Mass is a Brush with the Divine ... or a Contact Sport

Lea McCarthy points out the humorous and the divine in bringing small children to church, reminding mothers of our vital role in participating in the mystical Body of Christ.

I’m going to tell you a story. Once upon a time, there was a young lady who came to Mass before the readings began. She picked a pew and didn’t leave it until it was time to receive Holy Communion. She carried a small purse or sometimes just her keys. She didn’t even know where the church bathroom was, for she never had to use it. Mass was a peaceful, quiet experience.

Ready … Set … Hut!

Believe it or not, that young woman was me before children. (You may believe it; I still have trouble remembering those days myself.) You mothers who are parents of young children probably tell your awed youngsters tales of strange feats you achieved, such as arriving at the church before the priest processed up to the sanctuary. Do you remember the time you could open a missal to follow along with the readings without having a toddler repurpose the book for the tower she is building? Forget the small purse; these days you pack enough snacks and drinks in your diaper bag to feed a third-world country, and the amount of detritus strewn in your pew guarantees you will never be confused as to which one is your family’s. I mean, if you actually sat down, that is.

Going to Mass isn’t a passive experience for parents of young children, it’s a sporting event with strong similarities to track and field. There’s the Pew Hurdle for parents whose little ones crawl away after rolling cheerios with lightning speed, the Center Aisle Dash after young escapees, the Cry Room Calisthenics with the screaming baby, and the Bathroom Bailando for parents whose children’s bladders suddenly shrink to the size of gumdrops the moment they cross themselves with the holy water. We young parents don’t even get to sit down for more than five minutes straight, let alone pay attention to the liturgy taking place.

When I went to Mass with my husband before our children came along, it was a beautiful, sacred experience in which I came away edified and peaceful. In the stage of life our family currently is in with two small ones, it’s a lot harder for my husband and I to see the beauty and sacredness that is present because we’re constantly monitoring, redirecting, and responding to the needs of our two girls. Some days, the experience of taking the girls to Mass leaves me more frazzled than I was before we came!

You’re Not a Pew-Warmer: You’re on the Team

But this is good. Why do I say that? For several reasons. First, going to Mass isn’t about what we get, be it pious feelings, a sense of peace, or personal edification. Spiritual consolations like that are always a welcome gift from God, but the whole point of going to Mass is to give God worship! If our relationship with God is all about our spiritual gratification, that’s a self-centered, immature attitude that needs adjusting. Going to Mass with our littles requires effort and sacrifice. In that way, we are giving God a gift that truly costs us something and is even more precious than if we attended Mass with our spirit buoyed up on the waves of deep contemplation.

Second, we are setting an example for our little ones. When they grow older, they will remember that going to Mass wasn’t optional, and you weren’t swayed by meltdowns or embarrassing situations. Consistently attending Mass is part of your family routine, and the kids will understand by your example that "going to Mass is what we do and it’s important." Somehow, despite their monkey antics, they manage to absorb much more of the liturgy than we give them credit for. Case in point, last week our two-year-old repurposed our kitchen trash can for an ambo and wanted us to sit down for a “weeding from a book of a pwophet Isaiah.”

Finally, it’s easy to recognize the active involvement required of parents taking small children to Mass. However, there is a deeper mystery going on that our attention to our sweet wiggle-worms points to: active participation in the sacrifice of the Mass. Mass is not a spectator sport, and we aren’t supposed to show up to be “Massed at.”

When the priest offers up the bread and wine which will become the Holy Eucharist, that’s an opportunity for each of us to offer up whatever is going on in our lives. The Catechism of the Catholic Church states:

The Church which is the Body of Christ participates in the offering of her Head…She unites herself to his intercession with the Father for all men. In the Eucharist the sacrifice of Christ becomes also the sacrifice of the members of his Body. The lives of the faithful, their praise, sufferings, prayer, and work, are united with those of Christ and with his total offering, and so acquire a new value. (1368)

The Eucharistic Prayer culminates when the priest raises the Eucharist and prays “Through Him, with Him, in Him, in the unity of the Holy Spirit all glory and honor are Yours, Almighty Father, forever and ever.” That’s the great moment! The Church (that’s you, bouncing the howling baby in the cry room!) joins with the priest in offering the perfect sacrifice of Jesus to the Father for the salvation of the world.

The next time you find yourself spending more time in the cry room than in your pew, offer it with Jesus. When your family arrives late and disheveled despite your best efforts, or the two-year-old throws himself screaming on the floor on the way up to receive Holy Communion, don’t panic. Take a deep breath and remind yourself that Jesus loves the little children. He wants them to be at Mass, and He sees and appreciates the sacrifices you make to take them. Coming to Mass as a family despite the effort is a beautiful gift to God, and is even now reaping more fruit than you know.

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Copyright 2026 Lea McCarthy
Images: Canva