CREEDE HINSHAW: Christmas comes, with or without bells

A paragraph in The Economist made me curious and sad. It noted that Britain’s oldest manufacturer was up for sale. The Whitechapel Bell Foundry in London has been casting bells since at least 1570.

One sentence in the report made me feel as hollow as bells the foundry still produces: “Fewer churches mean fewer orders for large bells.”

Fewer church buildings have bell towers or steeples and many churches that once rang steeple bells have either sold their building or closed off the creaky, hazardous bell tower. That saddens me.

Of the six congregations I served (a total of nine church buildings because my first appointment included three country churches), only two had functioning bells. Most had leaky steeples. One church had electronic chimes with loudspeakers in the steeple and others had empty steeples or precariously mounted bells.

Only two of my congregations had serviceable bells and neither church used the bell to summon worshipers. I didn’t grow up being summoned to church by a bell, but nostalgia makes me wish I had. Church bells remind one of villages, rural settings, tranquility and faithfulness to the summons.

The Whitechapel Bell Foundry, which cast the Liberty Bell, also sells bell ropes, pulls and clock bells, but the company claims four-fifths of its income still comes from church and tower bells. The Economist noted, however, that the success of Downton Abbey means the foundry sells an increasing number of tiny hand bells to ring for tea.

One draws this dour conclusion: a company that once cast bells sounding clear, compelling and public notes of salvation now manufactures little bells so the indolent can summon privately a servant. There’s a whole sermon in that contrast.

Christmas has long been associated with the ringing of bells publishing glad tidings. You may send or receive Christmas cards (becoming as rare as church bells) depicting festive chimes and at least one Christmas song is based on the effect of church bells upon a downcast listener.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow wrote “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day” on Dec. 25, 1863, in the thick of the American Civil War. The final two stanzas describe his depression over the endless bloodshed and how church bells brought him new hope:

And in despair I bowed my head;

“There is no peace on earth, I said,

“For hate is strong

“And mocks the song

“Of peace on earth, good will to men.”

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep,

“God is not dead, nor doth He sleep,

“The Wrong shall fail,

“The Right prevail,

“With peace on earth, good will to men.”

Longfellow’s words are so current they could describe the world this week. If the only noise you can hear is the wretched sound of depressing news, I pray that you might grasp the truth conveyed to the poet. With or without the help of Christmas bells, may you know that God is not dead or slumbering. Christ is born!

Email columnist Creede Hinshaw, a retired Methodist minister, at [email protected].