The Saints Have Feet: A Meditation Inspired by a Toddler's Tantrums

As a parent with three children age three and under, going to Mass on Sunday brings with it many challenges.  We have a tough time getting everyone dressed, finding their shoes, getting in the car and making it early enough to get a safe seat in the middle or back of the church, and thus almost always wind up in the front few rows.  Then when the liturgy begins, the challenges usually start multiplying.  My middle child's difficulties with refusing to sit in the pew in the last few months have really led to some beautiful reflections on the lives of the saints.  

My parish, like many these days in the US, was built in the 70s and comes equipped with a cry room.  However, there are only about 10 chairs, and most of them are taken up by people who ought to be sitting somewhere else.  For this and other reasons, we almost never sit in the cry room.  So when one of my daughters decides to throw a fit at Mass, I have to get creative.  

When my middle daughter began wanting to run out of the pew and throwing a fit when we brought her back, I began taking her to the back of the church to look at the stained glass windows and the small collection of statues.  Thankfully, this almost always calms her down.  My method is very simple.  We slowly walk up to each statue, and I tell her who the statue represents.  We look at the candle area, and if I have any change, we light one and say a prayer.  We also kneel before the Sacred Heart of Jesus and the Mary statue.  By far, though, most of our time is spent in front of the Therese of Lisieux statue.  For some reason, my daughter Chiara really loves the statue.  But not because of her face, the roses, or the habit she wears.  She likes her toes.  Probably because they're right at her eye level.  But we'll walk through, go get some holy water, and circle back and without fail she reaches for Therese's toes.  

Now, my daughter has no idea who St. Therese is, or really who any saint is.  She's two years old...and all she knows is some of their names.  But there’s something very profound about her fascination with the toes and feet of our local parish’s statuary.  I think many of us have a tendency to whitewash the saints, to make them seem as though their only existence was their saintly existence.  Of course, Therese never committed a mortal sin in her life, but that doesn’t mean she was perfect.  

Anyone who’s read her Story of a Soul knows she had many struggles, even if we might look at them as minor.  Some saints, like Augustine, lived a wild life before coming to Christ and beginning the transformation that led them to seek holiness rather than pleasure, and discipline rather than debauchery.  But even in a turnaround like Augustine, the progress to living the life of a Christian didn’t end merely when he stopped with his major sins.  In a real way, it was only just beginning.

When I see my daughter looking at and touching the feet of the Jesus statue or the feet of Mary, it really speaks volumes.  Jesus, though he was obviously no sinner, also had feet.  And he traveled on them, got them dirty, went places people wouldn’t have expected him to go, and visited with people he wouldn’t have been expected to visit.  Mary traveled many miles on her feet to bear Jesus, to find him, and to follow him to his death on the Cross.  Jesus told the apostles, too, that they would occasionally have to shake the dust from their feet.  

I suppose my point is that we have to remember not to de-humanize the saints via statues and other artwork.  In fact, the very purpose of those statues is to give us some visible sign to remind us of the real person who has now passed on, not in a way that lessens their humanity or realness, but fulfills it, and shows its true aim. The saints are in heaven now not in spite of their journey on earth through the mud, but because they undertook that very real and normal journey, and kept their eye fixed on Christ.  In the end, they let Him be the one to clean them up, and by cooperating with His will and plans.