A C&E Connection Primer

As Christmas Eve rushes toward us, it’s a good time to brush off our collective plans and skills for an opportunity that will be literally within arm’s reach: Making connections with the C&E folks who will sit down the row from us. C&E, as in “Christmas and Easter church-goers,” used here as a helpful description and without judgment. Some of my best friends–and certainly some of my blog readers–would describe themselves as C&E-ers!

Since connection–relationship–is at the core of the (desirable) foolishness I’m always talking about, Christmas Eve seems like a reasonable time to wonder: What would be the FOOLISH (meaning “right”) thing to do on Christmas Eve?

I’ll admit, I’ve never been a C&E person (or, actually, I’ve been a C&E-plus-most-other-Sundays person). So whatever I say here, I’ll admit right up front, I may be wrong. If you see it differently, wherever you sit on the C&E&more meter, I hope you’ll comment. I’m happy to collectively think through these questions.

But, from where I sit, here are some things I think are not helpful when the C&E crowd shows up:

• Saying, “Excuse me, but you’re in my spot.”
• Saying, “Well, hi, George. You’re here, so it must be Christmas!” (Unless you know George really well, and you are certain he’ll laugh with you.) (And you’re certain no one nearby will view your comment as judgmental.) (Which is a lot of certainties….)
• Sending stink-eye in their direction, like we’re the ones who belong, and they’re not.
• Saying, “Now that you’ve found your way to church,” (or “now that you walked in here and lightning didn’t strike,”) “I hope we’ll see you every week from now on.”
• Interacting exclusively and generously with the “regulars,” while overlooking and stepping past the people you don’t know.
• Acting like you don’t notice the person who appears not to know where to go, or who can’t find a seat, or who didn’t get one of the worship bulletins that ran out before they arrived. Or, when you do let them know you see them, acting like they’re a nuisance, or letting the know it’s totally not your job to assist them.
• Saying to someone you don’t know, who has a child making a ruckus, but who hasn’t asked for this information, “You know we have a nursery where your noisy kid could go.”
• Fawning over that stranger as if you’re desperate to make friends and get them to fill your church’s committees and offering plate.

I could go on, but you get the idea.

The truth is, these C&E occasions are pregnant with possibility. We will be in contact with people who have been, at some point or through some relationship, drawn by the wonder of what God is doing. They’re somewhere on a continuum of curious to skeptical to disillusioned, but they haven’t completely walked away. Somehow Christmas and Easter call them out of their routines, and into the midst of “church people” in spite of whatever keeps them away. They come in search of something like reverence, or tradition. Maybe they give in to a yearning they’ve often ignored?

(For a reflection by one woman who describes how this was for her–and how it changed her into a C&E-and-much-more Christian, take a look at blogger Angela Johnson’s words here.)

I am certain that many of us are glad to see the church bustling and overflowing with Christmas cheer. Many of us would love to make a connection that could make that C&E visit more meaningful for that person we’ve never met, or rarely see in church. Yet we aren’t always sure how to be present in a positive way with these folks.

One of the things I get to do as the pastor of Women at the Well is to visit worship on Sunday mornings in churches where I’ll bring the message, and share about our ministry inside and beyond the prison. This means that I’ve been that person no one knows, in probably 100 different churches across Iowa over the past nine years. Here are a few things I’ve learned, on the giving and receiving end of connecting, that feel relevant to this C&E opportunity that’s upon us:

• Eye contact, a smile, and a handshake are a really good place to start. Even with someone who looks like they aren’t interested in talking to you, those things are basic, and practical, and regular ways of making a connection.
• Words like, “I’m Lee, and I’m not sure if we’ve met. Should I know your name?” (if you think you’ve seen them before) or “I’m Lee, and I’m so glad you’re here” (if you don’t) are helpful to learn people’s names and start a conversation. Extra points if you remember and actually use their name before you move on.
• Notice something you can admire or inquire about: their scarf, or tie, the design on their t-shirt, or their a similarity to someone else you admire (“you remind me of my Aunt Jo, and boy, was she a good woman”). Make it sincere, and good-natured, and listen to what they say in response.
• Give them a (sincere) compliment. Roz in the show Frasier says: “You can never, ever say too much good about her hair.” I totally find this to be true!
• Love their children! If you compliment my kids (or my parenting), I will glow, and I’ll think you’re observant and insightful. It’s a really simple equation: If you love my kids, I’ll love you! If you’re (generously) interested in my kids, I’ll think you’re someone I want to know.
• Gently comment about something distinctive about them, in a way that expresses your (non-intrusive) care: “I can’t help noticing your bandages; are you doing OK?”
• If you know the person has been bereaved or undergone some other loss recently, it’s OK to gently mention it–even though your instincts will tell you to shy away from those things. “Evelyn, it must be hard to be here without Marv; I sure do miss him.” Or, in the right circumstances, to the teenager whose mom just went to prison, “Hi, Benjamin. I’m thinking about your mom, and I imagine you are, too.” Experts remind us, these folks are already thinking about that person who is not present, and they miss talking about them. Even if they weep in response, you haven’t made it worse for them.
• Connect to people’s sense of place. “Are you from ______your town name_________?” Whether they are or not, you can make a lot of interesting connections this way. They’ll mention a distant hometown where you have relatives, or always wanted to visit, or have a sweet memory, and you can mention that, and then you’re on the way to being friends.

I totally get it that some of you are thinking, “Friends?! I just wanted to go to Christmas Eve service; I didn’t go there to make friends!” Some of you who are C&E Christians are saying that, and some of you who are in church every week are saying that! There’s a way that–especially on Christmas Eve–we want to focus on our family, and the candlelight, and the manger, and who wants to make friends?!

Here’s the thing. I can sit elbow-to-elbow with strangers in a movie theater or on an airplane or other public transportation, or in some restaurants and bars. And in those settings, if we don’t ever speak to each other, so be it.

But this is church, my friends. Church, where Jesus told us one of our basic assignments is to love one another. The idea that we would sit within arms’ reach of human beings on Christmas Eve without exchanging so much as a “hello,” because this is time for us to focus on our own families? Without caring whether they feel welcomed and intrigued to return? That feels, well, not very true to what Jesus got born for in the first place.

And, after all, you’re reading my blog! I’m the one who wrote, in Foolish Church, “The first and best thing we do as a church is enter into real relationships with real human beings.” (p. 27) It’s true for us as churches. It’s true for us as individuals and families sitting in church on Christmas Eve.

So, yes, I invite you to be foolishly present with whomever you meet in church next week. Make friends, if that ensues! I’m foolish enough to believe all this may be the best gift you’ll give–or receive!–this Christmas.

Photo of First United Methodist Church in Carbondale, IL, credit Joel Hawksley/The Southern, 2012.