Raymond Grieshaber

The Perfect Praise of Crying Babes

We recently had the joy of welcoming the relatives of seminarians during Mundelein’s “Family Day Weekend.” Normally a weekend on campus would involve catching up on some reading, visiting the parish, or enjoying the beauty of the surrounding forestry. But on this weekend, there were present brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers, and maybe most enjoyably, babies. Attending Mass in the main chapel brought particular attention to these masterful architects of wail. Red-faced and puffy-cheeked, they brought a booming irregularity to the conventional participation of seminary worship. Though sometimes considered a nuisance, I could only recall the words of Jesus in the Gospel of Matthew, “Have you never read, ‘Out of the mouth of babes and infants thou hast brought perfect praise’?”

As I listened to parts of the homily, my mind also wandered to these words of the Lord. While they are often identified as referring to innocence and simplicity, I could not help thinking of how the baby was not simply tearful in an “abstract vacuum,” but the child was crying out to someone. There was a desire for attention, love, and comfort from another, since there could be no consolation sought in isolation with oneself. This seeking to receive love from outside of oneself is a fundamental, necessary law in every spiritual life.

We cannot produce love entirely on our own. Just as the body must receive hydration from that which is distinct from itself, so also the soul must receive love from another. Even in occasions of showing love for oneself, there is still the need to receive the ability, the power to love from another. God, whose very essence is love, goodness, and wisdom itself, always provides us with the love that we seek. There is never a moment when God fails to love us, console us, and provide for us, for our Father truly knows what we need before we ask him (Mt 6:8). Even if we forget him, God is always thinking of us, waiting for us to turn to him to receive the eternal, infinite love for which we long.

Here we have a lesson we can learn from little babies. Even in the weakness of the human mind, I think loving mothers and fathers have a constant awareness of the reality of their children, at a minimum indirectly. And children realize that this love is available, ready to be poured into their souls for their benefit and happiness. The reciprocal love shared between parent and child then brings a mutual uplifting and deeper bond, reinforcing the reality of our relational nature and dependence on each other. So when we hear another howl that distracts from a homily, we can recall that the little one is seeking another, and the other that each of us seeks is always just a momentary cry away.