“Euww,” a baby cries behind me. I hear its gentle gurgles and a mother’s soft laughter.
I’m watching the Mass go on- I say watching because I often feel like an observer as much a partaker in the newness of it all- but I am all too aware of the sounds around me. The row of children in front of me are shuffling to and fro. A little boy with wide blue eyes stares up from his coloring page at me and I can’t help but send him a smile. A toddler comes back from the bathroom and is tiptoeing (child-like monster stomping) across the pews away from his father and towards his mother.
“Mama!” he cries.
Another baby in the back of the sanctuary cries. Another gurgles.
For a moment, my head turns from facing the tabernacle towards the chubby-faced and wide-eyed creature behind me. As I lock eyes with the baby for half a second, my entire response to that around me feels re-oriented or perhaps is made more aware. My eyes focus in on an old couple. Then, a sweet older man, and by older I mean he must be at least 90, cries out an ‘amen’ a beat too late and loud enough for all to hear. I see more couples in various stages of life, 30’s, 40’s, 50’s, 60’s and so on. They whisper to one another here and there. At other times they bow their heads. And in this moment something clicks and is made clear.
This is heaven.
This is where the little children come.
This is where the old wait in anxious anticipation that soon they will meet their Maker.
As new birth and life are given into the church, that which is mature cusps at passing, and the cycle of life is seen. The body of Christ is birthed.
Rather than distracting me from the Mass, it makes me only more aware of the Lord’s nearness, of how truly close heaven is to us in this moment. How truly the Church echoes heaven’s cries and praises. Here in this moment the Lord indeed has my entire attention. I am captivated.
…
I remember my cousin, the Catholic one I have mentioned on here from time to time, telling me that Catholics baptized babies because Jesus said to “let the little children come.” At first, this didn’t resonate with me. Sure, children were invited into the creator’s presence, but did that truly mean this was what that meant? Didn’t they need to be older, more mature, more reasoned for Him?
No. No, I realize now this kingdom is theirs. It is theirs if not more so than it is ours.
I never grew up seeing children in church. Kids were confined (often, not always, I do not want to generalize) to Sunday school or the nursery. “Big church” where the adults went to hear a message was too long and big and taxing for the young mind. This was one of the first things that shocked me when attending a Catholic Mass for the first time. There were babies everywhere. Kids of all ages (including the terrible twos and threenagers) were there.
I was taken aback at first thinking this was strange. My, what backward thinking! Something that continues to amaze me every Sunday is the rows of families who arrive, two, three, four, five kids or more in counting in tow. But, they know the importance of their presence. They know the Lord said “And whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me”1 and that “If anyone causes one of these little ones—those who believe in me—to stumble, it would be better for them to have a large millstone hung around their neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea.”2 And “see that you do not despise one of these little ones. For I tell you that their angels in heaven always see the face of my Father in heaven.”3
It is in the children’s very presence I find a reflection of the Father’s kindness and goodness. Here in the Mass, I am reminded of heaven.
Matthew 18:5
Matthew 18:6
Matthew 18:10
We were so nervous to bring our kids (at the time 4, 2, and a newborn) to mass the first few times. They had never gone to any sit-down event. There certainly were squirms and giggles but they did surprisingly well and the people around us were so kind, going out of their way to let us know our children were welcome. A year in, we’ve got a rhythm now. Owen (3) loves to put holy water on his forehead in a cross, Isla (1) runs up to the tabernacle and slumps to her knees saying, “Happy! Jesus!” And August (5) is grumpy but generally willing to say the responses and the Lord’s Prayer. It’s so sweet to see their faith grow bit by bit.