Glory of Home Life

Every child is a living example of drowning evil in an abundance of good, even if I am inclined to only see when they do something wrong.

For instance, it’s easy for me to see when they’re slouching in a way I don’t like or to take exception to how they say “sir.” I’m much less likely to see when they give me an HKB – Hug, Kiss, Blessing. Why is that?

Because I’m a sophisticated individual and they are vibrating masses of disrespect.

Just kidding. It’s because I’m wildly imperfect and, in my humble opinion, am outmatched in almost every way compared to their innocence. It’s frustrating. They are vastly superior. Our Lord even says so.

That’s why what I’m about to say might seem counterintuitive. It also comes with a great big disclaimer that it may only be true for our family, and it might not even be true for our family. Great. I’m glad to spend a whole blog post expounding on something that could be overcome by events tomorrow.

In our experience: we have found Mass behavior to be inversely proportional to the number of times a child goes to Mass. In other words, their behavior trends downward the more often we take them. Our kids don’t ever have an issue getting out the door. I can count on one hand the number of times we’ve gotten bad behavior before Mass. We seldom hear, “I don’t want to go! It’s boring! It sucks! I hate it! The pews are too hard! The air is too cold! Jesus is too wonderful!”

But once we’re at Mass, the story is quite different.

Let me know if this sounds familiar: you’re driving to Mass and for the 513th time this week you are gently asking your children, “What are the rules at Mass?” And you get back the standard reply which you and they have come to expect. In our case, it is, “Be quiet. Listen. Stay. Obey. Pray.”

Everyone is assured that today will be the day that all the stars in the known universe align (along with the planets, comets, asteroids, space debris, and whatever else is out there) and you are presented with the most pristine, serene, and sublime mass of your life. Forget the three-body problem. We are talking about a perfect solution to an infinite body problem.

But then you park and those van doors slide open. All of a sudden someone hops out holding a toy truck in their hand fully expecting to take it into the cavernous church in which not a single soft surface exists.

“Oh no, Henry. We can’t take our truck inside.” And it all collapses. You desperately try to catch the crumbling pieces of this tower you’ve erected in your mind, but you can tell the bit is set: Henry is not going to be happy at Mass without his truck. Christ himself could appear, pick him up, and cradle him, and Henry would still feel incomplete.

So what do you do? Cave and let him have the truck? No. You don’t. Rules are rules. And so goes the Mass.

I’ll stop there, but I’m sure I have painted a pretty familiar picture for a lot of you.

What in the world is a Catholic family to do? Well, I’ll tell you what we did. We stopped taking them.

I understand that my one job in this life is to doggedly pursue holiness. I also understand that a separate but related duty of such a pursuit is to do everything I can to make my wife and children holy. Wouldn’t leaving them at home for Mass seem to fly in the face of that?

Maybe! I don’t know, to be honest. All I can do is point to the evidence. Our kids behave better when they’re at Mass now. They also ask to go to Mass at times. My boys – ages 2 and 5 – also get frustrated when I say they aren’t old enough to go to Mass yet, and that they will go when I think they are ready.

See what I’m trying to do? I’m attempting to paint the Mass as a privilege. This is a tactic the Marines long used in their recruiting: you’re probably not good enough to cut it here. Look somewhere else.

To my great surprise: it generally works. I’m not saying they reverently follow the Mass. Not even close. I am saying, however, that general behavior is more consistent.

Another benefit to come out of it (and quite by accident) is that our two older children, Lily and Teresa, feel a special privilege in being extended a direct invitation to attend Mass with either Mommy or Daddy. They take it very seriously and are always happy to say yes. As a result, at least superficially, they seem to enjoy the Mass.

Now that I’ve given our solution, I’ll get into the why.

First, we implemented this decision as part of a strategy recommended by priests we have spoken to. These priests were not trying to alleviate burdens on us or give us an easy way out. If anything it’s more challenging now since we are generally splitting masses and having to be more creative. Rather, they recommended it (independently, I’ll add) because they were products of the same strategy. One priest recounted that his parents routinely ignored him at Mass. Another said he was not allowed to go to Mass or say the family Rosary until he was seven. Another was always extended an invitation to go to Mass, but never required to go – even on Sunday! And here they are having committed themselves to a religious vocation. That was striking.

Second, we didn’t want the Mass to ever be a source of contention or resentment for our children. Early on, it’s enough to simply be around Mom and Dad. Later on in life, that’s probably not going to cut it. If the bad memories outweigh the good in the highest of earthly celebrations, why would they want to attend as adults? This doesn’t mean we’re going to compromise on our commitment to attend Mass daily or fail to enforce the rules when we are at Mass.

This is in line with recent steps we’ve taken to instill a greater sense of freedom in our home. We understand that we’re taking a risk here. God took the same risk with us. He knew some of us would reject Him, just like we know some of our children may reject us and the Faith.

But if God doesn’t force us to believe, I can’t do the same to my children. All I can do is model fidelity and hope they fall in line. If they don’t, then the next best thing would be an example of enduring unconditional love. At least then the door to return like the prodigal son would remain open.

That’s the hope at least.

St. Joseph, Glory of Home Life, pray for us!