On August 12, thousands of people will turn their eyes to the sky to witness a solar eclipse. For a few moments, daylight will seem to disappear, and shadow will take the place usually occupied by light.

Science has been studying these phenomena for years, and today we are able to predict them with extraordinary accuracy. We know when they will occur, where they can be best viewed, and what measures should be taken to enjoy them safely. We also know that an eclipse mobilizes much more than our curiosity: travel, accommodations, healthcare services, security measures, fire prevention, and numerous resources dedicated to ensuring that everything runs smoothly.

The eclipse thus becomes a scientific, tourist, economic and social event.

But while we think about how to best observe an eclipse that will last only a few minutes, perhaps we should ask ourselves about other eclipses that are much longer and, above all, much more difficult to recognize.

Because there are also eclipses that don’t obscure the sun. They are eclipses that obscure reason, conscience, responsibility, and ultimately, meaning.

The eclipse of common sense

Our society seems to be living in a paradoxical era. Never before have we had so much information, so much knowledge, so many technological tools to interpret reality, and so many possibilities for communication. And yet, it is becoming increasingly common to hear a seemingly simple expression: “This is common sense.”

Perhaps because common sense is becoming scarce.

We could speak of the eclipse of political responsibility, the eclipse of parental authority, the eclipse of teaching authority, the eclipse of social responsibility, or the eclipse of environmental awareness. These are different eclipses, but perhaps they all share a common origin: the weakening of our capacity to distinguish the reasonable from the absurd, the beneficial from the harmful, the true from the false, and ultimately, good from evil.

Chesterton  expressed this paradox with one of those phrases that seem simple until you discover their depth: “The day will come when it will be necessary to prove that the grass is green.” Perhaps that day is not so far off.

The Royal Spanish Academy defines common sense as the “ability to understand or judge reasonably.” It is a seemingly modest definition, but it encapsulates an essential point:  judging reality reasonably .

Common sense isn’t simply about knowing a lot of things. Nor is it about repeating what most people think. It’s the ability to connect what we know with concrete reality, to assess the consequences of our decisions, and to act according to practical reason that remains grounded in experience.

That’s why common sense is practical, because it helps us deal with everyday problems; intuitive, because it allows us to recognize certain situations without the need for complicated reasoning; shared, because it feeds on the experience accumulated by society; and logical, because it demands a certain coherence between what we think, what we do, and the consequences of our actions.

Ultimately, common sense keeps us connected to reality.

And perhaps that is precisely one of the great problems of our time:  we have accumulated tools to understand reality, but we do not always retain the ability to recognize it.

When the obvious ceases to be obvious

Common sense tells us that before crossing a street we should look; that we should not recklessly enter a dangerous place; that we must protect our privacy; that stealing is wrong; that corruption harms the common good; that children need present and responsible parents; that education requires effort and rigor; that not every difficulty inherent in human maturation necessarily constitutes an illness; that rulers must be held accountable; that public services need adequate resources; that our forests and our rivers must be protected; that a society must take special care of those who are most vulnerable.

These are simple statements, or perhaps too simple. And yet, in some cases, it seems we’ve reached the point of needing lengthy discussions to defend what was considered self-evident for generations.

The experience of recent years should have reminded us of the importance of prudence, foresight, and responsibility. The COVID-19 pandemic, the eruption of the La Palma volcano, the DANA storm in Valencia, forest fires, train accidents, and difficulties related to border security and protection show us that reality does not always conform to our wishes.

Reality exists. And when we ignore it, sooner or later it ends up prevailing.

The digital eclipse

To this loss of contact with reality is added a relatively new phenomenon: the progressive colonization of our lives by the digital world.

Technology is not the problem. On the contrary, it is an expression of human intelligence that should be at the service of people, science, education, and progress. The problem arises when the tool begins to replace the person.

Social media can transform emotion into a criterion of truth and impact into a criterion of value. A “like” can become more important than a real conversation. An image can seem more genuine than actual experience. An insult typed on a screen can seem less serious than the same insult uttered face to face.

And so, little by little, we may end up living in a reality where the virtual acquires more weight than the real.

The eclipse also appears when a person risks their life to get a photograph, when someone records an accident before helping the victim, when social networks are used to humiliate someone we don’t even know, or when we delegate our ability to judge to a search engine, an algorithm, or an artificial intelligence tool.

GPS is extraordinarily useful, but it cannot replace our eyes.

An app can provide us with information, but it cannot replace our conscience.

Artificial intelligence can help us think, but it cannot assume our moral responsibility.

Technology can expand our capabilities.  What it cannot do is replace our freedom.

The eclipse of responsibility

Another of the great eclipses of our time is individualism. An individualistic society risks turning others into obstacles. Just look at everyday behaviors: taking a seat reserved for an elderly or pregnant person; ignoring someone who needs help; using a common space as if it were exclusively ours; staring at a screen while someone is speaking to us.

They are small gestures. But small gestures also build a society.

The same logic appears on social media when polarization turns those who think differently into enemies. We no longer need to know a person to judge them. It’s enough to place them in a category, label them, and silence their voice.

Conversation disappears. And when conversation disappears, so does an essential part of democratic life: the ability to listen to others.

Common sense reminds us of something basic: we can disagree with a person without ceasing to recognize their dignity.

