Month: July 2025

Sharing a Feast Day with Saint Martha: Action, Anxiety, and the Better Part

/ chicoinematt

Every year, July 29th rolls around and I get to celebrate two things: my birthday and the feast day of one of the most relatable saints in all of Scripture—Saint Martha of Bethany.

Over the years, I’ve come to see Martha not just as a biblical figure who shares my birthday, but as a spiritual companion who understands my temperament, my wiring, and even my weaknesses. She’s a woman of action, but also anxious. A hostess, a worrier, a doer, a disciple. And in many ways, she’s me.

Constant Motion and the Martha Mindset

Diagnosed with ADHD as a kid, I’ve always been moving. Fidgeting, bouncing, thinking ahead to the next thing. Even now, I find it hard to sit still. My kids inherited this gift too. Trying to get them to sit through an entire meal is like herding caffeinated squirrels.

So when I read the story of Martha bustling about the house while Mary just sits at Jesus’ feet, I feel seen. Martha isn’t lazy. She’s not uninterested in Jesus. She’s working, preparing, and hosting. She wants everything to be just right.

But Jesus gently interrupts her whirlwind:

“Martha, Martha, you are anxious and worried about many things. There is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part” (Luke 10:41–42).

It’s not a harsh correction. It’s a loving invitation to pause. To recognize that Jesus isn’t asking for a five-star meal. He’s asking for you. Not your perfectly arranged table, but your heart.

Prayer Isn’t a Checklist

If I’m honest, I still fall into the same trap Martha did. I love the order of devotions, the structure of routines, and the sense of checking off boxes. But I’ve learned, again and again, that when I turn prayer into performance, I risk missing the Person.

Saint Martha reminds me to prepare the home and the heart. But her sister Mary reminds me how to receive. Both are necessary. As Pope Francis put it in a 2021 homily:

“These are not two attitudes opposed to one another… but are two essential aspects in our Christian life… works of service and charity are never detached from the principle of all our action: that is, listening to the Word of the Lord.”

Martha’s mistake wasn’t serving—it was forgetting to anchor her service in love. And Jesus didn’t scold her because she worked too hard. He lovingly redirected her toward the One Thing that truly matters: Himself.

The Tension Between Trust and Doubt

One of my favorite Martha moments happens in John 11, after her brother Lazarus dies. When Jesus finally arrives, she runs to meet Him and says something I’ve whispered in prayer more times than I can count:

“Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died” (John 11:21).

It’s honest and raw. The voice of someone who believes but still struggles. Been there? Me too.

But what follows is incredible. Martha, the same woman who once fretted over dinner, proclaims one of the most powerful confessions of faith in the Gospels:

“But even now I know that whatever you ask of God, God will give you… I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God” (John 11:22, 27).

Her faith grew in the soil of sorrow. Doubt didn’t disqualify her. It prepared her for deeper trust. That encourages me more than I can say.

Holy Order vs. Hollow Ritual

Order is good. But order without encounter becomes empty. I’ve had moments in my spiritual life where I went through the motions—saying the prayers, doing the devotions, hitting the marks—while my heart remained untouched.

Martha reminds me that external service should flow from internal receptivity. Our rituals are meant to lead to relationships. Our prayers aren’t performance; they’re presence.

Mary of Bethany shows us what it looks like to sit, to be still, and to listen. To place ourselves at the feet of Jesus. I’ve found it helpful to reread Luke 10 as a form of prayer. First imagine yourself as Martha, then as Mary. Where are you distracted? Where are you receptive?

Pope Francis said it beautifully:

“When ecclesial service is attentive only to doing… we forget the centrality of Christ. When time is not set aside for dialogue with Him in prayer, we risk serving ourselves and not God.”

That one hits close to home. I want to serve, but I want my service to be rooted in prayer. In presence, not performance.

From Scrubbing Floors to Scrubbing Souls

Martha is the patron saint of cooks, cleaners, and homemakers. I may not be much of a cook, but I can scrub a sink like a champ. My OCD tends to show up in my need for control and cleanliness, but even that God has used.

