Bringing Elephants to Church

Herds of elephants are quieter. Between the stomping of boots to get the snow off, the nylon rustle of the winter coats, the not-so-whispered discussions, by the time we got our gear off and settled down in the pew, several sets of eyes had darted in our direction. I’m sure my fellow parishioners were just making sure they weren’t under attack, but to my mom-conscious mind, it sure felt like judgment was shooting at me.

Taking kids to church.

I’m nearly 100% sure the person who came up with the phrase “quiet enough to hear a pin drop” came up with that while sitting in a Catholic church. The reverence and the acoustics are impressive. And mortifying (to parents anyway).

Every rustle, every disproportionately loud elephant stomp of a tiny foot, every “whisper” feels amplified.

But that day’s Gospel reading was Mark 7: 1-13 and the priest’s homily ended with “Is it about looking good or being good?”

I’m taking my kids to church. Not to look good or to impress anyone (because gah we look anything but that!), but to develop good. It’s hard and can be ugly, but it can grow beauty.

The paraphernal required for our daily Mass excursion clutters the back seat of my car.

Churches are already filled with people more concerned about the optics of church going than they are the actual practice of church following. And I don’t want to teach my children that looks matter more than heart.

So if we’re a little louder than a reverent monk, if we’re not perfectly adorned and flawlessly coifed, if we’re not all sitting in rapt attention, so what? If the message is being absorbed and our actions and lives reflect it, that’s all that matters. No matter how it looks. Or sounds.