Honk for Jesus

We've been taking Jack to Mass lately; today marks the second week in a row, AND the first time Jack has sat through an entire church service without either of us having to take him in the hallway to avoid complete meltdown. We attend a children's mass at St. Ignatius near Boston College. Like any good children's Mass, the kids are free to squirm, walk around, cry, talk, and be completely unaware of the volume of their voices without uptight adults turning around and shooshing them. (wish they had children's flights like this).

Apparently, Jack enjoys church- from the getting ready to the last hymn. First of all, he was pumped this morning when we asked him if he wanted to put on his 'nice brown shoes' and go sit in the chair at church next to mom and dad and see the kids. (In addition to his indistinct "uh" yes sound, he put his head way back, held it there for a second, then brought if forward very dramatically as if to say, YYYEEEEESSSS instead of a mere simple nod). Last week, he couldn't get enough of sitting in the chair like a big kid. When we settled in for Mass this morning, we stood, like good Catholics (or good wives of Catholics0 to sing the opening hym. Jack let us know in no uncertain (or quiet) terms that we should be sitting "DOWN." But, then Jack enjoyed the singing, and after that hymn, and all others, clapped loudly. The highlight for me came when Jack realized he could grab his own nose, like he grabs ours, and like us, exclaimed a clear "honk," chuckling at the fact that he didn't need our noses anymore to 'honk.' Ed & I both couldn't help but giggle when Jack turned around and explained to the girl behind us that he had a "BALL" that he was going to throw- and indeed, he did "throw" an imaginary ball, quite hard. Show off.

Of course, Jack wasn't the main entertainment. The gospel reading was the one where Jesus gets fired up at everyone for using the temple as a market place- you know the one where the son of God flips over tables in a crazed rage - I imagine that scene in "When a Man Loves A Woman" when Andy Garcia loses it in the living room and flips over the coffee table. Anyway, the priest thought he would focus in on how God is trying to get our attention- he asked the congregation what they would do if they were in the kitchen and the stove caught on fire. Expecting (a verb one should never engage when dealing with kids) the answer something along the lines of, "I'd yell for mom," a second grader exclaimed for everyone to clearly hear: "STOP, DROP, & ROLL." Heaven forbid (!) we have to be set on fire to get our attention. At the end of Mass, one of the announcers let us know we could hang our "lent sarifice" on one of the trees near the altar. She read some of the sacrifices hung by other kids. Among them, "eat my broccoli- God, help me." I should probably borrow that one.

Today also marked the first time that our little threesome went to the altar together to receive communion. Technically, I'm not supposed to engage in the sacrament because I wasn't babtized Catholic- and usually I don't because I get so angry that some MAN thinks they can get in the way of me and God because of some man-written doctrine written a gazillion years ago. Of course, the fact that I like Mass for its traditional liturgy only makes it all that much more complicated. But, every now and then, I let go and let God and somehow am open to receive communion no matter what church I am in. Besides, Jack's entertaining didn't really give me the time to stew over whether or not I was invited to the table or not and maybe that's how all church should be: a family outing, a little light laughter, some serious attention-getting, and the experience of a genuine sacrament despite humanities innate flaws.