At first glance, it does not seem hard to be Catholic. Go to Mass on Sunday. Pray. Keep the commandments. Love others. Sounds easy enough.
People like easy – it’s the key adjective in every advertisement these days: easy meals, easy programs, easy payments, easy installation. The implication is clear: what is hard is undesirable, unpleasant, unnecessary. What sane person would spend hours preparing dinner, completing a task on a computer, or assembling a new gadget when the easy way will whip things up in no time?
But if we dig past the surface, being Catholic is not so easy. Go to Mass every single Sunday throughout my 70 to 80 years, even in horrific weather and when traveling? Pray – who has time for that? Keep the commandments – I haven’t killed anyone, but am I really liable to judgment and to Hell, as our Lord warned, if I get angry with my brother or call him a fool? (Matthew 5:22) I haven’t born false witness, but do I really have to refrain from gossip and calumny too? Love others – even the obnoxious neighbor, the reckless driver, the crazy guy screaming on the subway?
To be a Catholic means to be a follower of Jesus Christ. He brokered a deal for us to do so: “If any man would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.” (Luke 9:23) And the reward for following Him in this life? “You will be hated by all for my name’s sake.” (Matthew 10:22)
For our Lord’s commandments, easy is not the first adjective that comes to mind.
Yet I do see “easy” tossed around in lots of Catholic marketing: easy apps, easy steps to prayer, easy ways to incorporate the faith into our lives. “Easy” has a cousin, “simple,” that is used synonymously to make the same point. “Just follow these easy steps and you will be a saint in no time – it’s that simple!”
So let’s offer a clarification: the general principle of being Catholic may be easy to comprehend – that is, follow Jesus – but to be Catholic in practice, that is, to follow Jesus as He commands us, is hard. Quite hard. And we should know that and accept that. For if we live our faith without struggle or challenge, we are not living it correctly.
If we are honest about this point, are we communicating to Catholics and would-be converts that our faith is undesirable, unpleasant, and unnecessary, like everything else that is hard to do today? If being Catholic is not easy, doesn’t there at least have to be some joy or fun in it? Is there any truth in that famous ditty of Hilaire Belloc:
Wherever the Catholic sun doth shine,
There’s always laughter and good red wine.
At least I’ve always found it so.
Benedicamus Domino!
We can reconcile that being Catholic is both hard and joyful by turning to the sports world for an imperfect parallel. Golf is an incredibly hard game to play well. That fact did not stop the 48 million Americans who played golf in some capacity in 2025, and their average scores prove that most stink at the game. The agony, the cursing, the grumpiness that ensue on a golf course for bad shots happen more frequently than the triumphs, joys, and high fives for the good ones. Everyone knows golf is not easy. Yet players keep coming back. The game is hard. Quite hard. They love it anyway.
Faith does not thrill the soul like sports, which sharply prick the senses. Faith is primarily a matter of the intellect, or, more colloquially, of heart knowledge. The acts of faith – prayer, attending Mass and receiving the sacraments, doing good deeds – satisfy the heart and mind in the manner of a good book or beautiful sunset. “Satisfy” is the optimal word. Sports thrill. Faith fulfills.
We do not perform the hard works of being Catholic because of that cliché: “If it’s not hard, it’s not worth doing.” We do them because that is what God asks of us. There may not be joy in performing these in the moment – prayer can be a slog, bearing another’s burdens can be terribly burdensome. And, by definition, there is no joy in the act of suffering. The joy is a reflective kind, one born in knowing that by doing these things we are coming into union with the God who loves us. Our senses may not be thrilled, but we know God fulfills our spiritual needs when we offer these hard tasks to Him.
And joy gives way to fun. It can be fun, after the fact, to recall terrible shots and bad breaks in a round of golf. Likewise, it can be fun to recall the difficulties and failures of Catholic life. “I fell asleep praying the rosary last night; I asked my guardian angel to finish it for me.” “I went to Confession and got so aggravated about the wait that I had a new sin to add by the time I got in there.” “I felt so dirty after seeing that movie that I wanted to drink a glass of holy water.”
Such fun only resonates with fellow Catholics who “strive to enter by the narrow door” (Luke 13:24). For hardship, joy, and fun coexist and reaffirm each other when united by a common love. This is the case for golf. It’s the case for family life. It’s also the case for Catholic life, which has plenty of good things, beyond the hardships, that generate joy and fun – but those are for another column.
The union of God with man in Christ generates another mystery: the union of the Cross, laughter, and good red wine, all within the one Church of God.
