When my children were young, even back-seat-in-my-rear-view-mirror young, I used to derive a certain covert and droll pleasure from talking to them about various theological topics or spiritual issues as if they were my colleagues. Partially out of a curiosity to see how much they could understand, partially to humor myself at their unknowing expense, I would be very intentional about not dummying down my language.

Other times, maybe when I was working on a talk or homily, I would ask them a question with which I was grappling: “What do you think it means to be a saint?” or once I remember saying, “The word gospel means good news. Tonight I’m going to ask people to tell each other about the good news that God is. But I’m going to tell them they can’t use any words. If you couldn’t use any words, how would you tell people about the good news that God is? What would you do?” to which my youngest son replied, “I’d give ‘em all kisses, because God loves to give kisses.” I said, “I like your theology.”

As they grew a bit older their responses oftentimes were not just cute but surprisingly insightful. And by the age of 12 they had asked pretty much all the really difficult existential and theological questions in their own way. Most of course, went unanswered, at least by me. Occasionally I’d get a response from “I’m not sure, what do you think?” At other times, understanding some but not all of what I was saying, they would unknowingly offer me an imaginative angle on something I was musing about.

More times than I can count, their responses made me laugh and left me with delight tickling my ribs for days. One such exchange happened because of a conversation I was having with my then teenage daughter regarding the revelation that Pope John Paul II practiced a form of self-mortification. Within earshot, my youngest son, who was six or seven, overheard me use the term self-flagellation. “Dad,” my son said, “I think you mean self-flatulation.”

When I could stop laughing I deadpanned, “No, that’s a punishment of others,” he none the wiser, but me delighted for days, even years.