Maybe you need some instruction from a skilled usher …
I don’t mean Jerry (Usher). I mean me.
At my previous parish, after the other usher had packed his side of the church to what he was sure was maximum capacity, I’d go over and show him how to get nine chubby tourists into a pew built for eight regular people. (The parish was in a state historic park, and 80% of the people at Mass were from out of town.)
I had no compunctions about dragging latecomers all the way up the side aisle to the front pew. Of course, I wouldn’t tell them that the only open spot was in the front. I’d point sort of toward the middle and motion for them to follow me. I’d stop at the middle, and, when they had caught up, I’d walk to the front, motioning them again. They were stuck–and served them right for being late.
No one was allowed to put a young child or a purse or a coat on the pew, to take up space when someone else needed to sit. My thinking was: “You wanna sit? Fine, but don’t make this pregnant woman stand or this elderly man lean against the wall. You can put your belongings or your toddler on your lap. That’s why God made laps.”
You let people stand even though there was room in the middle of a pew? You wouldn’t have passed the usher test at my parish. All you need to do is to go to that pew, lean close to the guy hugging the end, and ask him to move in.
If he scoots in, keep waving him down the pew until his elbow hits the rib of the person at the other end. If he doesn’t move, smile at him, lean down, tilt up the kneeler, and wave in the family with four kids and two car seats.
The secret: Just be pushy. Real pushy. (Pretend you’re assigned to pack commuters into a rush-hour Tokyo subway.)
Of course, if the person at the end of the pew is there for an obvious medical reason, you smile a lot and say “Thanks” repeatedly, but you still tilt up the pew and wave the others in.