Every week, I meet
somebody new.
You’ve seen me at the
doors after Mass; you know where I stand, and the frenzy all around as folks
leave the church. Sometimes, somebody
wants to talk to me; sometimes, I start the conversation. Sometimes, we resume a conversation from last
week or last month. Sometimes we can
only make eye contact or wave as the crowd presses on.
And always, kids get
priority. If a small person wants to
talk to me or shake my hand or show me her drawing or play in my cape, the
grown-ups usually have to yield. I think
most of you realize this; at least I hope so!
Trust me, I’ll get back to you - but two-year-olds’ attention is a
fleeting thing, and I need to respond.
On the whole, I love
that madcap mix after Mass. You would be
amazed how much information and understanding goes back and forth during those
ecclesiastical flash mobs. I have a
pretty good memory, and so if someone mentions a prayer intention or a baby (or
grandbaby!) on the way or that an adult child got an awesome job in a faraway
city or a sick grandma, I have a pretty good retention percentage. It helps me keep in touch.
I particularly enjoy
meeting new people. Every now and then I
ask, “Do I know you?” and find someone I have never met before. I confess that once in a while it is somebody
I have met before. Oops! I admitted to a high retention percentage,
not total recall.
I meet a lot of visitors. There was the nice lady from Missouri, who
endured with forbearance my follow-up questions as I asked which diocese, what
city, and which parish. She lit up when
I told her that her pastor is my seminary classmate! Recently I happily informed a nice couple
from Georgia that their new pastor once had been assigned here as a seminarian
during the year he was ordained deacon (remember now-Father Scott Winchell from
oh, about nine years ago?)
But most often I meet
new families, just moved into the area, often with very young children. Just this past weekend I met two; one had a
baby named Elise who smiled past her pacifier; another had a two-year-old named
E.J. who was more interested in our maple trees than in talking to me. I did get the family names, but I am less
certain on the parent’s names, so I’ll have to do some follow-up next I see
them.
On Easter we had what
I call the “hospitality” on the lawn, and a lot of people were with us who are
not usually here. But these two
encounters happened the week after
Easter, which is much closer to the norm around here. We always have visitors, and we always, always have people in our midst who are
with us for the first time.
Standing outside the church
doors to greet everybody as they exit is probably not your thing. However, I would not want to deny you the
pleasure of meeting the people who come into our midst knowing nothing and
nobody, only the Mass schedule. More
importantly, I would not want to deny these newbies the pleasure of meeting you.
In this area, and in
this time, there are fewer and fewer people who build their lives around the worship
of God in His Church and in the sacraments.
In other words, almost anywhere else you go in the course of the
week, you are less likely to meet somebody who shares your priorities and
your belief than you are when you are right here. You are less likely to find somebody twenty
or forty years older (or younger!) with whom you already have something in
common, and grounds for more. You are less
likely to encounter a total stranger who shares some friendship, enthusiasm, or
experience of authentic personal significance with you. But right here, in what can look like a rugby
scrum after Mass, there are people who already share so much with you who are
really hoping that this will be the place they feel at home. Will you extend your hand?
Especially now, as the
weather warms (finally!) and our lawn becomes an inviting place to play and
linger, every week, you should meet somebody new.
Monsignor Smith
