Call and response

The other night my husband and I were walking down Mass. Ave. toward Harvard Square.  We had checked into a sweet little B&B, part of our Friday-after-Thanksgiving tradition, and we were looking for a place to have dinner.  As we were approaching the square, we could hear some gospel singing ahead.  We saw people walking our way with amused expressions, some hurrying a little faster than usual.  You know, the evangelical-get-away-trot.  Deliver us from your disciples, O Lord.

Instead we were pleasantly surprised.  A tall African-American man in his older twenties, with a Salvation Army red kettle and bell, was singing a gospel riff with the words "Merry Christmas" and "Happy Holidays".  When he started with "me-r-ry", I sang it back to him.  "No, no," he said, "Me-er-er-ry!"  "Me-er-er-ry!" I sang back.  Then "Chri-is-is-ist-mas!"  We riffed that one up and down.  "Ha-ha-ha-ha-ppy hol-ol-ol-lid-da-ays!"  He was standing near an archway that made for some great acoustics--he must have scoped out this location or had worked here before.

He grabbed my husband by the arm.  "Man, you gotta keep her!  She's gonna get a recording contract or something!"  I then began my annual Advent devotion a little early: I put a dollar in his kettle, shook his hand and thanked him for his hard work this season.

And no, I didn't make a video of it or even take his picture.  You won't find this on YouTube or on Facebook.  Sometimes it seems as though we're all after our 15 seconds of fame, rather than making a spontaneous connection with another human being just for the fun of it.  I don't even own a smartphone; the phone I have can take pictures but I can't download them because it's a pay-as-you-go phone.  I answered this man's call with a response because that's what he was looking for.  Not just the response of money but the response of humanity:  "Hey, anybody in there?"

Since we were infants we have engaged in call and response.  We cry because we're hungry, wet, poopy, tired, and we need, need, need.  Most of us were blessed with someone who responded and a connection, a relationship was born.  We love it when someone calls out our name with energy and joy, like Norm walking into the bar in "Cheers".  And we are rich indeed if we still have friends in our lives who knew us before marriage, children and career, who remind us of where we came from, with whom we can pick up right where we left off.

I don't know about you, but the more connections I make (and I don't mean 'networking' or 'speed dating' of any kind), the more alive I feel.  The more I reconnect with those who know themselves to be alive on this planet, the more grounded, purposeful, joyful I feel.  And I hope that others around me feel the same way when I connect with them.

It all boils down to this one call and response:  Love me.  Let me love you.  Yes and yes.

I wish I had put more in his kettle.  And learned his name.