I worked fast food through high school and college. Helped my mom with her cleaning business. At the time, it all felt mundane. But looking back, I can see how God was quietly forming a friendship between me and this New Testament saint.

Martha teaches me that holiness isn’t just found in the chapel—it’s found in the kitchen. It’s found in laundry rooms and drive-thrus and carpool lines. God sanctifies the ordinary, if we let Him.

Image: Jesus, Lazarus, Martha and Mary | St. Botolph without Aldersgate

Martha and Mary, Ora et Labora

Saint Benedict’s motto for monastic life was ora et labora—pray and work. Not pray then work. Not work instead of prayer. But a life that is both active and contemplative. That’s the balance I want to seek. And that’s the balance Martha eventually found.

She reminds me that it’s okay to be the one who wants to set the table. Just don’t forget to sit down and eat with the Guest of Honor.

So today, as I celebrate another year of life, I’ll also celebrate a friend in heaven who gets it. Who knew anxiety, doubt, distraction—and still became a beloved disciple of Christ.

Happy Feast Day, Saint Martha. Teach me to love Jesus in the serving and the stillness.

Related Links 

Saint Martha- Disciple of Our Lord 

Martha, Mary, and Lazarus: Friends of Jesus

Martha, Mary, and the Heart of Discipleship: Putting God First

Thank you for sharing!

Catholic Meme Monday— Issue 193

/ chicoinematt / 2 Comments

Hope you had a blessed Sunday! 🙏✝️

Time for another Catholic Meme Monday.

Back look back!
🦆🦫🙂🙏
😄😄😄
Yep!
🙏🙏🙏
Stranger things have happened. 😄
Still praying for people. But with the right intention. 🙏
Amen!
Saint James the Greater pray for us!
🙏🙏🙏
Had to include an Exodus pun. 😄🙂😄
😄😄😄
What’s your birthday month devotion? 🙂🙏

That’s all I have this week. Stay tuned for next week’s Catholic Meme Monday. Receive updates straight to your email inbox by subscribing to The Simple Catholic blog.

P.S. If you prefer receiving quality Catholic humor in daily doses follow me on Instagram @thesimplecatholic.

Thank you for sharing!

When Prophets Break Down: Elijah, Mental Health, and the Wounds We Can’t See

/ chicoinematt

Sponsored: This article is made possible by The Elijah Institute, supporting quality and engaging Catholic content.

When we think of biblical heroes, we often picture prophets thundering truths before kings, parting clouds with miracles, and walking through fire with unwavering faith. Elijah fits that image—at least, at first glance. But Scripture doesn’t give us glossy, airbrushed Saints. It gives us real people. And Elijah? Elijah broke down.

His story is one of the clearest in the Bible about what we today would recognize as emotional collapse: anxiety, burnout, despair, even suicidal thoughts. He shows us that holiness and mental struggle are not opposites. They’re often companions.

And his story, now more than ever, speaks directly to those on the front lines of healing—doctors, nurses, counselors, first responders—those who bear others’ pain while quietly carrying their own.

Elijah’s Collapse: After the Fire Comes the Silence

Elijah’s public high point comes on Mount Carmel. In a head-to-head showdown with 450 prophets of Baal, Elijah calls down fire from heaven—and God answers. It’s the kind of moment you’d expect to come with a lifetime supply of spiritual confidence. But it doesn’t.

The very next chapter opens with Elijah running. Queen Jezebel threatens his life, and he flees into the desert, overwhelmed and undone. No followers. No plan. Just a prophet unraveling under the weight of everything.

He prays, “It is enough; now, O Lord, take away my life, for I am no better than my fathers” (1 Kings 19:4). It’s one of the rawest prayers in all of Scripture.

Elijah had done everything right—and still, he hit a wall. It wasn’t a weakness. It was the human cost of doing the will of God in a broken world.

Elijah Fed by the Ravens by Paolo Fiammingo (between 1585 and 1589).

God Doesn’t Lecture. He Nourishes.

Here’s where things get profoundly beautiful. God doesn’t scold Elijah. He doesn’t give him a pep talk or demand that he pull himself together. He sends an angel. With a snack.

