Easter and Eggs

After a 6-month absence, and only sporadic attendance before that, we finally, tentatively, ventured back to church this morning.
Disillusioned as I often am with organised religion, and the dubious sense of "joy" on offer at most parish churches, I somehow couldn't quite face the idea of teaching BB that Easter is simply about chocolate.

So we picked a new church, shuffled in - a spoldge of noise and colour amongst the grey-haired regulars - and slunk into a pew within sneaking distance of the exit.
BB showed admirable interest in the larger-than-life candles, and fliched only slightly when the priest planted a hearty welcome kiss on his cheek.
But when the organ struck, things started to take the route they always do: dreary, joyless... fidgety.
BB began to giggle and wander; FH and I exchanged a tense look (his eyes read: "who thought this would be a good idea?"); a few disapproving tuts could be heard above the drone of prayer.
Christian goodness in all its tolerant splendour, yet again.

And then, we were saved.
A little boy, with angelic curls and an encouraging smile - a missionary sent to rescue us by a kind-hearted father - came to point us in the direction of the "children's corner".
A little playmat with books and a sprinkling of toys: a discreet corner near the back where restless children could play quietly, unjudged.

So we upped sticks and re-settled in the children's area (as, alas, we seem destined to do so much these days).
Here, fellow parents smiled and welcomed us: we could tune in and tune out at will, we were not simply a disturbance.

So what is the point of all this?
Well, this is something I asked myself as I kept half an eye on BB, half an eye on LB and half an ear on the priest's sermon (the rest of me was mulling over the "point", the "purpose", the "reason" we had even come at all).
And I think that the point is this: mass is for the most part pretty dull. If there's any spirituality there at all, you have to search for it. It's a hassle to drag two kids there, and juggle their attention spans and hunger and boredom.
But it's a pause. It's something other than buying, or packaging, or eating.
And although I'm not always sure myself what I believe, or why, or how... I need to transmit these beliefs to my kids in someway.
Even if it's only to show them: look, this is how we worship collectively. It's imperfect, and sometimes boring, but it's tradition, and it's an alternative. If we don't have this, we'll have nothing except rows and rows of chocolate eggs on supermarket shelves.
And the rest, the spirituality, the joy... well, stick with us and we'll figure it our for ourselves.

HAPPY EASTER!!