripture.

Jerome was a grouchy genius born in AD 340, somewhere in modern day Croatia or Slovenia. He loved Latin literature and mastered it as a young adult. When he decided to become a monk, he took his secular Latin books with him. He would fast and pray, then binge Cicero and Plautus. (We’ve all been there!) Well, Jerome fell ill and had a dream: Taken up before the judgment seat in heaven, the Judge asked him who he was. “I am a Christian,” Jerome replied. “You lie,” the Judge responded, “You are a Ciceronian, not a Christian. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be” (Mt 6:21). Jerome immediately repented: “If you let me live, I will give up Netflix, Instagram, everything, and consecrate my entire mind to You!” That’s a dynamic translation, but you get the point.

Jerome dedicated the rest of his life to Scripture. He mastered Greek and Hebrew, and Pope St. Damasus I asked him to translate the Bible into Latin. Jerome lived out his days as a monk in Bethlehem, writing scriptural commentaries and letters next door to the cave where Jesus was born. “Ignorance of Scripture is ignorance of Christ,” Jerome wrote in his commentary on Isaiah. The same Word who hid Himself in a manger in Bethlehem is also hiding in the words of Scripture.

Today, Jerome summons us to silence our screens and surrender to Wisdom Himself calling out in these sacred words.

But how do we find this Wisdom in Scripture? Here, Ambrose helps us. He was also born in 340, in modern day Germany. He grew up in a Christian family, but Christianity was on the back-burner of priorities, so he remained a catechumen instead of being baptized while he pursued his political dreams. He studied rhetoric and was made imperial governor in Milan. Things were going well until the bishop of Milan died. There was turmoil in the city over who should succeed the bishop, until a little child cried out, “Ambrose for bishop!” The crowd unanimously agreed, and Ambrose was baptized, confirmed, and then ordained a deacon, priest, and bishop all within a week.

His life is amazing. Ambrose stood up to emperors and invited them to humble repentance—while preaching sermons that we still read and composing hymns that we still sing. Where did he find all the wisdom and strength? Once he became bishop, Ambrose immersed himself in Scripture, and he let the Church Fathers teach him how to read God’s Word. The Fathers taught Ambrose that Scripture was a layered text that found its meaning in Christ. The first layer is the literal meaning of the text, the meaning intended by the author according to the text’s literary genre. Then, there is the moral meaning “layer,” which shows us how to live. The final layer is the mystical meaning, which reveals our life with Christ in God.

Ambrose called the moral and mystical senses the two eyes through which the Church sees Christ in Scripture. When we read Exodus, for example, we not only find the truth about God’s saving power in history (literal sense), but if we have eyes to see, we also find our story. The Exodus becomes an invitation to leave behind everything that spiritually enslaves us (moral sense) by receiving and living our baptism into Christ (mystical sense). Some smartphones and televisions might end up with Pharoah’s horses and chariots.

There has always been a battle for our attention, and the rapid developments of digital technology don’t make the battle any easier. Many of us step out into the digital arena defenseless, as profit-seeking powers and far more fracturing forces seek to use us for their gain. We’re more entertained than ever, but we’re also more bored, anxious, and divided. Jerome and Ambrose knew the solution. Before you let your screens speak to you, why don’t you let God?

FURTHER READING

St. Ambrose, Theological and Dogmatic Works, The Fathers of the Church, vol. 44 (Catholic University of America Press, 2002)

St. Jerome, Dogmatic and Polemical Works, The Fathers of the Church, vol. 53 (Catholic University of America Press, 2014)

Boniface Ramsey, Ambrose (Routledge, 1997)

J.N.D. Kelly, Jerome: His Life, Writings, and Controversies (Duckworth, 1975)

Catena Aurea (Baronius Press [leatherbound] or Aeterna Press [paperback]) [Commentary on the Four Gospels by the Church Fathers, compiled by St. Thomas Aquinas. There is also a free version online!]