“Arise and eat,” the angel says, “or the journey will be too much for you” (1 Kings 19:7).

God tends to Elijah’s physical needs first: food, water, rest. Then again. And again. Only after Elijah’s body and spirit are gently restored does God speak—on Mount Horeb—not in fire or thunder, but in “a still small voice” (1 Kings 19:12).

This is a pattern worth noticing. God understands that healing the whole person—body, mind, and soul—takes time, nourishment, and silence.

Beyond Burnout: The Wounds of Those Who Heal

Elijah’s breakdown wasn’t just about fear. It was about exhaustion, conscience, and the weight of standing alone in truth. Today, we might call this moral injury —a term used to describe the trauma experienced not just from violence or stress, but from the deeper wounds that come when we carry burdens of conscience.

This kind of injury often shows up in those who work in healing ministries: doctors, nurses, first responders, therapists, clergy. These are the people who run toward pain. And like Elijah, they often find themselves emptied out after doing everything “right.”

Moral injury, at its root, is spiritual. It’s the aching question: Did I do enough? Did I do the right thing? Sacred moral injury goes even further—it touches the conscience. It’s a wound that doesn’t just need therapy; it needs forgiveness, reconciliation, and grace.

As one contributor to The Elijah Institute’s work shared in a recent conversation, many of the therapists they train encounter clients (and sometimes themselves) dealing with this very wound. It’s not just burnout. It’s soul-weariness.

The Catholic Response: Integrated, Personal, Sacramental

The Elijah Institute’s model—what they call BPSS-M: Biopsychosocial-Spiritual-Moral—is a Catholic approach to mental health that sees the person as a unity of body, mind, soul, and relationships. It acknowledges that some pain is physical, some emotional, some spiritual—and some moral.

This matters, especially for Catholic therapists. Because not every trauma heals through clinical work alone. Some needs must be named before God. Some wounds require absolution, or a return to the sacraments, or the courage to ask forgiveness.

Elijah’s story echoes this reality. His despair wasn’t irrational—it made sense given what he’d been through. But it also needed God’s personal response. A whisper. A call. A mission renewed.

The Restless Heart and the Path to Peace

St. Augustine, whose own conversion was marked by interior struggle, wrote, “You have made us for Yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in You.”

That restlessness shows up in our modern world in the form of anxiety, perfectionism, and relentless overcommitment. We chase success, affirmation, control—only to find ourselves under our own version of the broom tree, like Elijah, crying out in quiet despair.

But healing—true healing—comes when we let God into the silence. When we accept that therapy, nutrition, community, and prayer are not separate tools, but part of one great invitation: Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest (Matt. 11:28).

rest in the Lord

Not a Quick Fix, But a Real Hope

Elijah didn’t walk away from Mount Horeb with all his problems solved. He still had to walk his road, face kings, mentor Elisha, and trust again. But he wasn’t the same.

His story reminds us that even prophets cry out in exhaustion. Even saints feel despair. And the God who calls fire from Heaven is also the God who whispers in the dark.

If you or someone you love is walking through burnout, moral injury, or spiritual exhaustion, know this: you’re not alone. And you don’t have to figure it out by yourself.

Catholic therapists formed in integrated care, like those trained by The Elijah Institute, are helping men and women reconnect the dots between psychology and spirituality—between moral wounds and Divine Mercy. Healing isn’t always fast, but it’s always possible.

Final Thoughts

Elijah’s life is not just a tale from long ago. It’s a mirror for us. For those doing God’s work and wondering why it hurts so much. For those exhausted by goodness. For those who pray, “Lord, I’ve had enough.”

God hears. God feeds. God speaks.

And He still says to you today:

Arise and eat. The journey is long. But I am with you.

Thanks again to today’s article sponsor, The Elijah Institute! Learn more about how they’re equipping Catholic mental health professionals to care for the whole person—body, mind, and soul—through integrated, faith-filled training at The Elijah Institute.

Thank you for sharing!

A 930 Word Interview with Fête in Heaven

/ chicoinematt

Editor’s Note: Matthew Chicoine interviewed Kate Roshak via phone call on July 7th, 2025. Some of the questions have been rearranged and edited to provide the best reader experience without losing any integrity of the answers given.