The eclipse of politics

Perhaps one of the most visible eclipses of our time is the one affecting politics.

Politics should be one of the noblest expressions of human responsibility: the pursuit of the common good, the protection of the most vulnerable, the responsible management of resources, and the creation of the necessary conditions for people to develop a dignified life.

However, when politics is subjected to electoral opportunism, partisan interests, or ideology understood as an absolute criterion, it can lose sight of what should justify it: the person.

Citizens sometimes perceive a growing disconnect between institutions and the concrete problems of daily life. While certain public projects may consume enormous amounts of resources, there are healthcare services, education, transportation infrastructure, and law enforcement agencies that require more funding.

Something similar happens when the bureaucracy stops serving the citizen and ends up turning the citizen into a servant of the bureaucracy.

Digitalization can make our lives incredibly easier. But if an elderly person, someone with a disability, or a citizen without technological skills can’t access a service because the entire system assumes they know how to use a screen, then the tool has ceased to serve the individual. And that’s not common sense either.

Las leyes, por su parte, deberían partir de la realidad y tratar de mejorarla. Para ello necesitan conocimiento, experiencia, diálogo y prudencia. Las normas que afectan al medio ambiente, al campo, a la educación, a la discapacidad, a la familia, a la protección de la vida o a la seguridad de las fronteras no pueden elaborarse ignorando la experiencia de quienes conocen directamente esas realidades.

Gobernar no consiste en imponer una idea sobre la sociedad. Gobernar consiste en servir a la sociedad.

El eclipse de la razón

Pero quizás nos estemos quedando todavía en la superficie. Porque el eclipse del sentido común no puede explicarse únicamente por la política, la tecnología, la educación o las redes sociales.

Hay algo más profundo. El sentido común presupone que existe una realidad que podemos conocer. Presupone que la razón humana es capaz de acercarse a la verdad y que nuestra conciencia puede reconocer el bien.

Y aquí aparece la cuestión decisiva.

¿Qué ocurre cuando dejamos de creer que existe una verdad?

¿Qué sucede cuando cada persona considera que puede construir su propia realidad?

¿Qué queda de la conciencia cuando ya no existe un bien objetivo al que orientar nuestras decisiones?

El resultado puede ser una sociedad extraordinariamente informada y, al mismo tiempo, profundamente desorientada.

Podemos saber cómo llegar a cualquier lugar y no saber hacia dónde vamos.

Podemos comunicarnos instantáneamente con miles de personas y sentirnos profundamente solos.

Podemos disponer de una cantidad inmensa de información y no saber qué merece la pena conocer.

Podemos prolongar la vida y no saber para qué vivir.

Podemos conquistar una libertad casi ilimitada y no saber para qué queremos ser libres.

Ese es, quizás, el eclipse más profundo.

El eclipse de Dios

Desde la perspectiva del humanismo cristiano, detrás del eclipse del sentido común puede existir un eclipse todavía mayor: el eclipse de Dios.

Cuando Dios desaparece del horizonte del hombre, no desaparece únicamente una creencia religiosa. Se oscurece también una determinada concepción de la persona.

Si el hombre ya no es criatura, sino únicamente individuo; si deja de ser alguien para convertirse en algo; si su dignidad depende de sus capacidades, de su utilidad, de su autonomía o del reconocimiento de los demás, entonces resulta mucho más difícil responder a las preguntas fundamentales.

¿Quién soy?

¿Por qué mi vida tiene valor?

¿Qué debo a los demás?

¿Qué significa realmente ser libre?

¿Qué es el bien?

¿Existe una verdad que no dependa de mis preferencias?

El cristianismo ofrece una respuesta radical a estas preguntas: el ser humano posee una dignidad que no le concede el Estado, ni la sociedad, ni la mayoría, ni siquiera él mismo. Su dignidad procede de haber sido creado a imagen de Dios y amado por Él.

Therefore, Christian humanism does not consist of placing God in front of man, but in discovering that  when God illuminates man, man can better understand who he is .

Faith does not extinguish reason. It illuminates it.

And reason, when it remains open to the truth, can lead us to the ultimate questions that technology, politics, or economics can never answer on their own.

After the eclipse

Next August 12th we will look to the sky.

For a few minutes, the light will be partially obscured. But we know the sun will still be there. The eclipse doesn’t destroy the light; it simply gets between it and our eyes.

Perhaps this image can help us understand our own time.

Perhaps the truth has not disappeared.

Perhaps good has not ceased to exist.

Perhaps God has not gone away.

Perhaps it is we who have allowed too many shadows to come between reality and our gaze.

Therefore, contemplating an eclipse can also become an invitation.

An invitation to recover common sense.

Let’s regain our prudence.

To reclaim responsibility.

To recover the value of the word, of dialogue and of truth.

To recover an education that teaches not only to know, but also to discern.

To recover a politics understood as a service.

To recover a technology that is subject to the person and not a person subject to technology.

And, above all, to regain the ability to look up.

Because perhaps the greatest danger of our time is not that the light will disappear.

The real danger is getting used to living in darkness.

And perhaps that’s why, behind all the small eclipses of our time, there is a question that continues to await an answer:

What light are we seeking to rediscover meaning?