Church Bells
by Benedictine Monks of Buckfast Abbey
I.
One of the most striking features of our churches is a tower, or even several towers. Although height and richness of workmanship characterize chiefly buildings belonging to what is called the Gothic style, even the older churches and basilicas seldom lack so conspicuous an ornament. A tower is like a finger pointing heavenwards, reminding men of their supernatural destiny and forbidding them to be so engrossed in the pleasures and cares of earth as to forget their only true home. Nor are church towers of recent origin. Already in the fifth century a tower is part of the structure of the basilica, or, at least, stands in close proximity. This is the case at Ravenna, and an ancient mosaic of St. Mary Major in Rome shows two churches or basilicas having each a round tower.
But towers are not meant solely for ornament. From their lofty chambers there floats down upon the city or the countryside the melodious harmony of bells, calling men to worship within the sacred building, and expressing, as well as dead matter may, the sentiments both of joy and sorrow which alternately sway human hearts.
It is so natural to man to endeavor to produce sounds by means of instruments of music, or by striking certain metals, that one wonders that there should have been writers who sought to claim the inventions of bells exclusively for the Church. It is true that antiquity never knew anything resembling the large bells, which are now considered to be an indispensable adjunct of any church of some size or importance. It may be true to say that the Romans and Greeks did not use bells for the purpose of summoning men to the temples of the gods. But innumerable samples of bells of every kind — though of very small size — are known to archeology, and we are certain that they were used both for ornament and for superstitious purposes.
Bells were in existence and use in the days of Moses. Small bells were part of the scheme of ornamentation of the robes of the high priest: "And beneath at the feet of the same tunick round about, thou shalt make as it were pomegranates, of violet, and purple, and scarlet twice dyed, with little bells set between: So that there shall be a golden bell and a pomegranate, and again another golden bell and a pomegranate... that the sound may be heard, when he goeth in and cometh out of the sanctuary..." (Exod., xxviii. 33 sqq.)
Small bells were known to the Phoenicians and Egyptians, and even to the Chinese, centuries before the Christian era. Roman cemeteries have yielded a great number of these tintinnabula — a good descriptive word of the rather "tinny" sound produced by these early samples of the bell-founder's art. Small bells were attached to animals owing to a superstitious belief in their power to drive away evil influences, though, no doubt, then as now bells were attached to the harness of horses, for instance, for ornament at least as much as from superstitious motives.
Bells served very much the same purposes to which we now put them. Martial tells us that the owners or caretakers of the public baths proclaimed the opening of their establishments by ringing a bell:
Redde pilam, sonat aes thermarum, ludere pergis. (Epigr., I, 63.)
Bells were used at funerals. Diodorus of Sicily relates how, at the funeral of Alexander the Great, bells were attached all round the funeral chariot. Their sound could be heard at a considerable distance. The chariot itself was drawn by sixty-four mules whose harnesses were decorated with golden bells.
In the light of these facts the invention of bells cannot be attributed to Christianity; their use was spread far and wide long before our era. All that can be claimed for the Church is her adoption of that which was already established, and the abolishing of superstitious uses by the blessing and consecration with which she dedicates the sonorous metal to the service of God. It would appear that the monasteries were prompt in adopting this means to convene the brethren to prayer and other community exercises. Regularity demanded some such means. St. Benedict, in his Rule, speaks repeatedly of the duty of "signifying the hour of the work of God," and it would appear to have been done by ringing a bell. In the monasteries of St. Pachomius, which were as crowded as military barracks, the signal for the various exercises was actually given by means of a trumpet, or bugle, as we should say (cumque audierit vocem tubae ad collectam vocantis, statim egrediatur monachus).
The names of bells have varied. The oldest designation is tintinnabulum, even where their size already far exceeded the diminutive bells of the ancients. Thus, we read in the life of St. Eligius how, when a suspended priest wished nevertheless to celebrate the holy mysteries and tried to call the people by the sound of a bell, the bell would not move even though he pulled hard at the rope. Entering within himself, the unhappy man repented, and when the interdict was removed, the bell emitted its usual sound (sonus protinus rediit in tintinnabulum). This story takes us back to the seventh century.
The name signum is very common, especially in Gaul. It is the name for the signal, which calls monks to matins (signum quod matutinis commoveri solet). Parochial churches were provided with bells (dum per plateam praeterirent, signum ad matutinas motum est, erat enim dies dominica). In the sixth century, St. Benedict writes: ad horam divini officii mox ut auditum fuerit signum, summa cum festinatione curratur (Regula, xliii).
