No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main; if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend’s or of thine own were; any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.
Now this bell tolling softly for another, says to me, Thou must die.
The decision to ring our church bell in memory of the Sandy Hook victims came late. I had seen a headline about it, but busy with other things, I had not paid much attention. Only late yesterday afternoon did a friend and LPC member ask if our bell would toll this morning.
If I hesitated a moment it was because of my ambivalence about civil religion, this call from the governor of Connecticut (we were asked to ring our bell not because we are a people who know the God of all comfort, but because we have a bell to ring). I paused, too, because we Americans grieve so poorly. We hope that green and white ribbons and piles of flowers in the school parking lot will be enough to numb the sting of death. Was this bell-ringing to be just one more shallow way to deal with so deep a sorrow?
Of course, we rang our bell. How could we not? It was important that we ring the bell. It was important for me to lay aside my own concerns for the common good. It went well. We were not a large group who gathered, but we heard Scripture read and prayed and then listened as the bell tolled its 26 slow rings. As the sound of the last toll was lost in the cold gray air of this first day of winter, we prayed again, using the words of Paul about the God of all comfort. Continue reading →