When I was a full-time seminarian, back in 2005, I occasionally rang the massive, ancient bell in the second floor bell-tower. One Wednesday, following Eucharist when the Bishop was visiting, I commented that it was a shame the bell was not rung.
From that moment, for the next year and a half, I had a job. To ring the bell to bring the community together for Morning Prayer (Tuesday, Thursday and Friday mornings) and for Eucharist on Wednesday mornings.
There is a key to the room, which was hidden in the sacristy. I would arrive at chapel, take off my shoes, get the key, go up the two flights of stairs to the Bell Tower, unlock the door, put on the ear protectors and pull on the bell with all my strength. It usually took two or three pulls to get the bell to move and then it took a mixture of strength, concentration and grace to keep the bell ringing.
When it was time to stop ringing the bell I would wrap the rope around my back and “sit” on it, then carefully let go, once the bell had stopped swinging.
In those moments I felt close to God, especially on mornings when it had snowed and the snow had blown through the louvers of the bell tower, resting on the massive bell, which then provided me with a personal snow shower.
Standing in that room that was more than a century old was a humbling and gratifying experience. Dust on the floor coated my feet, snow often in my hair and yet as I came back down to take my place before Chapel began, I felt connected to something that was a part of tradition and ancient history.
That job had become something much more…it had become a ministry.
You paint a beautiful image. I have always loved the sound of church bells. They make a church seem more approachable and welcoming somehow. I would love to give bellringing a try one day. My local church uses a recording rather than real bells and it sounds utterly dismal in comparison.