My Son, the Homilist

We were ten minutes early for Mass this morning.  I said hello to the priest on our way in, and he said, "Happy Mother's Day, Jamie!  What a beautiful family you have."  Things have been going much better for us at Mass since I wrote this post; in fact, when Danielle posted recently about kids' behavior in church I just skimmed through the comments thinking, "Wow, I'm glad to be in an easier stage."

[cue rueful laughter]

The deacon preached this morning.  He's a stiff and formal guy, usually, but he invited all the kids to come and sit on the steps so he could talk directly to them.  My three big guys sat front and center, with Joe, who is almost four, right next to the deacon.

Joe is the most sociable of my four children and he was pleased to see that this homily was going to be a conversation and not a monologue.  "Do you know my name?" he asked the deacon.  "No, I don't know your name," said the deacon.  He plunged into the story of St. Isidore.

Now Joe is not a kid who likes to have the subject changed on him, and so he redirected the conversation.  "My name is Joe Gladly," he explained.  The deacon nodded.  "Gladly," he said into the microphone.  "St. Isidore lived near Madrid..."  "And when I grow up," Joe interrupted, "I want to be a policeman."

Joe's mouth and the deacon's mouth were roughly equidistant from the deacon's body mike, which meant that snippets of Joe's comments were amplified and projected through the PA system.  Little titters began sweeping through the congregation.

The rule in our house is that everybody dresses up for Mass, but we're not rigid about it.  Joe was playing outside in a King Kong T-shirt and sweats, and we decided that just for today we'd scoop him up and put him in the van instead of going in to change him into church clothes.  He stood up proudly next to the deacon and held his T-shirt by the shoulders.  "Do you know who King Kong is?"  "Yes," the deacon replied shortly into his microphone, "I know who King Kong is."  Big laugh from the congregation.  Big problem -- Joe loves to make people laugh.  The deacon was plowing ahead with his story of the saintly farmer, while Joe sang beside him, "He's a big gorilla and he lives in the jungle in the jungle in the jungle."  "In the jungle," echoed the deacon.

Mercifully, Joe was quiet for a minute while the deacon asked the kids to list the sacraments.  But not for long.  "And how can we talk to God?" was the next question.  "By praying!" answered a meek and quiet girl nearby.  Joe leaped to his feet.  "Hey!" he burst out. "I know about that!"  "Tell us about praying," the deacon encouraged him.

"Preying is when one dinosaur eats another dinosaur!" he exclaimed into the microphone.

...And it went downhill from there.  The nadir was Joe dancing and singing, "Stinkhead, stinkhead" -- I am writhing at the memory.  I was leaning into the aisle, pressing one finger to my lips and beckoning to him with my other hand.  He wasn't looking.

The deacon asked the kids to stand and extend their hands in blessing to their mothers.  "Even though some mothers might be embarrassed," he said, his smile no longer merely stiff but approaching rictus territory.  At this I felt myself shriveling like a slug under a cascade of salt, too mortified to pay attention to the prayer.  "Amen," ended the deacon.  "A-stink," a familiar voice added.

During the early part of this I wasn't too worried.  If you invite kid participation in your homily, you may get more than you bargained for.  Soon, though, I began praying for divine intervention.  Recently I read about a pastor who prayed for angels to quiet noisy children during Mass.  It never failed, he said.  I have to say it was not an effective strategy for me today, but maybe I shouldn't have been praying for an angel with a heavenly burlap sack and some celestial baling twine.  I asked God, too, that someday I might hear Joe tell this story from the altar as a priest -- "You know, the first time I was part of a homily I was only three years old...."  From where I'm sitting, though, that sounds like a pretty ambitious prayer.

It's been a long time since the best prayer I could think of in Mass was that I might grow in humility, but that's where I found myself today.  There's a reason humility and humiliate have the same root, I reminded myself.  I can't really think of today's preaching as a homily now -- in my head I keep calling it a humily instead.

But maybe one small good thing can come from it.  My friend whose mother died last November has been on my mind today -- I am hoping this Mother's Day has been peaceful for her.  I have resolved that every time I am tempted to wince at the memory of Joe chanting "stinkhead!" I will pray for her instead, remembering that it is a gift to be here with my children even when I wish momentarily to be far away instead.  Will you say a quick prayer for her too?

Here's a picture of my boys and me from my niece's baptism last month.  Happy Mother's Day, everybody.

Comments

[frectis]

LOL Jamie-- Our parish has a wonderful sculpture of Jesus on the cross and following Easter it is draped in white cloth. At a very quiet point during Mass our first year there my son (then 5) asked loudly, "Mom, why is Jesus all wrapped up in toilet paper?" Giggles abound...

Happy Mother's Day!

[mary]

Oh man, that is too funny. Just think, though, how nice your family made Mother's Day for the other moms at church, thanking God it wasn't their little boy chanting "stinkhead". :)

Your boys (and you) are super-cute. Thanks for the picture!

[Tracy]

"Preying is when one dinosaur eats another dinosaur!"

I about lost it here. (snicker). He's right, of course. What an intelligent little boy to know what prEying is.