Another name for bell is clocca, but its use was restricted to German-speaking and Celtic districts. We read in the Life of St. Sturmius of Fulda that "currere citius ad ecclesiam jussit, omnes gloggas pariter moveri jussit." As for the Celtic Saints and missionaries, they had each his own bell for summoning the people — a famous bell being that of St. Patrick, Clog-an-edachta, which is preserved to this day in a Dublin museum.
Campana is a familiar name for our bells. As the Province of Campania was famous for its iron and bronze industry, the word campana was applied to many objects made there, including among others bells, as in this passage of Pliny: "in campanis venturam tempestatem praecedens suus fragor praedicit" (Hist. nat., xviii, 56). From a letter written about 515 by Ferrandus, a deacon of Carthage, to Eugippius, abbot of a monastery near Naples (Leclercq, III, col. 1962), we gather that the use of bells was already a long established custom (alios plurimos ad consortium boni operis vocas, cui ministerio sonoram servire campanam beatissimorum statuit consuetudo sanctissima monachorum).
Another name is that of nola. It has been said that Nola in Campania was the place of origin of bells, and that St. Paulinus, bishop of that city, had something to do with it. The poet Avianus (A. D. 160?) uses the word when he says that a bell was attached to a certain mad dog:
Hunc dominus, ne quem probitas simulatae lateret,
Jusserat in rabido gutture ferre nolam. (Fabula, viii.)
According to Honorius of Autun, who wrote in the twelfth century, a big bell was called campana., from the Province of Campania, and a little one nola, from the City of Nola (Sacramentar., viii). All this belongs, not to the province of history, but to the realm of fancy.
The custom of engraving inscriptions upon bells seems to have begun about the ninth century, perhaps even at a somewhat earlier period. The name of the donor would often appear on the metal, and eventually that of some Saint to whom the bell was dedicated.
II.
The consecration of a bell is a very solemn function, and its origin must be sought far back in the eighth century, if not earlier. It has always been the practice of the Church to bless any objects that were used in the service of God. As the role of the bells is a very solemn and imposing one, it was not likely that in their case a solemn ceremonial of inauguration would be omitted. In fact, the blessing of bells has so many features in common with the rites of Christian initiation that at an early date men spoke of the "baptism" of a bell, rather than of its blessing. It would appear that at one time the bells were actually dipped into the baptismal water, the priest or bishop pronouncing in the meantime the words used at Baptism. This abuse was, of course, possible only because of the small size of the first bells. It was condemned by a capitulary of Charlemagne of the year 789, which ordains: ut cloccas non baptizent. However, it was already part of the ceremony to wash the bell with water specially blessed and to anoint them with oil. The Pontificale of Archbishop Egbert of York, in the eighth century, contains a prayer for the blessing of a bell (ad signum ecclesiae benedicendum). However, the very oldest known ritual for the blessing of a bell is of Spanish origin, and is found in the Liber ordinum, which takes us back to the time preceding the Arab invasion of the Peninsula. In the Exorcismus ad consecrandum signum basilicae, we find prayers, which utter very much the same sentiments as those to be found in the rite of the Pontficale Romanum.
Nor must it be imagined that church bells are a peculiarity of the Latin Church and unknown to the Greeks and the East generally. A relief has been found, from the reign of Justin II, 565-578, which shows a bell hanging from a beam being struck by two men. It is true, however, that for a long time the Greeks made use of a long piece of wood, and sometimes a metal bar, pierced with small holes by which the instrument could be suspended. This piece of wood was struck with a wooden mallet and went under the name of semander, which has the same meaning as our Latin signum. In 865 Michael III put up in the Church of St. Sophia twelve bells, which had been given him by the Doge of Venice. However, this princely gift did not lead to the abolition of the semander. An attentive perusal of the Church's ritual will best show us what meaning and importance she attaches to these instruments which she blesses with such solemnity.
In virtue of the exorcisms and blessings bestowed on them, these material objects acquire a spiritual efficaciousness — that is, they become sacramentals. As such their virtue is both ex opere operato and ex opere operantis, by which we do not imply that there resides in consecrated bells a kind of magical power, which is always and infallibly operative, irrespective of the dispositions of those who seek its help. But the sound of the bells is meant to awaken in our hearts sentiments of faith and trust in God, and thus we may feel assured of special protection, because our Lord has empowered His Church to make of material objects the means and vehicles of heavenly favors.
