Summoned by Bells
That time of year again. It’s Advent Sunday and will be Christmas before we know it. Tower captains are emailing round to find a band to ring for the Christmas Carol service and forcing the broken window shut, then sweeping up dead flies from the floor of the ringing chamber.
Bells are a firmly embedded part of our Christmas culture. The heading of this ‘Thought’ is the title of a collection of John Betjeman’s poems. You will know his poem Christmas, which begins: ‘The bells of waiting Advent ring…’ But do you remember his poem Wantage Bells? It starts: ‘Now with the bells through the apple bloom Sunday-ly sounding.’ And finishes: ‘Bell notes alone, Ring praise of their own, As clear as the weed-waving brook and as evenly flowing.’ Or, lastly, On hearing the full peal of ten bells from Christchurch, Swindon Wilts: ‘Your peal of ten ring over then this town, Ring on my men nor ever ring them down.’ A tad gender-biased for today, perhaps. But Betjeman clearly loved bells as much as he loved the churches that contain them.
As for Christmas tradition, whose heart hasn’t melted while listening to a primary school choir singing Ding dong merrily on high? Particularly if your talented child is in the choir. If the bells are merrily ringing in Heaven, are the host of angels ringing them? Are they ringing perfect rounds (always very welcome) or is it a touch of Double Norwich Court Bob Major?
Bells are part of our way of life. Those evenings of turning out in foul weather for practice night are more than worth it. I hope the Rector remembers to thank the ringers at the Carol Service!
Stephen Campbell