In the 25 years I knew her, I can only remember entering my grandmother’s house through the front door a handful of times. No matter if it was Christmas, a random Friday night or any time our car was physically closer to the front door when Dad parked it, we typically walked around to the back door in order to get inside.
“The front door is for company and YOU are NOT ‘company,’” my mother repeatedly told me.
By contrast, Grandma always came to the front door when she stopped by to see us, but our neighbor lady, who was roughly the same age, came to the back door. Grandma rang the bell to announce her arrival while the neighbor lady simply opened the storm door off the driveway and called “Yoo-hoo!”
When you stop and think about it, a person’s door choice typically indicates that individual’s position in the hierarchy in our lives. As the matriarch of the family, Grandma fell into the more formal, or “company” category and could justifiably use the front door with confidence. After all, when she came to see us, there was usually a reason for the visit. She may have been invited to dinner. It may have been someone’s birthday or she might be stopping by to see my mother’s new sofa. She didn’t just pop in and she knew that by using the front door and ringing the bell, it bought my mother an extra minute to put any last minute preparations in place before greeting her.
Conversely, the neighbor lady was more of a “back door friend” who didn’t require a special reason to say hello, return a book she borrowed or bring over some mail that had been delivered to her house by mistake. She didn’t mind carrying on a conversation while my mother made dinner, was dressed in a bathrobe or if she were painting a wall. I cannot imagine either woman reversing roles any more than I can imagine myself trading places with Queen Elizabeth II. I mean, sure…I’d like to try the crown on for size, but I wouldn’t be comfortable wearing it every day. And I certainly wouldn’t ask to do it. (Can you imagine? “Hey Liz, let me try on the family jewels!”)
To play fair, I highly doubt her majesty would honestly enjoy driving my son to campus, shopping for my groceries or snacking on a frozen pizza, but then again it might be a fun break from her normal routine.
Today’s gospel is all about knowing one’s place and not trying to fill a position that does not belong to you. I could no sooner be the Queen of England than my neighbor lady could be my grandmother. A back door friend is just as valuable as the more formal guest and a commoner is just as important as a royal. Realizing where you fit in and humbly accepting your role in the grand scheme of things is what makes it so awesome when you are promoted to a place of honor – even if it is a one-time thing.
When I was eight, I had the day off from schooland my grandmother agreed to watch me while my parents were at work. I packed a bag with a day’s worth of diversions and my mother drove me over to her house. As we pulled into the driveway, I saw that her front door was open in anticipation of my visit.
“Looks like grandma is eager to see you,” my mother said, giving me a kiss and telling me to have a good day.
I walked up the sidewalk to the front door humbled by the thought that on that day, I was “company.” I was the guest of honor, the one for whom the metaphorical red carpet was rolled out, and the one invited to enter through the primary portal. The following day, I would go back to being a back door friend, but as long as I was welcome in her home, I would be comfortable with my position in her life.
Today’s readings for Mass: ROM 11:1-2A, 11-12, 25-29; PS 94: 12-13, 14-15, 17-18; LK 14:1, 7-11
