70^th 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 9^th 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.