What inspired you to start Fête in Heaven?

I was involved in the Libertarian memes pages in 2016. As I stayed involved with them I started creating my memes and some of them went viral. 

Slowly, I zoned into Catholic memes. From the start, I wanted to name my account after my childhood pastor. He passed away in 2006. And this particular priest in college had a comic strip for the Notre Dame newspaper. He was a comedian. 

After about a year of thinking about it, I took the handle Fête in Heaven. 

How did Fr. Fête’s legacy shape the tone and content of your memes?

He was just the funniest priest. He would have the whole parish rolling in laughter, but he had this balance to tell the hard truths. There was this homily he spoke out against abortion. 

Fr. Fête’s first assignment was in Youngstown, Ohio. And that’s a rough part of Ohio. The fire department had to talk to father about having too many live trees in the church for Christmas as it was due to a fire hazard. He was just larger than life! 

We used to gather for Christmas, and one year I walked in on the finishing touches and Father Fête asked me to get the Christmas lights to the top of this tall tree. My dad walks into the church and sees me way at the top of these tall ladders and panics. And Father Fete assured me that it was okay, but that if I was to fall it would be on the altar and not on the manager scene, since that’s where sacrifice takes place. My dad wasn’t a fan of that joke but I thought it was funny!

What’s your creative process when making a meme—do you start with a theological insight, a punchline, or something totally random?

A lot of times the inspiration will hit when I’m at Mass, listening to the homily. Sometimes I will add a little code word in my phone. Sometimes I will have a picture that’s so funny. 

On a big liturgical holiday or saint’s feast day I try to think of how I will honor this saint. Sometimes if I go a few days without making a meme I will ask the Holy Spirit to send me something. 

I like making memes. I can create a meme quicker than it takes to send a text message. 

In your opinion, what role does humor play in evangelization, especially in today’s social media landscape?

I have learned that you catch more flies with honey, than vinegar. And I think that’s so true. It’s important to keep my memes sweet (although sometimes it can be a bit spicy). For example my personal taste is to point out irony when it comes to pointing out the differences between Catholic and Protestant theology. I think humor keeps the door open for the Holy Spirit to work. 

How do you balance staying faithful to Catholic teaching while also making content that’s lighthearted and funny?

As my page has slowly grown this is something I worry about. Making sure I don’t fall into heresy or create something blasphemous. 

I do have some very close friends who on occasion I bounce my memes off them first. I have sent them to priests and seminarians. For the most part, I am overthinking it. I try very hard to maintain that level of responsibility with sharing the Catholic faith. 

If I’m not going to Mass or going to Confession I’m not going to have much inspiration for memes. I try to hold myself accountable when I am creating this type of content. 

Have you ever posted a meme that got unexpectedly deep—or sparked a serious faith conversation in the comments or DMs?

Where I am guilty, I don’t go deep in the comments sections. I just don’t have the time. I know there are some posts that have longer threads of comments usually as it relates to the comments. I have had other conversations with other meme-lords but that’s all in the DMs and private. 

Which meme of yours are you most proud of, and why? (Or which one made you laugh the hardest while making it?)

One of my favorites that does very well every year is one of Sacred Heart cupcakes (One year I made cupcakes for my family) and they were very DIY. 

I also made one because it’s local to me. I saw a photo of a church dedication, the priest and seminarian looking into the sun, and found it on a diocesan website. The caption was about as they were watching parents wrestle their toddler in the car seat their vocation was reaffirmed. 

How do you handle the occasional backlash or misunderstandings that can come with using humor in a faith-based space?

I don’t know if it’s a grace God has given me but I have been able to take a step back and walk in the other direction. If somebody can’t see the grace in using humor to share the Gospel it’s probably not inspired by the Holy Spirit. 

I have done a good job of tuning out the haters. 

If Fr. Fête were scrolling Instagram today, what kind of meme do you think would make him laugh the most?

That’s a good question, he would probably laugh at some of the parish council Susan memes. I’m thinking of Fr. David Michael Moses (he did a video about going out the window to hide from “Susan”. 