What these gifts are is sufficiently indicated in one of the prayers, which accompanies the blessing of the water used at the "baptism" of a bell. This special Holy Water must be blessed by the bishop, even if he do not himself bless the bell (or, should a simple priest have to bless it, he must have a special faculty to that effect from the Holy See). The prayer reads:
"Bless this water, O Lord, with a blessing from heaven, and may the virtue of the Holy Spirit come down upon it, that when this vessel, which is prepared for summoning the children of Holy Church, hath been moistened with it, wherever this bell may sound, may the power of those who lie in ambush, the shadow of apparitions, the attack of whirlwinds, the striking of lightning, the ruin of thunderbolts, the calamity of tempests, and all spirits of storms be scared away; and when the children of Christians hear its ringing, may devotion grow within them, that, hastening to the bosom of Holy Mother Church, they may there sing unto Thee in the assembly of the Saints a new canticle, introducing in their music the stirring sound of the trumpet, the sweet notes of the psaltery, the harmony of the organ, the cheerfulness of the drum and the gladness of the cymbal: so that by their prayers and worship they may invite to join them the multitude of the Angelic hosts who dwell in the holy temple of Thy glory."
The bell is then washed with the water thus blessed. When the bell has been washed, the bishop anoints it on the outside with the oil of the sick, after which he recites a prayer in which he once more asks that when "the melody of this bell sounds upon the ears of the people may their devout faith grow ... May the right hand of Thy power subdue the powers of the air, that, when they hear this bell, they may tremble and fly before the standard of the holy cross of Thy Son which is marked upon it... "
Once more the bell is anointed, seven times outside with the oil of the sick, and four times inside with the chrism. In a subsequent prayer the bishop repeats the petition so often made already, that
"before the sound of the bell may be driven far away the fiery darts of the enemy, the striking of thunderbolts, the fall of stones, the ruin caused by tempests ... that whoever assembles at its sound, may be free from all temptations of the enemy, and ever follow the teaching of the Catholic faith."
The last prayer sums up in one final petition the manifold blessings, which the consecrated metal is meant to procure for us. It will be seen that the dominant idea in the mind of the Church in blessing and using bells, is not just to summon the faithful to church. The bells are intended to be rung in time of danger, especially in storm and tempest, the origin of which Holy Church, with her marvelous wisdom and experience, rightly opines to be not infrequently due to the ill-will and jealousy of evil spirits. There is something ethereal, and almost spiritual, in the liquid notes that float over hill and dale, the busy city, and the peaceful village. These sounds and the metal from which they originate are used by God to procure for those who have faith spiritual blessings, no doubt, but also temporal ones:
"O Almighty Ruler, Christ, who, when sleeping in the ship according to the needs of that nature which Thou didst assume, didst awake, and instantly calm the sudden storm, so now do Thou graciously come to the help of Thy people in their necessities: spread over this bell the dew of the Holy Spirit, that the enemy of all good may ever flee before its sound; the Christian people be invited to profess their faith; the hostile army be scared away, and Thy people, in obedience to its call, be strengthened in the Lord; and may the Holy Spirit, charmed as by David's harp, come down from on high; and as, when Samuel was offering up a suckling lamb as a holocaust to the Ruler of the everlasting kingdom, the thunder of the skies drove back the crowd of his assailants, so, whilst the sound of this vessel travels through the clouds, may the bands of Angel save the assembly of the Church and may Thy ceaseless protection guard the fruits, the minds and the bodies of those who believe in Thee."
The function concludes with the chanting of that passage of St. Luke's Gospel, which relates how our Lord was hospitably entertained by Martha and Mary. It is not easy to assign a reason for the choice of this passage: maybe it is due to the fact that the bell is the voice of God warning us to give heed to the needs of our soul and not allow ourselves to be wholly taken up with temporal and transitory things. Mary hearkened to Jesus, but Martha was troubled about many things, whereas one thing alone mattered. We venture to think that there may have been yet another motive for the choice of this Gospel. The blessing of a bell, especially that of many bells, is a festive occasion, one that would surely bring together many people, both clergy and laity. The sacred function would very naturally be followed by the exercise of Christian hospitality. Could there be a better seasoning of such hospitality than the ever-fresh and touching story related by St. Luke? Be this as it may, let us listen to the voice of the bell as to the voice of Christ, for it reminds us of our heavenly vocation and supernatural destiny. An old Latin inscription often found on bells sums up most admirably the office of the bell and the burden of its song:
Vivos voco,
Mortuos plango,
Festa decora,
Fulgura frango.
The following inscription on a bell, which hangs in the steeple of an old Devonshire village, expresses the same meaning:
"That folk may come to church in time, I chime;
When pleasure's on the wing, I ring;
To speed the parting soul, I toll." © Ignatius Press, 2515 McAllister Street, San Francisco, CA. 94118.
This item 3665 digitally provided courtesy of CatholicCulture.org
