If you are a parent who takes your child to Mass, you are heroic.
I was in Northern California at daily Mass with my godson and his foster parents (adoptive, we pray, by the end of the year) and goodness, the glares!
When a woman glares at a baby or toddler who is acting up at Mass, I always try to pause and realize there is so much pain that can have to do with that glare. Did she lose a child? Did she have an abortion? Did she have a fiancé leave her when she had cancer? There are so many possibilities that could make for trauma.
My sweet Noah, meanwhile, is a miracle child. That he is alive is a miracle. His birth mother did not know what she was doing when he wound up in an emergency room. He was near death then and yet now is as loved as a child can be.
Particularly in post-Roe v. Wade America, we need to remember that every cry has a story. Every cry is beloved by God the Father. And that cry takes courage from the mother and/or father who decided not only to go to Mass but to bring that child with them.
Going to Mass is a virtuous habit. It’s also a miracle. To be present when bread and wine become Our Lord Jesus Christ! To have a child present there as often as possible is the greatest gift you can give him. I’m sorry for the glares. You are giving him the greatest gift next to the forever family you have opened to him.
Please, never glare at a mother or father whose child is not behaving perfectly at Mass. It’s a miracle they are there. It might just be a miracle that the child is alive. We cannot say we are a people of the Gospel of Life if we glare at children at Mass.
I crave contemplation. If you do also, consider that desire in a mother or a father of a little one. It’s next to impossible to achieve. And then you glare and make her feel all the worse for interrupting your attempt at solitude.
Are we a people of life? If we are, we will boldly consider new ways to support families. We will not glare but support the foster families in our parishes. We will actually know who they are. We will be people of radical hospitality — something that the Beatitudes seemed to suggest we ought to live by. Pro-life isn’t simply a way to vote. It’s a way to look at another — including the smallest among us and their parents.
When Noah is in my arms, I want him to know that God knows and loves him. I want him to know that he is the greatest gift to his parents. I want him to know that everyone who is blessed to know him has been given the greatest joy — an encounter with the Christ Child himself.
I know there is pain. I can’t even imagine the depths that go into your glare. But my godson was almost dead, and now he is alive and such a joy. Rejoice in his joy. Don’t just put up with it. Realize his fussing is actually the miracle of life. It’s everything we say we are about. His parents are people of heroic virtue. They may think they are just going to daily Mass, but they are actually witnessing to the rest of us what is most important. Show your child God, and everything beautiful follows.
Think before your glare. There might just be a miracle before you. We must love the child and his parents — especially if we have no idea of the circumstances. They may have prayed what seemed like forever for a miracle. And now he is in their arms. We must all support them, love them and help them see how much God rejoices in their love for his child.
Every glare can be a gaze of love! The smallest things can be such gifts.
Kathryn Jean Lopez is a senior fellow at the National Review Institute and editor-at-large of National Review.
