When Children Annoy You at Mass

In several thoughtful pieces going around the web lately, various authors who are in fact the parents of tiny humans, share stories from the trenches of going to Mass in America…with kids. All of these articles are well-written, and offer various thoughts about why it’s important for children to be present at Mass. However, based on the comments surrounding them, one would think we were talking about ISIS members joining families in the pews. In fact, I think an ISIS would be more welcomed, provided he was quiet during the consecration.

The irony of “pro-life” Catholics telling families who have obviously been open to life that they better take the visible fruit of their marriage to the coat room because it’s cramping their style is pretty shameful. It’s also, I think, one of the last vestiges of the old and oppressive notion that “children should be seen and not heard”, and an unfortunate seeping in to the Church of the general culture’s discrimination against children and their presence in public spaces.

In fact, something I’ve noticed in the hate being spewed by people who call themselves followers of Christ, is a blanket condemnation of “this generation” of parents, who are “soft” on their children and “let them run wild”. In response to which, I have a couple of thoughts. Chief among them would be disgust that this is even a conversation that we need to have.

Children…at church.

1. The Cost of Obedience
   Yes, I’ll bet Junior back in the old days would sit straight as a pin during Mass if he thought he was going to be beaten with a belt by his father later. The threat of violence is often a deterrent, but at what cost? What message does it send my children about the importance of internalizing God’s all consuming, love for them, if all they know is that Mom will spank me if I don’t sit still. I’d rather have a learning curve, and age-appropriate expectations for my children than to instill in their precious hearts a connection between worship of God and violence. Look, we have rules at Mass and if the 5 year old breaks them, she has consequences. But I’m not impressed with people whose children behave because they’re terrified not to, and I’m not interested in hitting a 2 year old for acting like a 2 year old at church.
2. It’s Their Mass Too.
   Baptized children are part of the Body of Christ. And they are not any less important than you are. The fact that I need to point this out is very disheartening. Sure, they’re annoying sometimes. So are you when your singing sucks or your breath smells. But you expect me to put up with it every week, and I happily do, so my family should have the same expectation that their sometimes annoying behavior will be put up with too, because that’s what families do.
3. It’s A Dinner Party, Not A Date.
   You and Jesus, just the two of you gazing into each other’s eyes as you speak words of love to one another. There’s nothing better this side of Heaven, am I right? Well, yes. There is nothing better than those intimate moments where we experience God’s love for us, one on one. Only, here’s the thing: we have no right to expect Mass to be one of those times. Sometimes we experience it that way, but it does not exist for that purpose. Mass is the source and summit of the Christian life. Mass is a re-presentation of the sacrifice of the Cross. But it’s not meant to be a solitary experience. The Eucharist is food, and Christ purposefully chose to institute it at a dinner party, a meal meant to be shared with family and friends – a place of communion. The place to experience one on one, intimate love of Christ in the Eucharist is in Adoration. It truly is one of the most powerful experiences of silence in God’s presence one can have.
4. You Raised Us.
   Hey, guess what? If you don’t like the way we parent our children at Mass, take a long look in the mirror. You raised us. Either we’re parroting the parenting we received, or it had such a negative effect on us that we’ve chosen the exact opposite of whatever you did. Perhaps it’s some combination of the two. Either way, new parents don’t invent parenting strategies in a vacuum. It’s a village baby, and we’re all part of it. “But”, you might object, “I can’t control how my children turned out! They’re beings with free will and all I could do was my best.” If you said that, you’d be absolutely right. Our children, the children you begrudge a place at the Master’s table, are beings with free will. We can threaten them with any punishment, we can inflict any punishment, and yet, these are beings with free will who are going to make their choices. Just like you, and just like me. As when you parented us into the Catholics parents we are today, we are doing our best just by showing up and trying.
5. Offer to Help. I know, it seems a foreign concept to offer help to one’s struggling neighbor, but hear me out. I have twins. They’re two now and the Reign of Terror is in full swing.

   Terrifying, right?

   In fact, we’ve chosen to use a co-op nursery at our parish for the twins so we can focus on teaching their older sister about how best to behave and participate in Mass. However, as wonderful as the nursery is at our wonderful parish, I’ve been Catholic 30 years and never saw a parish with one until last year. Nurseries are a great option for families who would like to use one, but that said, they should never be forced on families either and don’t actually seem to be a viable option in most areas.

   Back to helping. When the twins were infants and we attended a different parish, we would frequently find ourselves in the position of literally having more needs than hands. Two 3 month olds and a 3 year old will do that to you. More than one Sunday morning found us each holding one upset or hungry baby, feverishly struggling to get a bottle prepared, while the 3 year old talked to herself at full volume because there was no one available to pay attention to her. Rather than shooting us dirty looks or shushing, clucking, or eye rolling at a pair of new parents who were obviously drowning in the blessings God had given them, older women sitting near us would volunteer to shake the bottle up, or hold a baby while we did. One woman would take an upset baby and walk her along the back of Church during the homily, so one of us could focus on the oldest.

   Is that not the pro-life thing to do? Is that not the Christ like thing to do, to offer help to those who are struggling, and give compassion to those who annoy us? Would not our churches reflect the reality of Heaven all the more if we offered help, and not scorn, to those who are trying to raise their children in the faith.