Silence, adoration, prayer:
A lesson for and from a class of
9-year-olds learning the catechism
Translated from
November 18, 2017
Today, Santa Subito
[Valli’s affectionate nickname for his wife Serena] told me about a beautiful experience with the children she is teaching their second year of catechism. There are 13 of them, all aged 9. The lesson for the day was ‘The call from God’ – first in the Old Testament and then in the New.
After they had gone through the story of Abraham, they came to Moses: his origins, ihis life his problems with stuttering, the episode when he killed a guard who had beaten up a slave.
And then, Moses is called by God who manifests himself as a Burning Bush. Moses approaches, prompted first of all by wonder and curiosity. The bush was burning mysteriously, and he wanted to understand why. God presents himself, explains that he is the God of Isaac and of Jacob, and Moses, who feels inadequate, becomes afraid and covers his face with his hands.
My wife explained to the children that the story has to do with us, in that it shows that
God, when manifesting himself, can choose someone who is anything but exemplary, a man with many known defects, who was responsible for a homicide, who has speech problems, and having been raised by Egyptians, knew nothing about the God of his people. Then there was the pharaoh who had it in for the Jews living in Egypt and persecuted them.
And what did God ask of Moses? To take off his sandals because he was on sacred ground.
My wife the catechist showed the children why. She took them to the chapel, where a carpet was laid down in front of the tabernacle. Upon which visitors are expected to take off their shoes which, she explained to them, represents one’s sense of security. Visitors to the tabernacle, which houses Jesus in the Eucharist, are also asked to observe absolute silence and dignified behavior – no hands in the pocket, no gum chewing, no joking around.
To her surprise, her wards, who in general, are hard put to keep quiet and to respect rules, appeared to understand right away that this was a special occasion, that they had entered into a space and time that are not what is usual for them, and they did exactly as their catechist asked them to do.
She had explained to them how Moses, in his relationship with God, developed a familiarity with him. That we can all talk to God because he is not someone remote and inscrutable, but he is our Father. When do we talk to God, she aske?. “When we pray,” a boy answered. Bravo!
She had taught them four simple prayers: "My God, help me to hear you, help me to follow you; help me to understand; help me grow up, knowing you better."
Each of the 13 had chosen what to pray at this time, and now, in the chapel, before the tabernacle, kneeling on the carpet with their shoes off, it was time to address the Lord. To the left of the altar was the sanctuary lamp
[the red lamp present in most churches to indicate the presence of the Eucharist in the tabernacle] – which means that Jesus is present, listening to us, welcoming us.
The children before proceeding to the chapel had left behind everything in the classroom - their backbacks, the notebook recording their progress in the catechism class, their coats – because to go to visit Jesus, they needed nothing, and nothing ought to distract them.
The other surprise was that in going from the classroom to the chapel, the children were their usual rowdy selves, but once in the chapel, and seeing the groups that had preceded them for the Eucharistic visit, their behavior changed. When it was their turn, they took off their shoes, knelt on the carpet before the tabernacle, and remained silent and focused. Each of them murmured his prayer, without disturbing the others.
They seemed to understand that they were living an extraordinary moment, unlike their routine activities, and that space and time for God requires an attitude and behavior that cannot be what is usual for them. And so they murmured their prayers, “My God, help me…”
There was yet another surprise One of the children started to cry. Why, he was asked, and he answered: “I am fine, don’t worry. I am not sad. I am very moved,” he explained with candor.
But weren’t these the same children who are usually quite noisy, who find it hard to concentrate on anything, who get easily distracted? Yes. No one has replaced them. But they appear to have understood very well that space and time for the divine is something else, and that one needs a special attitude for prayer and adoration. They understood quite well why they were asked to take off their shoes, why the silence, why the kneeling, and that they were to address God directly with their own personal prayer, said quietly but
very powerfully because the prayer comes from the heart.
“I really did not expect it,” says Santa Subito, “that we would have such a result. I thought that it would be difficult for them to stay silent, and that they would find something to joke about regarding their personal prayer. Instead, they showed that children do have a natural predisposition towards the sacred, towards talking to God, towards adoration of the Lord”.
There’s a lesson in all this, surely!
[I would have been happier if the short prayers taught to the children also included expressing thanks to the Lord for the good things he has given them – their family, their friends, life and love, especially His love. Too much to expect, perhaps, but at nine years of age, they would be ready also to be taught to say, “And forgive me, my God, for offending you by my sins”, so that prayer is not just seen as a plea for help.]