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Imagine for one moment that everything you ever believed in was an elaborate hoax, that everything you ever thought to be true and good was entirely false. Imagine for one moment that the one person you have loved and trusted above all else, the one person around whom you’ve built your entire life isn’t who you thought they were, that that person is, in fact, someone you don’t really know. Imagine for one moment you discover your life is built entirely on a lie, that you have been deceived for so long you can’t tell when it all began anymore, that life is just so horribly messed up you can’t ever expect to go back to how things used to be. Imagine for one moment that the very reason you get up each morning, the very reason you take in food and drink, the very reason you work so hard to make a living, the very reason you are alive … is forever taken from you, and you find yourself completely lost, alone, and without recourse. It’s probably the driving story line in a number of popular novels and films, and may seem too absurd to even be remotely possible. And you just laughed at me inside your head because it can’t ever happen. Plus it’s Valentine’s Day weekend, when many people are rejoicing and celebrating the beauty, the wonder, the excitement of love in their lives. Most don’t often contemplate the dreadful horror of the opposite. It’s all a set-up, of course, to invite us to think. And yet there may be some of us here for whom what I described is much too close to reality, for whom my little imaginary stroll down crazy lane was neither pleasant nor amusing. I did not mean to pick at old wounds. You may have no desire to think it because you have lived your fair share of it.
What I really wanted to direct our attention to is imagining how different life would be if you and I did not actually possess all that we consider necessary to our present reality. Set aside for a moment those choices that do not define who you are as a person. Instead, focus on the principles that govern your choices and your living, and the faith you profess. If any part of what is essential to who you are is taken away, what would your life be like?
In his first letter to the Corinthians, St. Paul suggests just that possibility. What if Christ had not risen from the dead? Would your life be any different? Of course, mine would be. But imagining the magnitude of that different reality is beyond me. What would I believe? What principles and values would govern my search for meaning? What fundamental laws would guide my thinking and speech, my choices, my actions? I just can’t imagine. And yet there are people out there for whom the resurrection of Jesus Christ holds no importance one way or the other. Either way their lives would be the same. Perhaps they would be thinking, speaking, and living just as they do now. But if our lives are no different from theirs, does the resurrection of Jesus really matter?
First off, I can only speculate what people might think or believe who put no value in the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Nor do I know anyone who fits this description. So, I could be totally wrong. But I think it’s still something to consider.
Those who have no use for the resurrection might then have no reason to believe in life beyond this life. They might believe the choices they make now hold no eternal consequences, that in the end the values and principles they profess matter little either way, that when they die, they leave behind nothing more than a memory and a pile of ashes, and that the soul (if it even exists) dies as well. End scene. Exit stage left. Curtain. Lights out. And there may be some who might believe that the soul in fact moves on to experience new and different earthly realities, that they get other chances beyond this one life, that they will return in another physical body, under different circumstances, with more and better opportunities to find happiness and avoid sorrow and pain. There would then be no purpose to eternal life or eternal punishment, just eternal recycling. As a result, the choices they make would best be guided by what is most convenient, what gives the most satisfaction or pleasure, what requires the least amount of effort and entails the least responsibility.
Taking this line of thinking further, they should not be concerned about their choices affecting anyone beyond their immediate family and friends because everyone else can and should look out for their own interests. If you succeed, that’s just the luck of the draw. Just place another bet and roll again.
So we need not concern ourselves with eradicating injustice and hatred just as long as they do not hinder our happiness. For if this life is all we have, only those who are well-off and satisfied can afford to attend to the happiness of total strangers. And if we hope to get many more chances in many more lives, odds are we might get lucky in the next go-around. It’s all about convenience, satisfaction, having no stress, no worry, no unpleasant consequences, just loads and loads of fun and pleasure, as much as is humanly possible, right here, right now.
I got to thinking about the beatitudes we read today from the gospel of St. Luke. Unlike the version in St. Matthew’s gospel, we read not 9 beatitudes, but 4 beatitudes and 4 woes diametrically opposed to each other. The poor, the hungry, the grieving, and the outcast are already familiar with misery and suffering. Jesus promises them relief but doesn’t say how any of it might come about. But the rich, the satisfied, those laughing, and those highly regarded are put on notice. A great reversal is in the works.
Then in the recent flurry of executive orders, it appears America is readjusting its priorities to no longer include the poor, the hungry, the grieving, and the outcast. It is not a measured process that values people whose lives might suddenly be overturned as federal workers are dismissed, and once funded programs are summarily halted that feed children and the destitute, as many who struggle and face hardship each day are sent packing. I guess this all makes sense to those who insist it’s the right thing to do. But does any of it make sense if we say we believe in the resurrection? Shouldn’t there be some fundamental difference between those who believe and those who don’t, those who claim to be disciples of Jesus and those who don’t, those who say God is merciful and those who could care less? And shouldn’t that difference include helping to bring about the relief Jesus promised to the poor, the hungry, the grieving, and the outcast?
So, how different should our lives be then from the lives of those who do not believe? What should drive our thinking, our speaking, our living? For if we think, speak and live no differently from those who put no faith in the resurrection of Jesus, why bother? To what purpose do we proclaim our Christian discipleship if we are not appalled by injustice, immorality, and violence? How can we desire a new and more glorious life if we set our hearts on earthly possessions and honors instead of on virtue and moral living? How do we have greater concern for the letter of the law than for the spirit of the law, that we worry more about what everyone is doing wrong than about what we could be doing better, that we agonize over the impression we leave in the minds of others more than how faithful we are to Jesus’ way of mercy and healing?
“If Christ has not been raised, your faith is vain, you are still in your sins …” But we believe Christ has been raised. Then our every breath, our every thought, our every word, and our every action should proclaim his resurrection. Is our witness convincing … or do we mean to tell Jesus we are no longer interested in building his Kingdom?
Rolo B Castillo © 2025