No children, no church

Dec 06, 2024

Word in Progress - Karen-Michaela Tan

Everyone knows the best thing about monthly BEC gatherings are the makan sessions following the reflection sheets. Despite parish priests making known that the provision of food at these gatherings was not mandatory, the collective Malaysian sense of hospitality is appalled by the thought of simply serving guests a drink and sending them on their way.

Thus the latest gathering at my home segued into fellowship around my dining table. Present were mothers of school-going children, retirees who cared for their toddler grandkids, and parishioners who also served as extraordinary ministers of holy communion. All were taken aback upon hearing of an unpleasant experience a young mother faced when at Mass with her differently-abled child. Being as children are, the child was squirming in her seat, and then proceeded to stand and wiggle in the pew.

Parishioners in the pew gave the mother the stink eye but said nothing, but another church goer from the next row beckoned to a hospitality minister and complained that the child’s moving was a disturbance. When the mother apologised and explained that her child was autistic and thus ‘stimmed’ (coping behaviour by autistic persons meant to self-soothe), the warden was abrasive and cuttingly suggested the parent and child sit in the babies’ room in order to not disturb other church-goers.

This begs the question as to how we see church. A church as a building is built for community. It is not a one-person structure. By its very design – wide doors to encourage entrance, large spaces to allow a multitude of faithful – churches are meant to mirror the invitation of Jesus to come to the king’s high feast. Jesus is not picky about who comes. The One who dined with tax collectors and sinners is well aware of the state of each attendee’s heart: the seeker, the penitent, the zealot, we are all welcome.

The people who serve at Mass should also, appropriately, serve from a place of love. The cantor and choir do not sing at Mass because they could not make it on The Voice. Their service is the oblation they pour out for love of the saviour. In the same way, hospitality ministers should also channel Christ in their loving kindness. Jesus did not step over the prone body of paralytics and order them taken away so as not to block access to Him. Jesus did not hurry away from the lacerated, matted, filthy Gerasene demoniac in Luke 8:26-39, nor turn away from blind beggars pleading for sight. Most tellingly, Jesus chastened the people who were shooing children away from him in Matthew 19: 13-15, and instead drew them near and blessed them saying, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.”

I have not always been a proponent of children at Mass. It was only after noticing a tired-looking mother with three children under eight in the front pew at Mass each Sunday without fail did I really see love and boldness in action. This harried mother, in ensuring her children were taught early the obligation of Sunday Mass, changed my views on kids in church. As I sat at the pew behind theirs, week after week, I’d observe how the mother would make little signs to her children to stand or be quiet. As I watched the good-natured husband sometimes carry a too-boisterous young ‘un out of church, sometimes missing communion, I soon became invested in the family of five. I began packing little toys, note pads, coloured pens in my bag to ‘bribe’ the kids when they fussed. Over the course of the year the youngest would learn to keep still all through Mass, and then turn to me with a big smile and announce that she had been listening and talking to Jesus, and could she please have a toy? It made Mass even more special for me, to have this little tot look out for me and share her little success at being a good little participant with me.

As I was formulating their article, I chanced upon a short video which emphasised things that every Catholic should know. The final point was about orthodoxy, and stated that the Church was full of orthodox, practicing Catholics. However, while good practices are important, with adherence to the teachings of the Church (for instance, the laity’s correct posture for the Our Father which means hands clasped in prayer or folded, not spread in the orans posture to mimic the presider, or the avoidance of meat on Fridays), it is as important or even more crucial not to forget holiness and joyfulness. And these things do not come out of grim, puckeredmouth religiosity, but rather a heart that has come to know firsthand the abundant love and generosity of God. The experience of that loving God puts a twinkle into the most cloudy of old eyes, and the spirit of generosity into hard hearts.

Knowing that the Lord Himself drew children to Him to bless, how can anyone begrudge the presence of a squirming kid in the pews or the involuntary, unchecked voice of a neurodivergent child or teen? Consider this before you judge: if you, who fall into the ‘neurologically normal’ category of the church-going, have ever struggled to keep awake, or indulged in silent coping behaviours like hand-clasping, finger twirling or sleeve tugging to stay focused at Mass, think how much harder it is for a differentlyabled person.

And then think of Jesus welcoming that person more warmly than He welcomes you. Just as Jesus commended the old widow on her meagre donation of two little coins, our Saviour sees the sacrifice in pride it takes a parent of a neurologically different kid to continually bring their child to mass to learn to praise, worship and adore the king of kings. This Advent as we look forward to the baby in the manger – a baby who for sure squalled and fretted at times – let us also make a point to welcome all the sometimes noisy little ones in our midst without censure.

(Karen-Michaela Tan is a poet, writer and editor who seeks out God’s presence in the human condition and looks for ways to put the Word of God into real action.)