This is an archived article that was published on sltrib.com in 2015, and information in the article may be outdated. It is provided only for personal research purposes and may not be reprinted.

I went to Catholic Mass last Sunday. St. John the Baptist in Draper was packed. Since the purpose of the Mass was to bless public safety personnel, a big part of the congregation consisted of cops and firefighters.

There were still plenty of Catholics, though. It was interesting to worship with them. I learned something that connects religious communities more deeply than a shared belief in the hereafter.

It's our children. Kids. Toddlers. Pew monkeys. Worship weasels. Yeah, it turns out Catholic children are kids first and Catholics second, just like they are in every other church.

The best past example of this is the time in my LDS ward when 3-year-old Ronnie Johnson stripped down to just his shoes and went for a stroll buck naked in sacrament meeting.

On Sunday, the Rev. Denis Reilly was celebrating Mass. It was a solemn event. I was thinking reverent thoughts — or as close as a guy like me ever gets to thinking them — when a small child started acting up somewhere in the pews behind me.

At first it was the usual chapel tantrum, a brief squall of annoyance or outrage over something petty. It didn't bother me. At least 25 percent of the average LDS sacrament meeting is dedicated to such kid fits.

At St. John's, the shouting echoed through the otherwise quiet chapel. Some kid was really upset. And it was getting worse. I wondered how Catholics would handle it.

Suddenly, a Hot Wheels car came whipping through the air and clattered up the aisle.

Father Reilly must be a true minister of the gospel because he didn't even blink as the toy came to rest at the foot of the podium. He stayed right on task, doling out the Word and blessings.

Some people may have been shocked by a Hot Wheels car flying through the air in church. I didn't turn around to see if they were. I was too busy feeling right at home, thinking, "Wow, just like Mormons."

But it isn't just Mormons and Catholics. Last week, I attended Jumu'ah (Muslim Friday prayers) at Khadeeja Islamic Center in West Valley City. My friend Mohammad invited me. It wasn't what I expected. It was even better.

Frankly, I expected to see what I've already seen about Islamic prayers on TV — lots of Muslim men and boys bowing and prostrating in unison toward Mecca, all of them speaking a mysterious language I didn't understand.

When it came time for prayer, roughly 500 Muslim males solemnly gathered to address Allah. Being an unbeliever, I sat on a chair in the back and prepared to take notes on the differences between us.

Here's the only note I took: "Their kids are just like our kids."

In the middle of the prayer, while everyone was prostrated, a 2-year-old boy climbed onto his father's back. When the father stood, the kid held on and yelled, "Wheee!" It echoed through the mosque.

The father didn't try to shrug off his son. Moreover, nobody around them seemed put out in the least. The kid eventually lost his grip and fell off on his own.

When the prayer was over, I watched to see if the kid got scolded or smacked for his lack of decorum. Nope. He just ran around with the other kids.

There's a lesson here. I'm not sure what it is. It's just this feeling that if we all approached our differences with the tolerance afforded little children, we might be better off.

Robert Kirby can be reached at rkirby@sltrib.com or facebook.com/stillnotpatbagley. Find his past columns at http://www.sltrib.com/lifestyle/kirby/