Do you ever ask yourself this question?
Here's what our Sunday routine usually looks:
MUST get moving by 7:45 or we WILL be late. Get up, make breakfast and then force kids to eat breakfast even though they would rather watch cartoons. Find nice clothes for everyone. Yes, I should lay these out the night before, but that only ends up happening one week a month. The big boys can get dressed themselves but one of them always comes out in two very nice items that completely offend the human eye when paired together. He must change and must do it while making sure I feel the full impact of the injustice that I am making him change again. Change three dirty diapers, throw away another nasty pull-up (my poor kids come from a long line of bed-wetters so we will be keeping Pull Ups and Good Nights in business for the next 15 years). Then wrestle the unbelievably acrobatic one-year-old into something suitable and hope that once I get all those god-forsaken snaps finished he will not just poop again. Now I must listen to my four-year-old-tomboy-stuck-between-five-brothers cry over the infringement of her personal rights as I wrestle her into a dress. Then I fix her hair, usher everyone else into the bathroom where daddy combs hair and oversees teeth-brushing. Okay, 10 minutes to spare...oh wait, I'm not dressed.
Once we all pile into the alluring 12 passenger van we say a quick prayer of thanks that once again we have made it this far and if we hurry, get dropped off at the door, and push past the priest before he proceeds to the altar we might all get a seat.
As if this harrowing adventure hasn't been enough, now we have to sit through an hour long church service.
I cannot remember the last time I actually heard a mass, or felt even remotely present. Even if I am fortunate enough to stay in, or near my seat, I am constantly looking behind me, beside me, in front of me to make sure the baby doesn't crawl away, the two-year-old doesn't start hitting someone and stop the 4 and 5 year old before they make telescopes out of their song sheets, or worse fashion them into some kind of stick to flog each other with (unless of course it's during the Penitential Act in which case they are obviously just inducing discomfort as an outward sign of their repentance).
I try to at least kneel and close my eyes during the Consecration but that usually lasts about .5 seconds because it is nearly impossible to kneel while holding two little humans. Or even more frequently, one of the children waits until this pinnacle moment to completely melt down, scream and all-together lose it so that I can make the long walk from the back row (since this is the only place we could get a seat) all the way to the narthex while the steadfast faithful attempt to pray in spite of the echoing evidence of our sinful and contumacious nature. I am doing them the favor of reminding them that we are all fallen while God takes the opportunity to create in me just a little more humility in case I thought I was not in need of his grace every waking moment.
During the "peace" we must attempt to keep some semblance of order as they find the liberty to speak overwhelmingly appealing and think this is a good time to start telling me all the things they've been holding in for 35 minutes...or as they take the opportunity to kick their brother while smiling and saying "peace be with you."
The final adventure is of course the communion line. This is when I want to be most present as I never want to forget that this is my Lord, body, blood soul and divinity and he is here to fill my soul. So I attempt to meditate on this at least briefly while I carry one or two people, and corral two others making sure their arms are crossed and they're not going to pull a fast one and accidentally open their mouths.
Shew! Now we just have two more songs and maybe an announcement and then "Thanks be to God" we can go in peace, and if it's the first of the month we'll get donuts!
Now, don't you feel refreshed, fulfilled and spiritually replenished?
So, why do we do it?
1. Because we are commanded to do it. Simply put, sometimes the best motivator is that we have to do it. God commanded it, the Catechism reiterates it and we just plain need to go.
2. Because Christ is really there. The reason we are commanded to go is because Jesus promises to show up every time and He wants to see us. We NEED the Sacraments. Our SOULS need them and so even if we have to take our bodies (or the bodies of lots of others) kicking and screaming it is the best thing we can do for our souls.
3. We have to set the example. I know some people split up so that they don't all have to go at the same time and that is certainly okay to do. I have always been insistent that we all go, all together and that we don't leave babies at home. This is not because I am super holy but because I think, like meals, it is something I want my children to look back on and remember us always doing as a family. If we want our children to grow up and be adults that attend mass, and better yet, take their children with them, then we have to take them to mass, and better that they never remember a time when they weren't there.
4. It gets easier. To all you wonderful warrior mommy's and daddy's whose children are all under 5, hang in there!! It really does get easier and they really do learn to sit still and participate in mass. While wrestling with my 4, 2, and 1 year old I often find great hope and joy when I look over and see the 9 year old actually praying and saying the liturgy and kneeling after communion because he knows Jesus is with him. Some Sundays are certainly better than others but ultimately one of the primary things we am trying to cultivate in my children is a relationship with Christ and that begins at mass.
5. It's a nice reminder that you are not alone. I love our church and all the dozens and dozens of babies making noise and crying while they're there. Even on the Sundays where I don't hear the homily, could not tell you what the gospel reading was, and don't know what color vestments the priest had on, I leave feeling refreshed because I am reminded that we are all the body of Christ, and we fight through these tough years together. When you live in a world that doesn't understand you, that mocks the decisions you make on a daily basis, and you have an enemy that is hell-bent on discouraging, frustrating and destroying you, it is important to be reminded that you are not alone!
6. The children are the Church. For all you Gen Xers out there, Whitney wasn't kidding when she said the children are our future. They are the church. They are the life of the church and it's hope of continuing another 2000 years. Our culture is so loud, so busy and frantic it will go a very long way that our children learn to be still and silent for an hour a week ( and even better if we find a way to cultivate this silence in other ways in our homes). I hope you belong to a parish that welcomes children and babies, but if you are fighting the good fight and forced to a cry room every week, just remember that Jesus asked the children to come to him so go to communion even with that baby screaming because Jesus asked you to bring him and wants to give you the grace to keep coming.
7. You will encourage and bless others. One of my favorite things about mass is all the smiles and understanding nods we get from people as we file in, file out, trade babies and walk swiftly with screaming toddlers. They encourage me with their knowing glances and smiles, and so often we are a sight of joy and encouragement to people as well: to young adults who don't have children yet, but you can see the longing and anticipation in their eyes, to people with one or two little children who love to see someone surviving with more than 2 because it encourages them that it's possible. My favorite are the older couples who find you after mass to tell you how many children they had, and how wonderful it was, and how fast it went, and how much they miss when the children were young. It's a reminder to us all that life is fleeting, and that time goes too quickly.
We make all kinds of sacrifices for our children. We pack their schedules and cart them all over town, going to great lengths to make sure they are balanced and happy and entertained. Our greatest efforts should be put forth to form their souls, to remind them that they have a creator who wants to have a relationship with them, who loves them and who created them for something.
And that is why, in 6 days we will do it all again.
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