Hope you had a blessed Sunday! 🙏✝️
Time for another Catholic Meme Monday.
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.
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 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.
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.
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 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.
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).
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.
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.
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.
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.
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!
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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”.
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!
Guest Post by: David Tonaszuck
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.
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.”
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.
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.
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.
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.
Hope you had a blessed Sunday! 🙏✝️
Time for another Catholic Meme Monday.
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.
Welcome to another The Simple Catholic Sunday Funnies! Growing up, one of my favorite parts of Sunday was flipping to the comics section of the newspaper: a little pocket of humor, color, and light-heartedness to start the week.
Now, in that same spirit, I’m excited to share this weekly collection of wholesome, funny Catholic comic strips. Thanks to the incredible talents of artists like Father Alvaro Comics, The Catholic Cartoonist, Sam Estrada, Tomics, and Fr. Michael DeBlanc. These comics bring a joyful twist to our shared faith, reminding us that laughter is one of God’s great gifts.
Enjoy Catholic comics!
Summer Note: With many of our amazing comic artists taking some well-deserved vacation time with their families, you may notice a lighter batch of comics some weeks. Thanks for understanding!
You can follow Fr. Michael on Instagram: @patermichaeldeblanc and on Facebook Fr. Michael DeBlanc).
Follow The Catholic Cartoonist on Instagram.
Follow Father Alvaro Comics on Instagram
Find more of Sam’s work at prostrada.com!
I hope this week’s edition of The Simple Catholic Sunday Funnies brought a smile to your face and a bit of lightness to your Sunday. In a world that can often feel heavy, it’s good to pause, laugh, and see our faith reflected in simple moments of joy.
Be sure to check back next week for more Catholic humor — and as always, feel free to share with a friend who could use a laugh and a little grace.
Editor’s Note: Matthew Chicoine interviewed Jocelyn Abyad via phone call on June 26th, 2025. Some of the questions have been rearranged and edited to provide the best reader experience without losing any integrity of the answers given.
In 2020 and 2021 my husband and I lost three babies due to miscarriage (at 10 weeks, 6 weeks, and 15 weeks). We were blindsided and found there were not a lot of existing resources that were compatible with our faith.
My husband and I did some research on this and found our own journey of healing. I found a local grief support group called Forget Me Not (they later merged with Owl Love You Forever).
From the work we saw with Forget Me Not, we were inspired to create more Catholic resources for those experiencing loss. My mom, myself and a couple friends started We Carry You Still as a non-profit in 2024.
I am an Eastern Catholic and my mom is a Roman Catholic, so we had the East and West represented. As we brought my friends on board, they are actually Orthodox, our mission expanded. The Orthodox similarly are not providing enough support on the miscarriage issue. Our faith is an Incarnate one. When you lose a child due to miscarriage it feels like this invisible weight that people are carrying on their own. One of the beauties of our faith is that we have a physical faith. We have our Mother in Heaven. She knows how it feels to bury Her child.
Well the name of our ministry reflects that vision. We address this on several levels. First, we know that the parents and immediate family carry the baby that was lost in their hearts, even for years to come.. We offer free Memory Boxes for the women who experience the miscarriage to help them remember their child and process their grief..
Similarly, we are empowering the community to show up for the grieving family with this gift box. Sometimes the community wants to help and show up but they don’t know how. This gives them a way to do that. Everybody together is carrying each other in their grief. Mothers, fathers, living children and even parents who had miscarriages decades ago. And helping the community around them support those in grieving their loss.
We also offer healing retreats (no matter how long it has been since you lost a baby).
Our retreats are offered to women and couples. We are in the unique position that my husband is serving as a priest and father who knows the loss of a child personally.
Our box packing events are an opportunity for people to help pay if forward and put their grief to work. While we do have some people who haven’t experienced this type of loss helping with the grief boxes, it is predominantly those couples who have experienced loss themselves with miscarriages helping to prepare these boxes for those couples who are currently going through the grief of losing a child.
First off, on our website, we offer informational guides and resources. We have a guide for anyone who is touched by these losses. We have guides in both English and Spanish. On our resources page we have book recommendations for both adults and children. Everything we recommend is in line with official Church teaching.
Typically, for children it is helpful to keep them informed about the miscarriage, bring them to the funeral, visit the graves of their siblings, and invite them in prayers.
There’s this context by which the children can experience such loss through the lense of faith. There’s a hope in the Resurrection and seeing our babies (and their siblings) in Heaven.
I think that while my children were very sad at the moment, having them be a part of the grieving process in light of our Catholic faith has been impactful in the healing process.
I think number one if I speak broadly, this is the forgotten front of the pro-life movement. We do a good job of praying outside abortion clinics and pray to end abortion and euthanasia. And yet we leave faithful couples in the pew who have experienced miscarriage with little to no support.
Burying the dead is a corporal work of mercy. If women are prepared to bury their babies; if people were given these resources they would be more prepared to deal with these crises when they happen.
I think we can be more sensitive on Mother’s Day and Father’s Day. Use more inclusive language that acknowledges that there is a range of experiences of motherhood and fatherhood.
Providing information is a key way. In the Diocese of Phoenix, we will be participating in the annual NFP training and giving couples resources if and when they may need it. To at least give them resources in the back of their mind should they experience a miscarriage.
I would point back to the guides we have on our website. Don’t be afraid to mention the child. The parents will not forget about their child. If you can remember the child by name it can be very empowering.
I try to ask open-ended questions to see how they are feeling. And I also ask people to tell me about your family instead of how many kids you have.
Visit us at We Carry You Still and take a visual tour to learn more. You can also follow us on: Facebook and Instagram @wecarryyoustill . There are two other excellent ministries in this line of work. One is Redbird which supports child loss of any age and the other is Springs in the Desert, who supports Catholics experiencing infertility.
Jocelyn Abyad is the wife of Fr. Zyad Abyad and mother of 7 daughters on earth and 3 babies in Heaven. She holds a degree in psychology from Arizona State University and worked as a finance banker for over a decade before choosing to stay home to homeschool her children. Alongside her husband, she serves at St. John of the Desert Melkite Catholic Church in Phoenix, Arizona.Jocelyn shares insights on homeschooling and liturgical living across multiple platforms as Melkite Momma and is a regular contributor to Byzikids Magazine. Throughout her work and personal experiences, Jocelyn seeks to foster faith, family, and community.