Happening at hours unpredictable and out of place at first, after weeks spent in one place, their chiming becomes a time-marker, the moment where you look up from your task - and if lucky, your pillow - and breathe, if only for a second.
No two sets of bells sound the same, and you come to distinguish your corner church from the larger neighbourhood's church, which in turn differs from the next corner's and neighbourhood's bells, blending with the larger city church, all clanging out their moments as bell soup. The clamour has a near and distant timbre in our listening, and those of interest, we seek them out to be close by when they clang their glory.
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Bell Ringers, 2000, Alexander Kosnichev, Russia
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I can't help but wonder what it would be like if church bells made their comeback in Canada. Pews are as empty in Italy on Sundays, at weekday morning Masses, as they are at home. But Italy's church bells still ring. They announce a presence, a reminder of the spiritual, and I can't help but think, no matter your belief, that hearts and souls respond to the ringing of the bells.
Maybe it would do us some good to be nudged to look up, to take a breath, to ponder for a moment something calm, harkening. Imagine if their call was not attached to an organized religion, but to a moment where we pause, reflect on our place in the universe, a reminder of how we treat one another, how each of us can contribute to a better world. Give the bell ringers reason to dance.
January, 2016
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