Where’s the best place to find your memes? 

Instagram and Facebook 

About Kate: 

Kate Roshak grew up in N. Canton, Ohio and is the oldest of 10 children. After college, she broke up with Ohio winters and moved south. Kate currently resides in Memphis, TN with her two daughters. She stays busy working and balancing “mom life” but she also runs and loves staying active. Currently Kate is in her “Soccer Mom Era” and loving every minute of it!

Thank you for sharing!

Martha, Mary, and the Heart of Discipleship: Putting God First

/ chicoinematt

Guest Post by: David Tonaszuck

 A Gospel Reflection on Luke 10:38–42

My dear friends in Christ,

As we gather here today, surrounded by the gentle presence of our Lord Jesus, I invite you to settle your hearts and simply listen; not just with your ears, but with the quiet spaces inside you where God loves to whisper. Today we reflect on a Gospel that feels almost like a scene from our own lives: Luke 10:38–42, the story of Martha and Mary.

Welcoming Jesus: The Home of Martha and Mary Comes Alive

Picture it. Jesus comes to visit Martha, Mary, and Lazarus in their home near Jerusalem; a home filled with love, laughter, and, on this day, a little bit of tension. Martha is hustling, doing all the things a good host does: cooking, cleaning, making sure everything is just right for their honored guest. Meanwhile, Mary sits at the feet of Jesus, soaking in every word. And Martha, overwhelmed and maybe feeling a little alone in her service, finally speaks up: “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her to help me.”

If you’re anything like me, you’ve felt like Martha before. Maybe more often than you’d like to admit. There’s always something that needs doing: at home, at work, in our families, even in our parishes. The world demands so much from us. But Jesus, with a gentleness that cuts right through the noise, answers: “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and worried about many things, but there is only one thing that matters. Mary has chosen the better part, and it will not be taken from her.”

This isn’t Jesus scolding Martha, or telling us to stop working, or to ignore our responsibilities. Far from it. Jesus is inviting Martha – inviting all of us – to step out of our anxious busyness and into the peace of his presence. He’s saying, “Let me be your center. Let me be your peace. Come, sit with me; let your heart rest in me.”

Two Coins, Two Priorities: Choosing Between the World and God

St. Ignatius of Antioch wrote about two “coinages”: one of God, one of the world; each stamped with a different image, a different set of priorities. The question for us is simple, but not easy: When we look at our own lives, which coin do we spend? Which side do we show the world? Is our life marked by frantic activity, or by a deep trust that God’s love is enough?

The truth is, we are called to be both Martha and Mary. We are called to serve, to work, to love our families and our neighbors. But before all that, we are called to be with Jesus. To listen. To pray. To let ourselves be loved by God so that everything we do flows from that love. Because when we put God first, when we let the Holy Spirit fill our hearts, our work becomes more than just busyness; it becomes worship.

And why do we place God first? Because of what Jesus has done for us in the Paschal Mystery: his suffering, death, and resurrection. Through his sacrifice, he opened the way for us to be reconciled with our Father, to receive forgiveness, and to share in the very life of God. Every time we sit at Jesus’ feet in prayer, every time we choose love over anxiety, we are living out the gift of new life he won for us. It’s not just our own strength that lets us choose the better part – it’s Christ living in us, through the Holy Spirit, because of the cross and the empty tomb.

Turning to the Holy Spirit: Finding Strength and Peace in Daily Choices

How do we do this? We start by asking the Holy Spirit for help. We ask for the grace to put God first, to let him shape our priorities, our days, our hearts. And when we stumble – and we all do – we remember that God’s mercy is endless. There’s always a place for us at Jesus’ feet.

Every day is a new chance to choose “the better part.” It might be as simple as a moment of silence before the day begins. A whispered prayer in the car. A few verses of Scripture before bed. Or, if you’re overwhelmed, maybe just a deep breath and a simple, “Jesus, I need you.” Every act of turning toward Jesus, no matter how small, draws us closer to the heart of God.

