Reflecting on the year with my students, I was delighted to observe that what they value most about their first year of high school is relationships, mutual assistance, and time spent together. Of course, the knowledge gained in school will be useful to them in life to some extent, but it is the shared process of acquiring that knowledge among peers—and the forging of new friendships—that will stay with them forever. I deeply hope that, as they go out into the world, they will have the courage and determination to work with others to build a better future for us all. Pope Leo XIV writes about precisely this kind of action in his new encyclical, *Magnifica Humanitas*. In it, he recounts two stories: the construction of the Tower of Babel and the rebuilding of Jerusalem’s walls by Nehemiah. These vividly illustrate two different ways of building the world.
The Tower of Babel is born of pride and a lust for power. “It is a work conceived without reference to God, underpinned by a uniformity that eliminates diversity and—instead of communion—chooses standardization” (MH 7). There are many such towers around us. We might first think of giant corporations willing to stoop to any wickedness for the sake of profit, showing no regard for the human person. Yet, there are also our own local, less spectacular towers. I am reminded of all those moments when I thought to myself, “I can do this better,” and—in the name of the common good—refused to let go of my own idea; those moments when, instead of explaining something to someone, I did it for them just to get it done faster; …those moments when I lacked the patience to accept imperfection or absence, and tried at all costs to salvage something that no one else cared about anymore. Towers of Babel arise where the project becomes more important than relationships, and the blind pursuit of goals matters more than the shared journey.
The opposite of this kind of building is Nehemiah’s approach. “He does not impose solutions from above. He gathers families, entrusts each with a section of the wall to rebuild, listens to their fears, coordinates efforts, and confronts opposition. The city is reborn not through the initiative of a single individual, but through the shared responsibility of the entire people” (MH 8). The agency of individuals—whose contributions are valued—becomes the foundation for collaborative creation and can extend far beyond the specific project at hand. “It is a work that places God at the center and rebuilds bonds even before it rebuilds the stones” (MH 8). Structures built in this way also have a much greater chance of enduring, for one respects and values something far more deeply when one has played a personal part in creating it. The new walls of Jerusalem rise where everyone can contribute their own small brick, where everyone feels accepted and loved, and where the house built together becomes a space of mutual care and growth.
Building after the manner of Nehemiah, however, requires sacrifice—and, above all, the acceptance that the result will not be perfect. “To build on the foundation of goodness means accepting the limitations and fragility of humanity, rather than viewing them as errors to be corrected” (MH 12). Sometimes this is the hardest part of teamwork, because diversity inevitably brings perspectives that do not align with our own. Yet, if we begin to see the beauty in them, we discover that creating wholeness requires both light and shadow. “The Church reminds us—in a voice both humble and firm—that true fulfillment is not born of eliminating human fragility, but of harmonious growth: where freedom and responsibility intertwine with mutual care and genuine solidarity, and where progress is measured by the dignity of every human being and the good of nations” (MH 12).
The Pope also draws attention to a crucial aspect of any undertaking that involves building something new. One must survey the terrain, assess the possibilities and risks, and understand the direction in which the world is heading. “We must engage in a shared process of discernment capable of reaching the spiritual and cultural roots of the transformations taking place. For if we focus only on the immediate, we risk letting a succession of urgent crises dictate the direction of our journey” (MH 6). In my own life—largely centered on the Church and education—I constantly encounter a reactive mindset and the scramble to keep pace with the world. While I have no influence over major reforms or structural changes, within my own backyard I can invest more in being attentive to what truly matters and what resonates with the reality in which I live. The Pope concludes the introduction to the encyclical with a telling call: “Let us not be afraid to get our hands dirty on the construction site of our times” (MH 16). To my mind, this is above all an invitation not to shirk the responsibility of building our local communities and seeking ever-new ways to mend the world, piece by piece. We can begin by listening to the fears and doubts of those with whom we do not see eye to eye—a process in which one can undoubtedly get one’s hands dirty.
Silence
The Lamb will shepherd them
The Eucharist in action
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