Stewards of Life: Living and Dying in God’s Care

Fr. Peter Fonseca, PhD (c), MA, MDiv

At his trial in A Man for All Seasons, Thomas More reminds his accusers that all must face the same fate, exclaiming “death . . . comes for us all, my lord. Yes, even for Kings he comes.” While death will come for everyone, few take the opportunity to plan for it. A 2025 Pew Survey of 8,750 adults, conducted in September 2025, found that only 32% of Americans have created a will specifying how their assets should be distributed after death, and only 31% have prepared advanced health care directive for the event that they can no longer make medical decisions. This evidence validates Pascal’s claim that “being unable to cure death, wretchedness, and ignorance, men have decided, in order to be happy, not to think about such things.”

While “the idea of death, the fear of it, haunts the human animal like nothing else,” Catholics must live in such a way that death does not find them unprepared, but rather awake to their true end. For the Catholic, death cannot be understood apart from faith. It is not merely the end of biological life, but a decisive moment in which the soul faces the truth of its life and stands before the Creator. Preparing for death as a Christian is therefore not simply a secular matter of legal or medical arrangements; it is fundamentally a spiritual task. In this final act of discipleship, one entrusts themselves wholly to God, disposes oneself through prayer and the sacraments, and is conformed to Christ in His passage through death to life.

Since death is a transition from the end of earthly life to the beginning of the life to come, properly confronting it requires one to step back and face two of life’s ultimate questions: Who am I and where am I going. These existential questions, however, cannot be adequately answered by reason alone; they must be viewed through the lens of faith, which reveals the ultimate meaning of human existence in relation to God. In fact, the Second Vatican Council instructs that it is “only in the mystery of the Word incarnate that light is shed on the mystery of humankind.” In the light of faith, questions of purpose, suffering, and death are no longer problems to solve but mysteries to be lived in communion with Christ.

Who am I

The second chapter of Genesis begins to answer this foundational question by presenting a unified understanding of the human person: a person who is neither merely a body composed of particles of matter, nor merely a soul, but a single, integrated reality. The author articulates that man became a living being because “the Lord God formed man out of the dust of the ground and blew into his nostrils the breath of life.” The “dust of the ground” emphasizes humanity’s material origin and creaturely dependence, while the divine “breath of life” signifies that life itself is a gift directly bestowed by God, revealing both man’s earthly origin and his special relationship with the Creator. Together, these elements highlight the unique dignity of the human person. The passage also portrays creation as an intimate act: God does not simply command humanity into existence, but personally forms and enlivens the human person, highlighting both his dependence on God and his singular place among creation.

Genesis’ account of creation aligns with the philosophical account of hylomorphism, in which the human person is understood as a unity of matter (the body) and form (the soul), not as two separate substances but as one being. In this view, the soul is the form of the body, giving life and unity to the whole person. Death, therefore, occurs when the soul separates from the body. Yet, human life, which begins at the moment of conception, does not end with death; rather, death opens into the fulfillment of human destiny, as Catholics look “forward to the resurrection of the dead and life in the age to come.” As the Catechism teaches, “in death, the separation of the soul from the body, the human body decays and the soul goes to meet God.”

Ultimately, whatever one may understand about the biological development of life, Catholics profess “that every spiritual soul is created immediately by God — it is not “produced” by the parents — and also that it is immortal: it does not perish when it separates from the body at death, and it will be reunited with the body at the final Resurrection.” As beings whom God has breathed life into, man is “not some casual and meaningless product of evolution. Each of us is the result of a thought of God. Each of us is willed, each of us is loved, each of us is necessary.”

This profound truth of the human person finds its deepest meaning in the very nature of God Himself. God, who is perfect and lacking in nothing, does not create out of need or deficiency, but freely out of love. Because God is fullness of being and goodness itself, He gains nothing from bringing creatures into existence; creation adds nothing to His perfection. Rather, in an act of pure generosity, God wills to share His goodness with others, calling them into being so that they might participate in His life and love. As Scripture attests, “God is love,” and creation is an expression of that love, freely willed rather than a necessary overflow. Thus, the existence of each human person is not the result of divine need, but of divine gift, revealing that humans are created not to complete God, but to receive His love and to share in it.