Thanks for the morning laughter - though I'm quite certain you weren't laughing yesterday during mass (much).

Love love love the picture, though I have to say who is that tall boy next to you? wow. It's scary how they grow so quickly sometimes.

Happy Mother's Day to you too.

[Ariella]

Happy Mother's Day, Jamie. That is a lovely picture, and I am so glad you had a good (if amusing) day. Just remember that many years from now, that story will STILL incite howls of laughter from your entire family and you will be able to tease Joe about it mercilessly.

[Amie]

Love the picture!

Your story cracked me up!

[Jody]

Beautiful family, all of you

Wilder has hijacked a few children's messages in the past few months, but I don't think any of our ministers would be foolish enough to expect the kids to last up front for more than a few minutes. It's too bad that you had to writhe for the deacon's error.

You really will laugh without a twinge about this someday. Right?

[AmyinMotown]

Oh Jamie, what a beautiful family. And really, I was laughing to the point of tears and probably would have had I witnessed the scene. As for me, I was swooping after my little toddler most of Mass yesterday--she'd look down the long, clear aisle and try to make a break for it. The (female) ushers, who luckily have known us since before we were married and love Maggie, were cracking up.

[bearing]

ooooohhhh.... trying not to wet pants....

[Sandy]

Oh, please tell me that some of that was made up or exaggerated!!! That is the *funniest* story I have heard in quite some while.

Thanks!

[Jamie]

It is not made up and not exaggerated. In fact, I left out some parts -- the part about Joe lying on his back waving his feet in the air, the part where he said, "No, that's a silly story," in response to the deacon's rhetorical "Isn't that a nice story about St. Isidore?" I'm sure there's more but the memory is already fading. Thankfully.

[Kris]

What a great story. And such a beautiful family! Thanks for sharing. :)

[Lisa C.]

Oh my gosh, Jamie, I AM DYING. I'm at work and my seat mate is casting curious glances in my direction as I try to contain myself.

The best part is where you print out this post to read at his wedding. Then he can feel the embarrassment, too!

[Arwen]

I laughed out loud. Several times.

Happy Mother's Day!

[Sarah]

That's great! And I'm glad the Man-Cub is too little to go up front for "children's time". But my day is coming, to be sure.

I'm glad you had a good Mother's day.

[blestwithsons]

During the Easter program at my brother's church, my nephew looked at the man playing Jesus on the cross, who was in the requisite loin cloth, and asked "Why is that man naked?" He then sat there chanting gleefully, "Naked Man! Naked Man! Naked Man!" I only wish I had been there... And for yours too, Jamie! You would have had to stifle me with an altar cloth!

[Louise]

Wow- that is the funniest thing I have heard all week!
You should send to Reader's Digest ;-)

[Moxie]

I think any seminary worth the name would want to pay Joe to come in and do his act for the students so they'd learn how to deal effectively with hecklers during the homily.

A few months ago, when the text was the paralyzed man's friends lowering him through the roof to see Jesus, our female pastor (a mother of boys herself) talked about how we should all be like those men. And that bringing your children to church was like that. here's the line:

"Most of us bring ourselves to church; we don’t depend on someone else to do that for us. But it was not always the case, was it? When you were a child, didn’t your parents bring you? Perhaps it was a grandparent or a godparent; still someone else took you by the hand and brought you to Christ. It wasn’t always easy! Children are not always welcomed in church because they are noisy and restless. They have a hard time sitting still for so long. But I believe that the parents who faithfully bring them are like these four men bearing their paralyzed friend to Jesus so that he may touch him with his compassion."

The whole sermon is here:
http://www.saintpeters.org/sermon.htm#_Toc135485886

Our senior pastor (a father of boys) has made it very clear on many occasions that the congregation is to welcome the noise of children. And I've been thinking of the struggle I go through to bring my two hooligans to church every week by myself as my offering to God. But this sermon comparing me to the four friends has stayed with me for months and helped sustain me when *both* of my kids are talking along with the sermon from across the room or singing loudly along with the guest soloist.

Your Joe is wonderful, and maybe he'll find a career that combines his love of dinosaurs and his public speaking skills.

Happy Mothers' Day.

[mandamum]

Thank you Jamie--my 3yo girl is having lots of Mass issues recently...well, it's never been easy, but as she gets bigger she doesn't get quieter. Plus, she adds little audible, intelligible twiddles to her sounds--like your "A-stink!" And "No, that's a silly story". I'm so glad to hear another mom, someone whose parenting I respect a great deal from afar :) describing similar issues. Thank you!! I'm sorry you have to deal with it, but it makes my load easier. Any suggestions for how to make it better? What seemed to be working? You said things seemed to have calmed down a bit....

--Amanda

[JaneC]

My mother occasionally reminds me that when I was two, I loudly announced to the whole congregation that "I can spell God! D-O-G!" I wasn't dislexic, just a little confused, and apparently enthusiastic about spelling.

A few weeks ago, I spent most of the homily playing peek-a-boo with the baby in the pew in front of us, which was sadly much more interesting than the homily. Her mother apologized when she realized that the baby was being distracting, but in that case it wasn't a crime to be distractingly cute.