The Happiest Religion on Earth
A viral meme made me laugh a couple of days ago. Some rather disgruntled guy was saying, “Every time something happens to Jesus, I gain ten pounds.” I think nothing reflects Christianity better. We have the best parties in the history of religions. Jesus’ first great miracle was turning water into wine. And in our most important sacrament—if they can even be ranked by importance—water is used to wash our hands and to add a drop to a generous stream of wine. I’m not saying it’s a religion of fat, drunk people—although in a way we are—but rather that it’s an immense joy. We’re happy when we’re happy, of course, but also when we’re sad, because we can always say something the agnostic can’t: My kingdom is not of this world.
Christianity always has a happy ending. After the darkness of Christ’s Passion comes the time of light. It must have been fun to watch the disciples’ reactions as they learned of the Resurrection. We know some people’s disbelief from the Scriptures; from others, we can only assume it. Surely more than one, as a first step, raised a glass to toast the risen Christ. The most knowing of them all, no doubt, said: “I knew this was going to happen.” And the most devout, who had already resigned himself to the idea of imminent martyrdom, was perhaps dismayed at the thought of a happy ending; poor soul—he surely soon experienced martyrdom, but what does it matter? Saint Peter welcomes those who die for Christ with fireworks and a toast.
Give me three weeks and I’ll go back to hating the world, but today let me be happy.
Many Christians complain that we live in difficult times, simply because there are prostitutes on OnlyFans and young people have become too addicted to TikTok to think for themselves. There is a legion of desperate men asking AI whether God exists. Don’t rule out the possibility that, given our laziness and cowardice in doing apostolic work, God may use AI to bring souls to Heaven. Everything in the world is part of the divine plan of salvation.
Many Catholic friends insist that Christianity is persecuted in the West, and that our fellow Christians no longer possess the spiritual vigor that once led them to defend the faith even through holy war. This is true. But it’s not the whole truth. They also complain that young people don’t go to Mass because they don’t leave the house, because they’re glued to their cell phones all day long; well, perhaps they’re reading The American Spectator, and while I don’t think they’ll find the best path to God by reading me, I know that many of the friends who write here are veritable Christian highways to the great questions of existence and the meaning of life.
I’ll agree with them that these aren’t easy times. But it doesn’t seem that the times of the early Christians were much better. There was no TikTok, but there were lions with incredibly sharp teeth eager to block you on the social network of life. Of course, we live in dark times. All times are dark. But I am amazed at how easily we forget (I forget it too) the hopeful words of John Paul II: “Love always triumphs. Love always triumphs, as Christ triumphed! Love always triumphs, even though at times, faced with specific events and situations, it may seem powerless. Christ seemed powerless on the Cross. God is always more powerful. Love always triumphs.”
- K. Chesterton said the same thing in his own way: “Christendom has had a series of revolutions, and in each one of them Christianity has died. Christianity has died many times and risen again; for it had a God who knew the way out of the grave.” God found the way out of His tomb, and I am incapable of finding the exit every time I enter a damned shopping mall. I suppose that is why, among other reasons, God is God and I am a poor man. I don’t feel capable of converting the world, but neither do I intend to change things with a column. I am content with the small impacts my work can have. Years ago, I was deeply moved by a letter from a reader of one of my books. His father had been in the hospital for some time with a very poor prognosis, and while reading my book on the “smart home,” he nearly fell out of his hospital bed laughing (the patient!). I suppose everyone contributes a little bit wherever they are. I do it through writing, with all my sins; you in the factory, the law office, or with your police badge patrolling the streets. That little bit of effort is worth little, but the beauty of Christianity is that the important part, the infinite part, comes from God.
Some readers will criticize my excessive optimism today. I could tell them that the holy light of the newly inaugurated Easter season has filled my heart with happiness—and that would only be half true. To know the other half, I must confess that, after a long period of incessant activity, I took a week’s vacation at the beach, without writing a single line, and I’ve just returned. I’ve been floating in the sea (a lot) and drinking beer (a little, because of Lent) for days on end. I feel so invigorated I could travel to Iran and personally bite the ayatollahs out of the country (Trump, take note).
Give me three weeks and I’ll go back to hating the world, but today let me be happy. Happy Easter to all my friends and readers.
READ MORE from Itxu Diaz:
The Mysterious Solitude of Christ in His Passion and Death on the Cross