Acknowledging the truth of who man is leads to the first important truth in response to the existential question, who am I; namely that each human person is willed by God. As the Lord exclaims through the prophet Jeremiah, “before I formed you in the womb, I knew you,” and the psalmist prays, “You formed my inmost being; you knit me in my mother’s womb. I praise you, because I am wonderfully made.” These inspired words reveal that mankind’s existence is not accidental but intentional, known and loved by God from the very beginning. Yet, this truth does not end with creation. For not only are human beings willed and created by God, but when mankind went astray through sin, God sent His Son into the world, to suffer, die, and rise so that those created in His image and likeness might have the hope of eternal life. In the words of St. Paul, “God, who is rich in mercy, because of the great love he had for us, even when we were dead in our transgressions, brought us to life with Christ.” Even though human freedom allowed mankind to turn away from God, introducing sin and brokenness into the world, God did not abandon him; rather, He entered into human history through Christ, offering redemption and restoration. Through this act of salvation, man, wounded in both body and soul by sin, is healed and elevated, and is called to a renewed life in communion with God and others.

Ultimately then, one’s life is not his own, because he has been “bought with a price.” This truth reveals the profound dignity and responsibility of the human person: acknowledging that he belongs to God not only by creation but also by redemption. Therefore, no one’s life is theirs to use as they please apart from God’s truth and moral law, but rather all humans are entrusted with the gift of life as a gift to be received, lived faithfully, and ultimately returned to Him in love.

Where Am I Going?

Understanding that the human person is created, willed, and redeemed by God, sheds light on the question of what happens after death. In the 25th chapter of the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus teaches that at the end of time, the Son of Man will come in glory and judge all nations, separating the righteous from the wicked as a shepherd separates sheep from goats.” This judgement of the nations reveals that God does not create human beings arbitrarily or without meaning, but calls each person into communion with Himself. At the same time, this teaching makes clear that one’s eternal destiny depends on how one responds to God’s grace in this life.

This ultimate purpose of life, union with God in heaven, is not imposed from without but is inscribed in human nature, orienting mankind toward truth, goodness, and ultimately, communion with God. Even amid the realities of sin and suffering, God continues to guide each person toward this fulfillment, inviting him to freely respond to His grace and to discover his vocation within His providential plan. Thus, human life is never accidental or meaningless but always a gift entrusted with a divine purpose that finds its fullest realization in union with God.

While man is ordered toward union with God, he is not self-sufficient, but rather created, sustained, and ultimately destined to return to God. This orientation, however, is not passive, but calls for a free response. Jesus makes clear that love for Him is expressed concretely in obedience to His teaching, expressing “if you love me, you will keep my commandments.” In this way, the Christian life becomes a lived response of love, shown through fidelity to His will and care for others. As Jesus Christ reveals in the Gospels, especially in His teaching on the final judgment, each person will be judged according to his works, which find their value in charity, how he has loved God and neighbor in action and truth. Thus, at the end of life, each will stand before Him and be judged according to the extent to which he has allowed divine grace to shape his life and reflect that love to others.

Stewards of Life

Acknowledging that each person is created, willed, and redeemed by God requires one to acknowledge that no one possesses his life in an absolute manner, but rather receives it as a gift entrusted to his stewardship. Since each person has been willed into being and ransomed at the price of Christ’s blood, all are called to glorify God in all that they do. Thus, authentic Catholic stewardship means acknowledging that one’s time, talents, body, and even one’s very life are received from God and meant to be returned to Him in love. Because each person will be called to give an account of how he has lived the gift of life, the Christian life is not one of absolute ownership but of faithful stewardship, lived in view of the day when each will stand before God and render an account of the gifts he has received.

To understand what those gifts are, one must return to a consideration of who the human person is. As a unity of body and soul, a being who is both physical and spiritual, each person is called to live as a steward of the whole of his existence. This stewardship extends not only to external possessions but also to one’s interior life. Each person is responsible for nurturing his soul through prayer and reception of the sacraments, as he makes responsible use of the material blessings God has placed in his life. In this way, one’s life becomes a unified offering, in which both the spiritual and the material are ordered toward God, and one is prepared to give an account of how he has cared for the gifts entrusted to him.

