Many people are frightened of entering a crowded room of strangers. It is not my favourite activity, either. In general, I do not go alone to social events. Either I go where I am known, or I cajole friends or husband to come with me. Travelling alone to unknown cities, I discovered long ago, is not something I enjoy.
This is why when I am on my home turf—or on a dear friend’s home turf—I keep an eye out for those brave souls who turn up apparently not knowing anyone. Usually this is the parish hall, which I have frequented for almost 17 years. For the past 6 years, I have been in charge of hospitality, and after bouts of coffee-making, I look in the corners for newbies sitting along.
If the newbie is a youngster, I introduce him or her to another youngster. If the newbie trips over his or her English, I search the room for a co-national. I am rarely brave enough just to switch to Polish myself, but I would be willing to do that for the joy of one day hearing the Lord say, “Byłem przybyszem, a przyjęłaś Mnie.”
Welcoming strangers is the duty of all Christians and an important part of social life. I think it should be taught to small children, at least in regard to other children. What is to stop adults from getting right down on our knees and going through the rituals?
“Thomas, this is Peter. Say ‘How do you do, Peter. I’m Thomas.’”
“How DO you DO, PE-ter? I’m THO-mas.”
“Now, Peter, say, ‘Very well, Thomas. Thank you’.”
Etc.
Of course, that may sound weirdly formal for four-year-olds, but how would they know? They’re only four.
The point would be to restore to society frank and friendly young people who enter a room, are greeted by a friend or a host, and then are introduced to lots of other people with whom they have something in common as a matter of course. And, in fact, in some places, this is still normal. When I was at a Polish picnic on Sunday, I was charmed by all the young men who announced their names and shook hands all around.
I hasten to point out how natural and unforced that was—quite unlike that hideously unliturgical moment in some churches where a layperson orders everyone to turn to the person beside them and introduce themselves. Absolutely such introductions should be done—but surely the carpark or the parish hall is the place for that.
But never mind that for now. What I want to do is remind readers of the importance of making introductions. When you bring a friend to Mass, don’t forget to introduce him or her to your other friends. If you see a stranger standing alone at a friend’s party, march up to him or her and introduce yourself. Then ask them if they know another friend in your vicinity and (if not) introduce them. If you’re unsure if you should take this bold approach, ask your host or hostess to introduce you.
Sometimes introducing yourself develops into a lively conversation. Sometimes the conversation falls absolutely flat. In fact, I tried to strike up a conversation with a stranger at Sunday’s picnic (in Polish to boot), and it belonged to the latter category. However, I swallowed my chagrin and (as advised by online language teachers) found someone else to talk to.
One thing I must remember is to introduce people to each other at our dance workshops in September. I usually forget, which is absolutely terrible. I am better at this our big dances, so if you come to the Michaelmas Dance I will be sure to introduce you to others.