70th
Anniversary of the 43’ers
St Nicholas,
Harpenden
20th July 2013
There are not many
texts in the Bible that refer to bells and the few that do refer to little
bells on the hem of the priest’s robe in the OT. We could look at texts about proclaiming the
good news as bell ringing is a form of public proclamation of the Good news a
local church or cathedral has to offer to the world. Now, it may seem an odd and harsh text to
read at this special and memorable service to celebrate 70 years of the 43’ers. However, when I read about the 43’ers from an
article John Orme wrote, I thought of this verse, ‘Then Jesus told them a
parable about their need to pray always and not to lose heart’. I am not much interested in the parable that
follows, though it is one of the great Lukan parables that say so much. Rather, I am intrigued by the phrase, ‘pray
always and not lose heart’.
No
one can ever know what it is like to live through war time. It is one of those experiences that cannot be
fully conveyed by description. The
reality is far more intense and layered than any written or verbal description
can provide.
Wartime
creates a new unnatural routine that becomes the new normal, where nothing is
normal. Think of those who lived in the
cities, trying to get on with daily life, but there would be the sirens and the
need to find shelter. Remembering to do
the black out. The lack of foods. Listening each day of the news of the war on
the wireless. The suspicion of the foreigner.
And
in the villages, there were the children who arrived to be kept safe. The men subscripted to go and serve in
another distant and bloody war. The
transformation of farm and industry to serve the wartime needs. The fear that the idyllic pastoral peace
would be broken by stray bombers or a surprise invasion.
This new unnatural routine was compounded by the emotional
unease. The lovely and powerful slogan,
keep calm and carry on, is so rich. It
conveys a cultural personality of stiff-upper lip Britain. But it also captures the implicit truth, that
not everyone feels calm and that sometimes it is difficult to carry on. But that perseverance is what was
needed. Yet, each day in wartime, there
was this underlying anxiety and worry that was always with you.
British life takes for granted the sound of church bells:
that blessed clang and melody that echoes around the city, town or
village. It is a symbol of our faith and
a sound of our way of being. It is a
noise that intrudes yet brings comfort and assurance that all is well: prayers
are being said, the sacraments are being offered, good news is being read. But on 9th June 1940 that all
stopped. If the bells were heard, it was
not good news, but the terrible announcement that an invasion was underway. The comforting clanging that marked our
routine of community life became a looming apocalyptic portent of doom. Thank God they never rang with in this way.
The
Christian gospel is a gospel of hope. It
is good news. It brings hope. God is on the throne. Good will eventually triumph. There is the promise of life after
death. Love is the ultimate truth about
God. Justice and mercy will be
established. The poor and marginalised
are welcomed. Sinners are forgiven. When church bells ring they declare this
truth that it resides in this place where the tower stands tall and the bells
swing sweetly.
Imagine
then, the silent bells ringing out on 15 November 1942, not to warn of
invasion, but of a major victory in North Africa. Then on Christmas day that year, the bells
rang again, reassuring a nation that God was incarnate, one with us, good
news. Finally, on Easter day, 1943, the
bells sang across the land to say He is risen; invasion is no longer a threat;
good is being established across the nations. God is on the throne.
The
bells of 1943 become a parable of pray always and not lose heart. After the bells were silenced, the void
reinforced the sense that all was not well.
The threat of bells ringing only meant a terrible calamity was
underway. But when the bells did ring
again, they rang as a prayer of thanksgiving of victory, of Christmas joy and
of resurrection glory. When the bells of
1943 returned, they rang that things were well; a brighter future was on its
way. Life was returning to the old normal.
Those
who lived through wartime can truly say, we did not lose heart. We kept calm and carried on. We said our prayers behind black out
curtains, in bomb shelters, on our knees in church, sitting in front of the
wireless. And when the moment came, we
rang out our prayers in the ding-dong of cast iron and steel bells. In wartime, we prayed and did not lose heart.
The
ringing of church bells which returned to normal in 1943, at least normal in
terms of frequency, are a parable of holding on, of keeping the faith. To replace the many who were absent for war
efforts, new boys and girls, fresh young men and women stepped into the circle
or line to pull the ropes. The bells
continued to ring. So when the Son of
man comes, he will find faith on earth.
The
bells are a parable of the relentless clanging that says, hear us O Lord. They are the prayer of thanksgiving for
justice being established, and for the ringing out the good news of the Gospel
that is announced each Sunday.
The
woman in the parable wore out the judge with her relentless bothering. Our church bells ringing week upon week,
Sundays, weddings, special events and the like are a form of bother, telling community
and God we are still here. We are
praying and not losing heart. Thank you 43’ers
for your faithful duty and witness. We
celebrate you and give thanks to God.