Since “death puts an end to human life as the time open to either accepting or rejecting the divine grace manifested in Christ,” proper stewardship of one’s life requires that each person be prepared to meet God well before the final moments of life. On the temporal level, this preparation involves responsibly managing the health, finances, and material goods entrusted to the individual, including prudent estate planning and making morally sound decisions about medical care through appropriate end-of-life medical directives. On the spiritual level, it requires readying the soul for the passage from this life to the next through the grace offered in the Church’s sacraments and entrusting oneself to God in hope through prayer, and participation in the Church’s funeral rites, which honor the body and commend the soul to God. By faithfully attending to both the material and spiritual dimensions of life, the Christian can approach death not with fear, but with confident trust and serene readiness.

Taking time to properly plan for death is not morbid, but deeply faithful. It is an act of trust that acknowledges that one’s life is not his own and that everyone will one day have to render an account for their life. By preparing now, Christians ensure that even their dying becomes a final act of stewardship, one that witnesses to their hope in Christ and their desire to return to God, having faithfully cared for all He has entrusted to them. In fact, the Catholic tradition preserves the venerable practice of memento mori, whereby one remembers that death is inevitable so as to live wisely, repent of sin, and remain prepared to meet God. By keeping death before one’s eyes, one is freed from illusions and called to live more intentionally; to repent of sin, to grow in virtue, and to remain close to God through prayer and the sacraments. In this way, the practice of memento mori becomes a grace, helping one to order one’s life rightly so that, when death comes, one may meet it prepared, with faith, hope, and trust in God’s mercy.

Conclusion

The Church, drawing on Scripture and Tradition, teaches that each person is created for the ultimate end of eternal life, whereby every human life is ordered toward communion with God, and death is the threshold through which one passes to that final destiny. This means that how one approaches death is inseparable from how one understands life’s existential questions: Who am I? Where am I going? Yet, many people, even faithful Catholics, remain unprepared for their death, because they have not been formed to understand it in light of their ultimate end and, like the broader culture, often avoid confronting it.

Living one’s life as an act of stewardship is an invitation to recover a distinctly Catholic vision of preparing for death. It is an invitation to move beyond fear, denial, or mere pragmatism, and to see death for what it truly is: not something to be controlled or avoided at all costs, but a moment to be approached with faith, hope, and love. If Christians take this vision seriously, preparation for death does not begin in the final days of life; rather, it begins now, in how one lives, how one stewards the gifts entrusted by God, and how one orders one’s life toward Him.

Death is not simply a biological event in which the functions of the body cease; it is, for every human person, a moment filled with profound meaning. The meaning one assigns to death, whether consciously or not, flows directly from what they believe about God, the human person, and one’s ultimate destiny. In other words, how one lives and prepares for death is inseparable from how they understand faith. A person whose faith is rooted in a trust in God approaches death with a sense of accountability and hope: accountability, because life is understood as a gift for which one is responsible; and hope, because death is not the final word.

This vision gives rise to a distinct form of preparation, both temporal and spiritual. Preparing for death is not something reserved for the final days or hours of life; rather, it is a lifelong task. Every act of repentance, every work of charity, every reception of grace becomes part of that preparation. Death, then, does not interrupt the story of one’s life; it brings earthly life to its completion and opens the way to its fulfillment in God.

By contrast, when faith is absent, or reduced to something vague or purely subjective, preparation for death often becomes narrowly focused on physical concerns. Questions about suffering, autonomy, and dignity dominate the conversation. These are not unimportant questions; however, when they are detached from a larger vision of the human person’s destiny, they can lead to an impoverished understanding of what it means to die well.

Ultimately, the Catholic understanding of faith does not simply offer ideas about death, it forms the faithful for it. It shapes their habits, priorities, and loves. It teaches them what to hold onto and what to surrender. Most importantly, it prepares them not merely to face death, but to enter into it with faith, hope, and trust in God. If this is true, then the most important preparation for death is not something begun at the end of life; rather, it is something that begins today. For what a person believes shapes how he lives and how he lives shapes how he dies.