Bell ringing cheer

Last Wednesday, I stepped up to join the Salvation Army's legendary Red Kettle bell-ringing tradition, an activity I will be doing every Wednesday until Christmas. I had always seen the bell ringers out of the corner of my eye as I rushed into a store for Christmas shopping, with the impure thought that if I just did not make eye contact, they did not exist so I did not have to donate any money.

The Salvation Army's Red Kettle campaign funds an impressive array of community services, including homeless shelters, emergency rent and utility assistance, summer camps, adult rehabilitation programs, food pantries, support for domestic abuse survivors, and disaster relief. Every penny (or dollar!) dropped in the kettle goes straight toward these efforts. For those skeptical of nonprofits, rest assured — less than 5% of funds are used for staffing and overhead, and their director earns a refreshingly modest salary.

The bell ringing done at Christmastime is not just the sound of a bell, “it's the sound of curing hunger, the sound of Christmas to a child in need, the sound of a safe place for our neighbors to sleep. It is the sound of help, hope, and comfort to our neighbors when they need it most during the holidays and beyond.” How could I say no when asked to volunteer for this program by the pastor of our church?

Being a bell ringer comes with a surprisingly long list of rules, and I did my best to follow them all. I started off with a big, warm smile, which by the end of my shift felt more like it was pasted on and my cheeks began to ache. I was the picture of warmth, courtesy, and approachability, greeting everyone with a happy “Good morning!” or “Merry Christmas!” and enthusiastically thanking every donor, no matter how small their contribution. I rang that bell with my wrist flipping away on autopilot. I did not obstruct the flow of traffic into the store, nor did I eat, drink, or look at my phone the entire time. Although bell ringers are supposed to stand while on duty, because of physical problems, I came prepared with a tall, portable stool on which I could sit and still be eye level with shoppers.

Avoiding eye contact

I quickly confirmed my theory: those who avoided eye contact and bolted quickly into the store were, unsurprisingly, the least likely to donate. It was like a silent, unspoken pact — if they didn’t acknowledge my existence, the kettle might as well have been invisible. But what truly caught me off guard was the generosity of some of the people who appeared to have the least to give. Quarters, crumpled dollar bills, and even the occasional handful of loose change made their way into the kettle, often accompanied by a heartfelt smile or a quiet, “I hope this helps,” and “Thank you for doing this.” It dawned on me that their own struggles probably made them more empathetic, more willing to give what little they had to help someone else. It wasn’t the amount that mattered — it was the spirit behind it. However, I also learned that some of the people who appear to be the poorest DID give money, albeit quarters and dollar bills. My theory is that because of their difficulties, they relate to others who have similar difficulties, and they want to help. On the flip side, some of the most impeccably dressed, polished shoppers, looking like they had just stepped out of a glossy magazine ad, seemed to have mastered the art of avoiding eye contact.

I saw bell ringing as my chance to spread some good old-fashioned Christmas cheer. Since the Salvation Army is a Christian organization, they encourage sticking with “Merry Christmas” over the more generic “Happy Holidays,” staying true to the celebration of Christ’s birth — the reason for the season. Embracing the festive spirit, I donned a bright red Santa hat and proudly wore my bell-ringing apron, tinkling the bell of the season.

I proudly joined the ranks of a legacy stretching back generations — a long line of dedicated bell ringers. The Salvation Army’s Red Kettle campaign has been spreading Christmas goodwill since 1891, when Captain Joseph McFee set out the very first kettle in San Francisco to raise funds for feeding the hungry. Today, those iconic red kettles and we cheerful bell ringers can be found around the globe, proving that a simple idea can resonate across time and do an immense amount of good.