I’ve been uneasy for some time with the idea of greeters. I’m not unfriendly, and not opposed to friendliness among Christians. But to be met at the door of a church by someone designated to do this seems somewhat artificial.
This last Sunday, while being greeted by a very nice, very friendly woman, I realized that my hesitation has a deeper root. It’s a matter of ownership. I belong to my parish. I belong at my parish.
Unlike a party in a private home, the Mass is not hosted in the same way. Unlike the Downton Abbey hostess, who is the only one with the right to ask guests to please be seated, this very nice lady with the name badge does not belong to the parish in a stronger sense than I.