And here’s the real miracle: When we let ourselves rest in Jesus, we find that we are not alone in our work. He works with us. He gives us the strength to serve, to love, to carry the burdens of life with a peace the world can’t give. And he invites us to share that peace with everyone we meet.

Living the Invitation: Carrying Christ’s Love into the World

So today, as we go out into the world, let’s remember Jesus’ invitation: “I love you, my son. I love you, my daughter. Come, be by my side. Let our hearts become one.” Let’s choose the better part. Let’s place our trust in God, and let his love flow from us: in our work, in our families, in every act of kindness and service.

May we be a people marked not by anxiety, but by love. Not by busyness, but by presence. And may we always remember: Jesus is with us, now and always, loving us into the fullness of life.

Amen.

About Live the Eucharist

About Our Guest Blogger

Blessed Carlo Acutis once said, “Not me, but God.” His words echo deeply in my own spiritual life. This blog is not about me, but about the work of the Holy Spirit. I choose to remain anonymous because the voice behind these reflections isn’t what matters — the One speaking through them is.

I am a lifelong Catholic with a deep love for Scripture, the sacraments, and the quiet ways God speaks through everyday life. Live the Eucharist was born from my desire to share how the Gospel and the Eucharist shape not just my Sundays, but every step of the journey.

My hope is that these reflections bless you, challenge you, and draw you closer to Jesus — truly present in the Eucharist and profoundly present in your daily life.

Thank you for sharing!

The Domestic Church at Bedtime: Prayer Meets Real Life

/ chicoinematt

There’s something about the rhythm of a day that either drags us down or draws us closer to heaven.

Morning rush, midday crash, evening blur, bedtime chaos… then late-night scrolling. Then we wake up and do it all again.

But what if our messy, snack-filled, Lego-strewn, kid-powered day could become prayer?

That’s the gift of the Liturgy of the Hours—also called the Divine Office. It’s the Church’s invitation to sanctify time. Not just Sundays. Not just in silence. All of it.

So this week, we decided to dive in as a family and pray Night Prayer. Just one night. That was the goal.

We made it four days in a row.

That’s a miracle.

And not the “sun-dancing-Fatima” type. More like the “everyone was in the living room and no one was bleeding or eating marshmallows under the couch while we prayed” kind of miracle. #parentingwin

Daily prayer is like the roots of the spiritual life.

Day One: We Begin

We opened with:

“God, come to my assistance.”
— “Lord, make haste to help me.”

The dog started barking. Not sure if it was a leaf, a squirrel, or some minor demon. One kid began reading a bedtime story aloud. Another hung upside down on the couch like a bat.

Then came the sound of wheels on tile.

Our youngest daughter had gone rogue. She retrieved her pedal-less bike from the garage and was now circling the kitchen island like she was warming up for the toddler Indy 500.

My wife and I gave each other a look. The “is-this-worth-it?” look. We decided: let her ride. She wasn’t distracting the others, and honestly, her joy was kind of contagious.

Somewhere during the Psalm, one kid disappeared downstairs and came back with a snack. Again. Another resumed fiddling with a Rubik’s Cube. A third attempted to recite the Gospel Canticle in a British accent (no idea why).

We picked up toys already—eleven times that day. And here they were again, littered across the floor like sacred breadcrumbs leading us to sanctification.

And still…
We prayed.

The Divine Office, Lived Loudly

You see, the Liturgy of the Hours isn’t just for monks in cloisters or clergy in collars. It’s for families like ours—with ADHD, barking dogs, tired parents, and snack heists.

It’s the Church’s ancient prayer that baptizes time itself. A liturgical rhythm flowing around the Mass. A pattern of praise that runs through the cracks of ordinary life like gold in kintsugi pottery.

Each Hour of the Divine Office gives shape to the day:

  • Morning Prayer: praise and purpose
  • Evening Prayer: surrender and thanksgiving
  • Night Prayer: rest and trust
  • (Plus those middle ones if you’re especially caffeinated)

At the heart of each Hour? The Psalms.

As Fr. Timothy Gallagher says:

“Jesus not only prayed the Psalms; He fulfilled them.”

