Over the years, America has published several articles about the joys and challenges of bringing young children to Mass. In a popular essay from 2014, the late Brian Doyle describes one priest’s memorable response to the presence of rambunctious kids in the pews:
Sometimes people complain and make veiled remarks about behavior and discipline and decorum and the rapid dissolution of morals today and stuff like that but I have no patience for it. For one thing they were little kids at Mass once, and for another if there are no little kids at Mass, pretty soon there won’t be any Masses. You have to let kids be kids.
More recently, Katie Prejean McGrady wrote about bringing her daughter to a chapel for eucharistic adoration—and being made to feel less than welcome:
I have never felt so small, insignificant or unwelcomed in my life than in that single moment after I showed my child Jesus in the monstrance for the first time and was met with a harsh tone, disapproving words and a cold stare from a fellow Catholic.
She insists that we should welcome the noise of children: “A silent church is a dead church because life makes joyful noise.”
Articles like these invariably illicit responses from readers who have had experiences of feeling welcomed—or not—at Mass with their young children. Below is a selection of comments from over the years, posted on Facebook and America’s website. They have been edited for length and clarity.
Are All Welcome?
I think we are wrong to blame kids for their behavior or blame parents for the poor behavior of their kids. Congratulations to all parents for bringing their kids to Mass. My son once started crying during a priest’s homily. As I fumbled around for a pacifier, unbeknownst to me the priest had stopped talking and was looking right at me. Once my son stopped crying I look up and the priest says out loud for everyone to hear, “Can I continue?” I never returned to that church and have always felt very sorry for the people who go there.
We found a church that purposely had no crying room, where the kids are invited to the altar at every Mass, where crying is tolerated and ignored. The pews are filled with families. Some with kids with snacks, books, toys, even video games. I personally wanted my kids to learn to sit through Mass without any such crutch, but I certainly don’t think ill of the parents who allow it. Guess what? They are at Mass every week! Eventually, those kids grow up, put away their toys and snacks and still come every week! That is what tolerance and a welcoming parish is. — Anna Cepeda
Once my son stopped crying I look up and the priest says out loud for everyone to hear, “Can I continue?” I never returned to that church.
As a mom to 5- and 3-year-old boys and a 1-year-old girl, I have found that you need to find the right church for your family. We moved about two years ago and started going to our new local church. After a year, it was not working out, we did not feel welcome at all. We switched back to our old church, which is now half an hour away, and it has been a worthwhile experience. I lament that my kids won’t see their local friends from school at church or religious education, but the Salesian “All Are Welcome” theme of our parish makes the small sacrifice worth it.
I try to go through Mass in the pews and without food or toys as well, and I know my kids aren’t taking in much. But they are taking in some of it. I can see it in those fleeting moments when one of my boys will kneel and put his hands together, even if it only lasts three seconds. But going to Mass with three small children is always a great sacrifice. As parents, we try so hard to make our children behave or at least not disturb the others around us, and no matter the effort, someone is usually disturbed. Our priest reminds the parishioners that our commitment to being pro-life extends beyond the nine months in the womb and includes the rambunctious phases of toddlerhood. As baptized Christians, it is my children’s right and my responsibility to ensure they are at Mass, even when it is inconvenient to us and others. — Kristina Adams
Our priest reminds the parishioners that our commitment to being pro-life includes the rambunctious phases of toddlerhood.
I was once asked by the priest to not return to weekday Mass if I brought my 2-year-old, who was sitting quietly beside me. I quickly found another parish. — Millie Richardson
Invisible Disabilities
It is very hard for my 12-and-a-half-year-old with autism to sit still, especially on hard wooden pews. Often he will curl into my lap. We get many stares and severe looks because my son “looks” normal. But I get those hugs [from him] and the knowledge that they were heaven sent. — Sharon Valente
It would be nice if everyone remembered that not all disabilities can be detected with the naked eye.
As a mother of five children, four of whom have A.D.H.D. and two of whom also have an autism spectrum disorder, I am grateful to hear [Brian Doyle’s] welcoming attitude. I know I was a squirmy, talkative young child and more than once had to be spoken to (or got that little pinch) in attempts to quiet me. On one occasion, an older parishioner made some comment to my parents about my behavior. My father never returned to church.
I always make an attempt to help other parents or give them a welcoming look as they try to wrangle their little ones. My youngest are 7-year-old twins, and we continue to work on improving their behavior as they prepare for first holy Communion. It would be nice if everyone remembered that not all disabilities can be detected with the naked eye. If everyone would give others the benefit of the doubt, that people do the best they can, we would all get along so much better! — Kathy Vines
‘Let the Children Come’
I have seven children and have always taken my children to adoration. In fact, at our old parish, my five children and I committed to one hour each week in adoration in a chapel. We had some meltdowns and noise, but every week our hour ended at 3 p.m. and we prayed the Chaplet of Divine Mercy. In fact, the elderly woman who arrived after us would come early and hold the baby and talk to the younger children about Jesus’ presence. She ended up making dolls for my young girls. When she died we stayed an extra hour until someone else was found to cover for her. — Kristen Ciaccia
One Sunday, I saw a 2-year-old girl make the sign of the cross. I knew God was with her! — Kathleen Spears Hopkins
Watching my 3-year-old granddaughter dance with our wonderful teen band is always a special time for me. She has not yet learned the words to these songs, but she feels the beauty in them. — Gene Chabot
I am not a parent, but I get a kick out of seeing little toddlers and young kiddos try to shake everyone’s hand during the Exchange of Peace. What better way is there to introduce kids to the love of a Christian community and to encourage them to be an important part of it? — Adria Gallup-Black
I have seven children and have always taken my children to adoration. A child’s voice is a reminder that God hasn’t given up on us yet. Maybe that “noise” can be a reminder and help us reflect on God’s goodness. — Kristen Ciaccia
Lying to children about UN-provable gods is Child Abuse!
