“A person’s a person, no matter how small.”   — Dr. Seuss

The church I presently attend is small, and completely different from the last. It is neither the numbers (about the same) nor the theology, vastly divergent, though, that is the distinguishing factor, but the presence of children in the congregation. While the previous church comprised mostly of retirees and near-retirees (and there is nothing wrong with that, for I am one myself), the new parish abounds in children. In the former church they were conspicuous by their absence.

We have children of all ages, of diverse ethnic and linguistic origins – but each of them, a homily in himself or herself. The lessons they have taught me about curiosity, a new perspective, fun, laughter, and most of all love – unconditional love. When a child needs a hug or wants to be carried, there is no hesitation. There is no doubting that the request would be turned down. I think children see commonalities – not superficial differences. And they do not need a language to convey their affection. A tight hug tells a million words without uttering even one, let alone three.

But when they speak, they say the most memorable things. While chatting with two five-year-olds who considered running with an elephant on one’s head an apt description of a difficult task, I suggested that there might be more enormous tasks than that in life, and we ended up with running with an elephant on one’s head and a hippopotamus tucked under one arm. How we laughed!

Once, after communion a young lad came up to me and hugged me tight around my waist. When I bent down to ask if everything was all right, he looked up and said with disarming simplicity, “I wish you were part of our family.” No barriers at all that we adults see, like his father and mother, or other complexities. Those words will remain etched in my heart forever. There was nothing I could say, except hug him close.

Or the five-year-old who does not allow me to set her on the ground, no, not for one minute, during the liturgy. O, the funny things she can say and the funny faces she can make!

During this lockdown, here I am, stuck on the other side of the world, missing the church and the children. In the same boat as Charles Lamb, who wrote the essay, ‘Dream Children,’ I long for the day I can be with them again.

All I have been seeing on television for weeks now is fear – fear incarnate. And now it is burning hate, added on. It is numbing and heartbreaking. Vitriol and platitudes, a strange combination. All the modern jargon that so-called peacebuilders spew on the Internet will not bring peace. Will not eradicate racism. Will not remove hate from our hearts.

I pray with tears that no child will face the fate of George Floyd. And also, that no child will play the role of Derek Chauvin who knelt on the neck of Floyd. Or, that none of them will stand by, like the three other police officers did, when they see a crime being committed.

A land without hate, racism, and violence would be heaven. But unless we turn and become like children, we will never reach that heaven.