History
The Minister of Hospitality (or greeter) is a relatively new role for Catholics. Pre-Vatican II editions of the Roman Missal contain no mention of lay greeters. The words hospitality and greeter are not found in the “Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy.” The General Instruction of the Roman Missal lists among the liturgical ministers “those who, in some places, meet the faithful at the church entrance, lead them to appropriate places, and direct processions,” but no name is given to this ministry, nor is it described in any further detail. The current edition of the General Instruction mentions this ministry at the very end of the list of liturgical ministries, following “those who take up the collection in church.”
The Introduction to the Order of Mass, published last year by the U.S. Bishops’ Committee on the Liturgy as a pastoral resource to aid in the implementation of the General Instruction, quotes St. Paul’s instruction to the Romans to “welcome one another as Christ has welcomed you” (Rom 15:7). It then assigns to the ushers the task of “welcoming people at the door, providing them with all necessary books and aids, and helping them find their places.”
Those entrusted with the task of preparing Catholics to exercise the various ministries at Sunday Eucharist might argue that greeters and ushers are distinct ministries. Or perhaps those who have traditionally served as ushers—taking up the collection and counting the money—need additional formation to serve as ministers of hospitality.
How does one prepare for this ministry? Can hospitality be learned? Does one take a course for greeters at Wal-Mart? Obviously, there are certain facts and skills that can be easily learned: when to arrive, what to do if someone becomes ill, where the bulletins are kept and the like.
It is more difficult to develop a sense of this ministry. All the various liturgical ministers must work together for a common goal. One minister does not seat people while another minister is proclaiming the Scriptures. Assisting with the Communion procession is different from simply directing traffic.
More difficult yet is teaching the deeper issues: Why are we doing this in the first place? What purpose does welcoming serve? Why do we feel we need this ministry now, when we got by for so many years without it?
Perhaps one reason Catholics did not feel the need to welcome people coming to Sunday Mass was that we had been taught we “had to go.” Inviting Catholics to Sunday Mass was simply unnecessary—like the U.S. Government “inviting” you to pay income tax; you do it or else! For some, obligation may still be the primary motivation for attending Mass. After publishing an article on “Why I Go to Mass,” I received a letter informing me that “the reasons given in the article are all right, I guess; but you didn’t mention the main reason we go to Mass. We’ll rot in hell if we don’t!”
Today we have to do more than threaten; we have to invite and welcome. The U.S. bishops, in their Message to Young Adults in 1995, state: “We acknowledge the pain many of you speak of in feeling unwelcome and alone—strangers in the house of God.” The bishops apologize for past failures to extend hospitality and express their hope that in the future, “anyone who enters a Catholic church for Mass, or at any other time, will feel comfortable and welcome.”
Welcoming and hospitality become important whenever we need to do something together. But Mass was something we once did alone. Only recently have we come to understand the Eucharist as a communal act. During my high school and college years, I went to Mass “to pray.” I said my prayers and the priest said his. I was “talking to God” about my life and my concerns; the priest was “saying Mass.” I prayed quietly in English; the priest prayed in Latin. If there were other people in church at the same time—five or 500—they did not concern me; they said their prayers and I said mine.
I believe this is still the experience of many Catholics. The Mass is not yet perceived to be something that we do together. A few years ago, during the question period following a presentation I gave on the “new” liturgy, a gentleman asked me: “Father, why do I have to turn and shake hands and give that ‘kiss of peace’ before Holy Communion? It’s a terrible distraction. I don’t know those people. And the ones I know, I don’t even like.”
It has been 40 years since the Second Vatican Council wrote: “Liturgical services are not private functions, but are celebrations of the Church...liturgical services pertain to the whole body of the Church” (“Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy,” No. 26). This was a revolutionary insight. It changes everything. Mass is not a private devotion. We, as church, are doing something together. And the priest is not doing “his thing” up front, far away; he is presiding, coordinating and leading the community.
Changing people’s understanding of Mass from a private prayer to a communal act is made more difficult by the fact that as Americans we tend to think of “religion” as something private and individual. Charles Lippy, in his study of popular religiosity in the United States, Being Religious American Style (1994), concludes: “Being religious, American style, is to share in that dynamic, but highly personal and ultimately very private enterprise of endowing one’s own life with meaning.” Sunday Mass, for many Catholics, continues to be a “highly personal and ultimately very private enterprise.” This makes hospitality and welcoming both more difficult and all the more necessary.
by Thomas Richstatter, O.F.M., America, a National Catholic Weekly