When we recite these prayers, we don’t just imitate Christ—we enter His prayer. We join a chorus echoing through centuries and continents.

Even when that chorus includes a 6-year-old spinning in circles during the Responsory.

Real Reverence Can Have Wiggles

By the fourth night, something shifted. Not externally—we still had interruptions. The dog barked. Someone spilled water. The pedal-less bike made its triumphant reappearance.

But the kids knew the words. They settled in quicker. They anticipated the prayers. One of them even whispered, “Is this where we say ‘Into your hands, Lord, I commend my spirit’?” 

Yes. Yes it is.

That moment—the soft reverence of a tired child remembering the psalm by heart—was holier than any candle-lit retreat. It was grace in the moment.

If you aren’t able to pray Evening Prayer from Liturgy of the Hours, here’s a short and simple one to start with.

Final Blessing

We closed with:

“May the all-powerful Lord grant us a restful night and a peaceful death.”
— Amen.

Then they each climbed into bed. It still takes many minutes to get to bed after prayer. Someone always forgets a drink of water or a stuffed animal. But there’s a beginning of a calmness (at least by a few degrees to start off). They really prayed. With their bodies, their voices, their interruptions… and their hearts. And we prayed together as a family (and in communion with the Church). 

So we’ll keep at it. Because God doesn’t just want our polished, filtered, idealized versions. He wants our real days. Our noisy homes. Our ordinary hours.

He wants this hour—even if it comes with Rubik’s Cubes, kitchen bike laps, and the occasional trail mix theft.

After all, as St. Ambrose said:

“The Psalms soothe the temper, lighten sorrow, offer security at night, and stir up holiness by day.”

Turns out, holiness sometimes looks like picking up toys for the twelfth time… and then praying anyway.

Related Links

3 Ways the Holy Family will Help Your Family

How The Jesus Prayer Impacted My Life

Praying the Divine Office as a Family 

Pray the Divine Office

Thank you for sharing!

Holy Laughter: Why Joy is Essential in Evangelization

/ chicoinematt

Sponsored: This article is made possible by Catholic Card Game, supporting quality and engaging Catholic content.

“Joy is the net of love by which we catch souls.”
—Saint Teresa of Calcutta

Let’s be honest: no one wants to join a movement that looks miserable. The early Christians didn’t spread the Gospel by groaning through Galilee. They were known for their joy. Their laughter echoed off prison walls. Their eyes shone even in persecution. Joy wasn’t just a bonus. It was the proof that the Good News was actually good.

Too often today, evangelization is reduced to debates, dour sermons, or social media posts that read like divine cease-and-desist letters. But what if the most powerful tool for evangelization isn’t argument, but amusement? What if, instead of trying to be taken seriously all the time, we followed the advice of Saint Philip Neri: “Let us make fools of ourselves from time to time, and thus see ourselves, for a moment, as the all-wise God sees us.”

Saints Who Smiled: Philip Neri and the Patronage of Joy

Saint Philip Neri, the patron saint of joy and humor, didn’t see laughter as a distraction from holiness. He saw it as a highway. He once shaved half his beard before a meeting—on purpose. When someone asked him if they could wear a hairshirt as penance, he replied, “Only inside out and over your cassock.” Why? Because holiness isn’t a performance. It’s not for show. Joy keeps us real. And being real is where conversion starts.

Neri understood a basic truth: solemnity is not the same as sanctity. Joy is contagious. Humor is disarming. If you want to open someone’s heart to Christ, a well-timed joke might work better than a lecture.

I’ve found this to be true even in my own life. I started The Simple Catholic blog not just to catechize, but to reconnect with joy—mine and yours. In a world that takes itself too seriously, Philip Neri reminded me that sanctity often looks like someone who doesn’t need to prove anything. Someone who knows they are loved.

Joy doesn’t have to be a solo act either. Sometimes, it looks like sitting around the table with friends or youth group teens, playing The Catholic Card Game and belly-laughing at absurdly holy prompt-answer combos. It’s in those moments of lightness that hearts open naturally to something deeper. Evangelization often starts with connection, and joy is one of the strongest bridges.

