Crying children call to mind the mystery of the Mass
A priest friend of mine posted a link to this earlier this week. I enjoyed it when I read it. I thought it was a great insight, especially since I recall attending Mass when our kids were infants at a Church without a "baby ghetto" and feeling those looks, stares, and unwelcoming glances. It actually drove my wife and I away from the Church for several years. I have since resolved to NEVER be so uncharitable or unloving to anyone that is actually making an effort to spend time with God at the Mass or in His House.
But... it wasn't until last night that I realized just how amazing this perspective is.
I attended our parish Holy Week reconciliation service last night and after making my confession returned to the pews to pray my penance as well as spend some time meditating on Christ's amazing gift to us that we recall this week. While I was meditating on His Passion a baby began to wail at the back of the Church. My meditation, which had been dry, formal, forumulaic, and ordinary instantly ignited into a well of emotions. I heard the baby's cries and instantly I was at the foot of the Cross with Mary, Mary Magdalene and John the Apostle, hearing their sobs, cries and wails. I instantly felt the sorrow, grief, and agony of losing a child, a friend, and knowing that I was an accomplice in that painful, tragic death.
Oh, what a gift. What a beautiful way God has given us to unite ourselves with the true mysteries of our faith. Sadly, I could hear that the parent got up and removed the crying child from the Church. How much I owe to that baby's reminder that our joy, our hope, our salvation is so tightly wound up with sorrow, suffering, and tragedy.
Up to now, by thoughts at a crying baby have been charitable or tolerance offered up as sacrifice. Never again will I have to think in those terms. I welcome those cries. The not-so-subtle reminder that our Lord's sacrifice wasn't some clean, storybook event for use to celebrate. It is tragic sorrow and suffering that gives birth to our joy and hope and without the sorrow and suffering, it is hollow.
