Over the years, America has published several articles about the joys and challenges of bringing young children to Mass. In a popular essay from 2014, the late Brian Doyle describes one priest’s memorable response to the presence of rambunctious kids in the pews:

Sometimes people complain and make veiled remarks about behavior and discipline and decorum and the rapid dissolution of morals today and stuff like that but I have no patience for it. For one thing they were little kids at Mass once, and for another if there are no little kids at Mass, pretty soon there won’t be any Masses. You have to let kids be kids.

More recently, Katie Prejean McGrady wrote about bringing her daughter to a chapel for eucharistic adoration—and being made to feel less than welcome:

I have never felt so small, insignificant or unwelcomed in my life than in that single moment after I showed my child Jesus in the monstrance for the first time and was met with a harsh tone, disapproving words and a cold stare from a fellow Catholic.

She insists that we should welcome the noise of children: “A silent church is a dead church because life makes joyful noise.”

Articles like these invariably illicit responses from readers who have had experiences of feeling welcomed—or not—at Mass with their young children. Below is a selection of comments from over the years, posted on Facebook and America’s website. They have been edited for length and clarity.

Are All Welcome?

I think we are wrong to blame kids for their behavior or blame parents for the poor behavior of their kids. Congratulations to all parents for bringing their kids to Mass. My son once started crying during a priest’s homily. As I fumbled around for a pacifier, unbeknownst to me the priest had stopped talking and was looking right at me. Once my son stopped crying I look up and the priest says out loud for everyone to hear, “Can I continue?” I never returned to that church and have always felt very sorry for the people who go there.

We found a church that purposely had no crying room, where the kids are invited to the altar at every Mass, where crying is tolerated and ignored. The pews are filled with families. Some with kids with snacks, books, toys, even video games. I personally wanted my kids to learn to sit through Mass without any such crutch, but I certainly don’t think ill of the parents who allow it. Guess what? They are at Mass every week! Eventually, those kids grow up, put away their toys and snacks and still come every week! That is what tolerance and a welcoming parish is. — Anna Cepeda

Once my son stopped crying I look up and the priest says out loud for everyone to hear, “Can I continue?” I never returned to that church.

As a mom to 5- and 3-year-old boys and a 1-year-old girl, I have found that you need to find the right church for your family. We moved about two years ago and started going to our new local church. After a year, it was not working out, we did not feel welcome at all. We switched back to our old church, which is now half an hour away, and it has been a worthwhile experience. I lament that my kids won’t see their local friends from school at church or religious education, but the Salesian “All Are Welcome” theme of our parish makes the small sacrifice worth it.

I try to go through Mass in the pews and without food or toys as well, and I know my kids aren’t taking in much. But they are taking in some of it. I can see it in those fleeting moments when one of my boys will kneel and put his hands together, even if it only lasts three seconds. But going to Mass with three small children is always a great sacrifice. As parents, we try so hard to make our children behave or at least not disturb the others around us, and no matter the effort, someone is usually disturbed. Our priest reminds the parishioners that our commitment to being pro-life extends beyond the nine months in the womb and includes the rambunctious phases of toddlerhood. As baptized Christians, it is my children’s right and my responsibility to ensure they are at Mass, even when it is inconvenient to us and others. — Kristina Adams

Our priest reminds the parishioners that our commitment to being pro-life includes the rambunctious phases of toddlerhood.

I was once asked by the priest to not return to weekday Mass if I brought my 2-year-old, who was sitting quietly beside me. I quickly found another parish. — Millie Richardson

Invisible Disabilities

It is very hard for my 12-and-a-half-year-old with autism to sit still, especially on hard wooden pews. Often he will curl into my lap. We get many stares and severe looks because my son “looks” normal. But I get those hugs [from him] and the knowledge that they were heaven sent. — Sharon Valente

It would be nice if everyone remembered that not all disabilities can be detected with the naked eye.

As a mother of five children, four of whom have A.D.H.D. and two of whom also have an autism spectrum disorder, I am grateful to hear [Brian Doyle’s] welcoming attitude. I know I was a squirmy, talkative young child and more than once had to be spoken to (or got that little pinch) in attempts to quiet me. On one occasion, an older parishioner made some comment to my parents about my behavior. My father never returned to church.

I always make an attempt to help other parents or give them a welcoming look as they try to wrangle their little ones. My youngest are 7-year-old twins, and we continue to work on improving their behavior as they prepare for first holy Communion. It would be nice if everyone remembered that not all disabilities can be detected with the naked eye. If everyone would give others the benefit of the doubt, that people do the best they can, we would all get along so much better! — Kathy Vines

‘Let the Children Come’

I have seven children and have always taken my children to adoration. In fact, at our old parish, my five children and I committed to one hour each week in adoration in a chapel. We had some meltdowns and noise, but every week our hour ended at 3 p.m. and we prayed the Chaplet of Divine Mercy. In fact, the elderly woman who arrived after us would come early and hold the baby and talk to the younger children about Jesus’ presence. She ended up making dolls for my young girls. When she died we stayed an extra hour until someone else was found to cover for her. — Kristen Ciaccia

One Sunday, I saw a 2-year-old girl make the sign of the cross. I knew God was with her! — Kathleen Spears Hopkins

Watching my 3-year-old granddaughter dance with our wonderful teen band is always a special time for me. She has not yet learned the words to these songs, but she feels the beauty in them. — Gene Chabot

I am not a parent, but I get a kick out of seeing little toddlers and young kiddos try to shake everyone’s hand during the Exchange of Peace. What better way is there to introduce kids to the love of a Christian community and to encourage them to be an important part of it? — Adria Gallup-Black

I have seven children and have always taken my children to adoration. A child’s voice is a reminder that God hasn’t given up on us yet. Maybe that “noise” can be a reminder and help us reflect on God’s goodness. — Kristen Ciaccia