A Mother’s Silent Sermon

Today, I was sitting in the adoration chapel when a mother and her little kid walked in. The child couldn’t have been more than four years old. As soon as the mother knelt to pray, he copied her, got down on his knees and everything. After a while, when she sat on the small chair, he sat right next to her on the floor.

In between, I saw him peeking at his mom, checking if her eyes were open. And when she picked up the Bible to read, he grabbed a prayer book and flipped through the pages, just like her.

Before leaving, the mother walked up to the adoration glass and gently touched it, and this little one followed. But before stepping out, he kissed the glass where the Eucharist was kept and softly said, "Yeshupappa, I love you... potte, bye."

I had tears in my eyes. Here we are, struggling in faith every day, while this child believed without even knowing anything. Sherikum, maybe this is why Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me." That mother is the real hero—teaching him faith, not through big explanations but by living it. He may not fully understand who God is, but through her, he experiences Him. These days, we’re more focused on sending kids to tuition and other things on Sundays, but do they really know God?

Can people believe in God by looking at our faith, or are they moving away because of us?

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