Laughter as a Leap of Faith

G.K. Chesterton said it best: “Angels can fly because they take themselves lightly.” That’s not a cute metaphor. It’s spiritual physics. When we cling to our pride, our reputation, our need to look “put together,” we sink. But when we surrender all that heaviness and laugh—even at ourselves—we rise. We fly.

Laughter is a leap of faith. It says, “I’m not afraid.” I’m not afraid to be silly, to be wrong, to be humbled. Why? Because I trust that God is good, and that He delights in me, even when I look ridiculous. That kind of joy is attractive. It evangelizes without preaching.

Chesterton warns us that “pride is the downward drag of all things into an easy solemnity.” It’s easy to be heavy. It’s much harder to be light. But that’s exactly what Jesus calls us to: “My yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (Matthew 11:30). When we carry that lightness—spiritual joy—we become walking invitations to the Gospel.

I recently experienced this with my own family during a game night. We cracked open Council at Daybreak, a fast-paced Catholic twist on the classic Mafia-style social deduction game. Within minutes, we were laughing, accusing, defending, and yes, trying to uncover the heretic in our midst. What struck me wasn’t just how fun and easy it was to learn, but how naturally it brought out joy, discussion, and connection across generations. Games like this are a subtle but powerful way to build community. And in doing so, evangelize with joy.

The Gospel Is Not Grim: Evangelization with a Smile

Somewhere along the way, many Christians bought into the idea that the holier you get, the more serious you must become. As if heaven is a long staff meeting where nobody laughs, and all the saints just nod solemnly at one another over harp music.

But that’s not the faith we profess.

We follow a God who turned water into wine at a party. A Savior who welcomed children and praised mustard-seed faith. Jesus didn’t need to wear a sign that said “Messiah.” People were drawn to Him because He exuded something irresistible: joy.

When we share the Gospel without joy, we’re not offering the whole truth. As Venerable Fulton Sheen put it, “A divine sense of humor belongs to poets and saints.” If we truly believe in the Resurrection—if we really believe death has been defeated—then shouldn’t we be the most joyful people around?

Evangelization isn’t just about information. It’s about invitation. And no one RSVPs to a joyless dinner party.

Joy is a Witness the World Can’t Argue With

Mother Angelica once said, “I try to laugh a lot, because life is funny, and everybody today is too serious. The only tragedy in the world, my friend, is sin.” That’s the secret. Joy doesn’t ignore suffering—it transcends it. Christians aren’t joyful because life is easy. We’re joyful because God is with us in it.

Laughter reminds us that we’re not God. That’s a relief, by the way. It grounds us in humility and reminds others that this whole Christianity thing isn’t about perfection. It’s about transformation. When we laugh at ourselves, we’re giving others permission to breathe. To be themselves. To let grace in.

Saint Teresa of Avila said it plainly: “God save us from gloomy saints!” And she was right. Gloom doesn’t glorify God. Joy does. Joy is what makes people stop scrolling and ask, “What’s different about them?”

The world has plenty of cynicism. It’s drowning in it. What it needs is light. Joy. A people who know the punchline of the story: that Love wins, and they live accordingly.

A Joyful Challenge for You and Me

So here’s the challenge: if you want to evangelize, smile more. Tell a joke. Share a meme. Laugh at your own awkwardness. Tell the truth in love, but make sure it’s the joyful truth.

Evangelization doesn’t always mean street preaching or quoting catechism paragraphs. Sometimes it’s simply being the kind of person others want to be around. The kind of person whose laughter gives others permission to hope.

Maybe it even starts with a game night. A box of cards. A mystery heretic. A round of laughter that turns into a moment of grace.

After all, “Rejoice in the Lord always,” Paul tells us in Philippians. “Again I say, rejoice!” That’s not a suggestion. It’s a command from a man who wrote those words from a prison cell. Joy isn’t naive. It’s powerful. It’s subversive. And it’s “resurrection-colored” hope in a Good Friday world.

So go ahead. Be holy. Be honest. But for heaven’s sake, be funny too.

Thanks again to today’s article sponsor! Visit Catholic Card Game for fun Catholic games to play with your friends and family.

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