Out of the Mouths of Babes
Learning from children
Our home parish–an already beautiful Church–recently underwent a beautification process. It received a fresh coat of paint, ornamental details, and additional artwork, making it even more beautiful. As you walk through the narthex into the sanctuary, the vaulted ceilings open up the space as if we’re leaving room for angels and saints to take their place above us. Rich dark brown wood panels adorn the back wall from left to right. At the end of the central aisle, you’ll find three steps into the recently dedicated altar, with St. Peter and St. Paul relics underneath it. Behind the altar, marble arches adorn the wall, and a golden tabernacle with the engraving of a lamb shines under a life-size crucifix. I've spent many an hour gazing upon it. Finally, above the crucifix are three stained glass panels. From top to bottom, the panels illustrate the Annunciation, the Nativity, complete with a cow and ox, and the Last Supper.
We usually attend the 8:30 a.m. Mass on Sunday, but we recently ended up at the anticipatory Mass on Saturday at 4:30 p.m. We had been at a birthday party, and the kids were sweaty and sugared up from all the treats. As we slid into the pew, I prayed the 4:30 p.m. crowd would be as forgiving of my children’s wiggly (albeit age-appropriate) behavior. As the priest began processing and the whining started, I worried this would be the longest Mass of my life.
I spent most of my time shushing my kids, gently separating them, and constantly reminding them to be quiet. After communion, all three of our boys, ages 2, 6, and 8, ended up together. Walther and I usually monitor two kids at a time, but I was trying to pray, and Walther was consoling Lucia, who was very tired and close to losing it. It’s never a good thing to have all our testosterone-laden lads together in the pew; things will quickly degrade into fighting. They started chatting in not-so-quiet voices. I sent a prayer and turned to tell them to stop talking when I paused to hear what they were saying.
The older two explained the stained glass panels above the altar to our toddler. They described each scene, what happened, what Jesus said and did, and how people responded. They were evangelizing to our 2-year-old with such detail that I snapped my mouth shut and listened. They explained salvation history as only a six—and eight-year-old can.
My eyes welled up with tears.
In my haste to chastise them to silence, I almost missed the message of Jesus Christ and why He came. I almost missed my 2-year-old absorbing all he could from his brothers about the One who loves us so tenderly and perfectly. I almost missed a perfect moment.
Sometimes, we as parents can be laser-focused on what we want to teach our children, that we don't pause to let our children teach us. I know I can get caught up in making sure they behave a certain way or keeping them quiet, especially during Mass. It can be stressful to take young children to Mass because many people in the pews do not have children or just don't remember that children can be noisy. But God does not want us to put on a show or silence our children at all costs, but to be open to His voice within those little ones. That Saturday, as I watched my sons share the Good News with one another, I was reminded of the verse Matthew 21:16:
And they said to him, “Do you hear what they are saying?” and Jesus said to them, “Yes; and have you read the text, ‘Out of the mouths of infants and nurslings you have brought forth praise?’”
What keeps me up at night isn't how I will teach them to read or how well they will do in college. I don't worry about what jobs they will have or how popular they will be. I worry about whether they will love God in adulthood. I worry that they will abandon their Faith and search for love elsewhere, only to be left wanting. My most ardent prayers for them are that they remain close to our Lord and as holy as possible. And I know many holy parents who have lost their children to the world. I've seen them weep because they did 'everything right,' and their children were still lost to the world. I cannot control how my children experience or seek God as they grow into adults.
But this little moment gave me so much hope. As my sons taught their little brother about the most profound Truth, my heart lifted, and I gazed at the cross again in deep gratitude for chatty children.
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What’s one thing you’ve learned from your children?
I was just discussing this with some friends yesterday! We went to a mass —not a real one, an Episcopalian one (I'm allowed to make this joke as an Episcopalian!!!)— and Kizzy sat relatively still and quiet for it; and people raved! I actually didn't know this was a lot to ask of a child; I don't know much about children or family life (or really anything), so the first time we went to a church, I told her: "It's considered rude to make noise or move around during these services; they're important, and it's just a little while each week. I know it's boring for a child. My advice would be to look around at the windows and the decorations, many of which have stories in them, and daydream and think about God and the world and so on. Some of what's said may be interesting, and the music should be beautiful too."
And she just seemed to take all that as a given. I have no doubt that part of this is that she's effectively an only child —her brother was just born, and she'll be 4 this year— so there are none of the many energetic resonances that siblings generate in these moments, and she has a lot of attention on her. No one has taught her yet just how weak our regime is; she'll figure that out and teach her brother soon, I'm sure.
Thanks for sharing a beautiful story!
Wow! Thank you for this post. I'm actually preaching on Psalm 8 in a week or so. I'm held by the thought that God can draw forth praise from the youngest of His children. I believe that what you've described in this article is not only true, but empowering for all who know of God's faithful provision for the humble and submissive to His goodness. Peace