When children sit in church, they rarely do. Instead, they spend their time finding
various and new ways to get all parts of their bodies on their portion of the pew
simultaneously.
However, some children do sit nicely. They even pay rapt attention to what the priest
or lector is saying. But it's never your own children. That's why a wise old motto-writer
once said, "The child is always greener on the other side of the yard." Or
something like that.
Recently my eight-year-old daughter did something that sent chills down my spine. She
sat quietly and absorbed every move, every prayer, every word the priest made. The thought
flashed through my mind that maybe her body had become possessed by an angel.
Wanting to encourage this behavior, I whispered some praise into her ear. She nodded
and continued listening intently to the liturgical prayers.
Parents sometimes wonder why their children behave well. After a little thought, we
come to the conclusion that it's because we've taught them well. Nevermind that we've used
the same teaching methods on another child in the family who's not showing the same
results.
My daughter, too, was wondering why she was behaving so well. She eyed the pretzel
shape her brother had worked himself into and, as she sat quietly facing the altar, busily
calculated some explanation that would make sense.
"Mom," she whispered after several minutes. "I know why David can't sit
still during Mass and I can."
"Oh?" I asked, eager to learn how to get my son to look angel-possessed.
"David's two years older than me," she said. "He can't sit still because
he's got two more years of sinning than me."
Perfectly logical.
Of course I really should explain to her that the Sacrament of Reconciliation had wiped
those years of "sinning" away. But she did have a point. I doubt that two extra
years of bugging a sister and refusing to eat vegetables -- even without the Sacrament of
Reconciliation -- could make a young boy find body contortions more fascinating than
grown-up style praying and preaching used throughout the Mass. However, what about my own
body contortions at Mass? Or the mental ones? Why do I sometimes lose track of the
Eucharistic presence and pay more attention to miscellaneous thoughts on the meaning of a
dishwasher, a weedy lawn or a husband who tries to kill visiting mice with a rubber
mallet?
Did my sinfulness have anything to do with it?
Sin puts a wall between us and God. The Sacrament of Reconciliation and even a
heart-felt prayer of repentance tears down that wall. The weaker the wall, the stronger
our communication with God. And the better our communication is with Him, the better our
attention stays rivetted on the things of God, including Mass.
As it turned out, my squirming son heard more of the Mass than I assumed. And I almost
missed Christ's presence at Mass because I was so busy wondering why one child can sit
still and the other can't.