There is just One, Single, Solitary book of legends and fables is the total evidence for your gods???~!!
The Bable and all of its truths:
http://bibviz.com/?fbclid=IwAR1lE2rjyNb0eTJvW7xLODLdNN-Eb0c1n1SGAELUYREAbhw4pwSXoXIrV0M
Several years ago, when I was reading last Sunday's Gospel at Mass, with its narration of how the good people of Nazareth reacted to Jesus' claim that "today, this Scripture passage is fulfilled in your hearing," I got to the part where they drove Jesus out of town, intending to throw Him off a cliff. A look of horror came across a pre-school girl's face who was seated in the very front pew, a few feet from the pulpit. The thought of doing such a thing to the Lord was clearly too much for her to bear. She put her hands to her cheeks and shouted for the whole church to hear, "GOOD GOD!" I was so tempted to interrupt the Gospel and say, "Exactly right, little girl. Our God is so good that He puts up with the worst of our sins and stubbornness." But instead, I followed the rubrics. Sometimes we need to see Church teachings, and even the Lord Himself, with the fresh vision of a child.
I'll offer my own experience with eight kids. My wife and I knew that Mass was never going to be an "experience" for us while we had kids there. Taking them to Mass from their first days of life was an obligation we had to God in gratitude for the salvation He gave us in Jesus Christ. It was sharing the most important thing in our life, that is, Person: Jesus Christ. Now, I'll volunteer that I'm never well concentrated during Mass at any time, but the Eucharist is limitlessly beyond the music, the homily, the Lectionary, or even the beautiful prayers. I'm never "worthy" or "collected" or "attentive" enough to receive Jesus in the Eucharist, but that's not what Jesus commanded. He said "eat My Flesh."
However, we did not take confidence in the efficacy of the Sacrament as license to let our kids become disruptive. I don't know what makes other Catholics "tick" and it's not my place to judge their concentration or their piety or their charity—or to strain them.
We spent most of each Mass attending to the kids and introducing them to what goes on. We explained it quietly as it progressed. This helped a lot. Yes, there were times they became fussy and occasionally loud and crying. We would take them out, walk with them, bounce them and calm them as best we could. It was tense brinksmanship many times, never knowing whether a child had calmed, or was just collecting energy for another outburst. Occasionally one of us would be out in the vestibule with two for the entire Eucharistic prayer, the other staying with the older kids, then switch after Communion.
This was our job with little kids at Mass. I'm pretty sure it did more for my own holiness than any other thing I could have done with my Sunday obligation.
That's it? No responses from parents who work out attendance at Mass alternatives to this everybody belongs everywhere all the time? When my husband and I had three children under 3 we took turns going to Mass an hour apart. We prayed together at home. It wasn't necessary in our spiritual lives to pray together in church. We did take the children to church to pray when it was quiet. (Does anyone still call it, "Making a visit?") When each child was able to sit, stand or kneel (that was a silly sight), and be quiet at appropriate times he was privileged to go to Mass. The only crutch was the rotation of a small library of children's religious books. Eventually the complete set of four boys made it every Sunday with mom and dad posted between them at the discretion of the moment. I have to say that when they were all teens the thought of taking turns at Mass crossed my mind again! My point is that all of the above responses are of a similar mind as the parents who let their kids run all over a restaurant, or jump on the furniture at the doctor's office because they are children. Let's have some balance here.
Growing up, my parents always sat near the rear of the church. We looked at those individuals and families sitting in the front pews as just so apparently pious.
When my wife and I took our kids to church, it was a mix of alternating schedules, sometimes staying home, sometimes taking them. Some days were winners, others losers. At one point it dawned on me to sit with our kids in the front pew; it places them closer to 'the action' of the Mass, and they got the point that everyone else in church could observe their behavior. I can't say it was the ultimate fix, but it did have a positive effect.
Times have changed. In the good old days it used to be said "the family that prays together lives together". Bringing children to mass is a good idea. As children grow up, they will replace the ageing, balding and greying old mass-servers.
I understand that most guardians do really well with their youngsters in chapel, and most wards complete a truly decent of employment of working with children. On numerous Sundays the clamor level never surpasses sensible dimensions. https://bit.ly/2Gmxnd4
Even if the toddlers don't understand what is going on, they can learn how to sit still, be quiet (or use their quiet voices), and to self-discipline themselves. These are skills that some parents forget to teach. In church I see some families where the parents clearly have coached their young children even before they get there, and some where even the parents don't seem to have much self-discipline. And most parents know there is a point when the noisy one needs to be taken out of the room for a while. All are welcome, and I love to see them there. All the priests we have had make a point to welcome everyone, especially young children. One parish has a kids' Bible time during the homily when all the pre-schoolers know to go to the next room for a kids' Bible story. I have mixed feelings about this, but it seems to work fine at that parish.
In life they can do a lot. We need to pray for the well-being of all religious leaders. network dns
This is really ridiculous.
Growing up, my parents always sat near the rear of the church. We looked at those individuals and families sitting in the front pews as just so apparently pious.
Thanks
https://mytellthebell.com