As Holy Trinity and the City are trying to find a way to “save” our bell tower, I can’t help but think of how much church bells were a part of my growing up in Italy.

“We will ring our bells!”

Every Italian student knows the famous answer that the general of the Florentine army, Pier Capponi, gave to King Charles VIII of France in 1949. The King had descended into Italy with a mighty army, in order to conquer more territory for France.

When the French army encamped outside the walls of the city-state of Florence, Pier Capponi was sent to negotiate with him. The King demanded surrender, free passage, money and everything that he could think of, adding, in a menacing tone: “And if you do not give me everything that I want, I will blow my trumpets.” That, of course, meant that the French would attack Florence.

And here’s Pier Capponi’s pithy answer, which has remained etched in Italian history: “If you blow your trumpets, we will ring our bells.”

That’s right. All churches, in those days, had bell towers and bells; not just one, but several, from the largest, whose voice was like the sound of doom, to the smallest, whose silvery voice resembled the laughter of children. In earlier days, bell ringing was a profession, and there were some very talented ringers, who could perform absolute concerts, to the delight of all those who heard them.

The bell, in Catholic tradition, is “the voice of God.” In older days, bells tolled the life of cities, towns and villages. Their voices carried far and wide, their different rhythms and cadences bringing the news even to those who were most distant from the church. When everything was normal, the bells called the folks to Mass, to Vespers and other liturgies. I still remember when we were little: thirty minutes before Mass, the bell-ringer would pull the cords of some of the bells a few times. Twenty minutes before, the bells would give a few more rings. Ten minutes before, all the bells in the tower would go into action, and with their joyful peal, seemed to say: “Hurry, hurry, hurry, what are you waiting for, you slug-a-bed? It’s time to come to the Lord’s house, we are waiting for you!” Their invitation was so appealing and so insistent that it was hard to resist.

Even these days, everyone knows what the slow, unexpected toll of the big, deep-voiced bell meant:  someone in the parish had died.  Everyone would stop whatever they were doing (at least, in my home we did) and recite a requiem for the soul of the departed.

At appropriate times, the bells still announce the liturgical hours:  Lauds, Prime, Terce, Sext, None, Vespers and Compline.  In small towns, almost everyone used to walk to their church to pray Vespers in the evening.

Then, precisely at noon, the bells toll the Angelus.  That was the signal for our mother to put the food on the table, and to lead us in the age-old prayer:  “Angelus Domini nuntiavit Mariae…” “The Angel of the Lord announced unto Mary…”  Anyone not standing behind their chairs, at the lunch table, had better have a great reason!

Finally, in older days, the insistent, unexpected, quick toll of one bell would gather everyone who could run or walk into the church square.  That insistent and rapid sound gave the general alarm.  It was the only means to warn everyone that something was happening:  fires, floods, invasions… you name it.

Now we can understand Pier Capponi’s answer to Charles VIII:  “If you blow your trumpets, we will ring our bells.” Which meant:  “We are not going down without fighting.  If you blow the war trumpets, the sound of our bells will mobilize the entire city.”

While in many parts of Italy the bells continue to perform their customary function, the “alarm bells” are no longer used except in very small communities. However, their beautiful, majestic voices are harder to hear because of competing and conflicting sounds: police, ambulance and fire sirens; loud music blaring from passing or stopped cars; shrill ringing of telephones; insistent voices from TVs and radios that are turned on first thing in the morning until late at night.

Our young folks may not agree with me, but a life that moves in harmony with the sound of church bells is a peaceful, prayerful, and serene life.  Wouldn’t you take that against the jarring, stressful, obnoxious sounds all around us today?