The Hidden Holiness of Parenthood
Do you ever feel like being a parent isn’t “holy”? Some days I’m left feeling the monotony of parenthood. Other days I’m left feeling inadequate. Still, some days I feel as though I failed my children, whether it’s because I lost my temper again or spent too much time looking at my phone. Raise your hand if you can relate.
When I was discerning back in college (and for several years after), I couldn’t shake the idea that being a religious sister was the holier option. Religious sisters get time built into their schedule every single day for mass, prayer, silence, and yet still more prayer and time to be with Jesus. They can focus their entire energy on these heavenly things, undistracted by the troubles of the word. And this is the stuff of holiness, right? This was my perception.
Then, last year, the Holy Spirit inspired something in my heart. He showed me the hidden holiness of parenthood. Now, I know I’m not the first person to come up with this, but this idea to me was so new, so refreshing. I know even I had heard it before, but until the Holy Spirit opened up the scriptures to me in this new and personal way, it was like I was actually hearing it for the first time.
What’s the key to discovering the hidden holiness of parenthood? Easy. Matthew 25:31-40.
Matthew 25:31-40
31 “When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on the throne of his glory. 32 All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats, 33 and he will put the sheep at his right hand and the goats at the left.
34 Then the king will say to those at his right hand, ‘Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; 35 for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, 36 I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.’
37 Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? 38 And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? 39 And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?’ 40 And the king will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.’
New Revised Standard Version
What’s the big deal?
How does this make parenthood holy? Let me explain.
When I gave birth to my babies, within the first few minutes, several things happened. These tiny, naked babies were placed upon my chest. I welcomed them joyfully with hugs and kisses, bewildered at this beautiful gift of life. Amazed that my body could grow something so intricate and beautiful, and form those chubby little cheeks so perfectly. These babies nursed for the first time at my breast. After that, they were cleaned off, diapered, dressed in a little onesie, and placed back in my arms, cozy and warm.
So now, a couple hours into my existence made new by these tiny humans, I had already given food and drink to these hungry and thirsty babes, welcomed these strangers, and clothed their nakedness. And Jesus whispered ever so silently, “Whatever you did for the least of these… you did also for me.”
Those first hours were just the beginning. Day in, day out, these tiny humans must still be given food and drink, dressed, changed, bathed, welcomed, tended to in sickness, cared for in the prison of their own dependency. And then they grow and thrive and flourish. Yet they must still be fed, dressed, tended to, cared for, loved day in and day out. And Jesus keeps whispering ever so silently, “Whatever you did for the least of these… you did also for me.”
Could it be so simple?
Yes. I think it is so simple (I didn’t say easy though). In caring for another, we care for Jesus himself. In caring for another, we put ourselves aside. We care for these poor, helpless babies in their total and utter dependence. They are so helpless they aren’t even able to speak their needs, they must cry out to us, their parents, to provide for them. It is in these tiny beggars that we are reminded of our own dependence on another. And it is in this dependence upon another that we are held in the arms of Heaven.
No, I don’t pray as often or as well as I feel like I did before I was married and had children. I don’t fast like I used to. I don’t do meatless Fridays year round. Nor do I make it to daily mass anymore. But I can tell you this much. I serve Jesus in my children all day, every day, though some days I wish I did a better job. But ultimately, he has given us within this beautiful sacrament of marriage, a path straight to him, a hidden holiness of parenthood, and for that I am ever so grateful. And I know that when I do have a moment to silent my heart and draw near to him, I can hear those words whispering ever so silently, “Whatever you did for the least of these… you did also for me.”
For Prayer and Reflection
- Read this passage. Pray with it. Let it sink in, renew your heart, and show you just how infinitely important this vocation, this hidden holiness of parenthood truly is.
- Try doing some Lectio Divina or Ignatian Prayer with this passage.
- Consider the areas in which you struggle with parenthood. Where do feelings of inadequacy come from? Where do you struggle to feel growth in holiness? Take these things to Jesus. Let him speak truth into your heart and your situation.
Like what you read?
Get e-mail reminders in your inbox so you won’t miss anything! I usually post around two times per month, depending on what life throws at me.