This story begins with the death of her late majesty, Queen Elizabeth II. Although it is not a story about the queen. At the time of her death, parishes were encouraged to toll their bells 96 times for the 96 long years of her life upon this earth — quite a feat when manually pulling on a rope for over an hour.
While tolling the bell here at St. James the Apostle in Stanbridge East – one of the eleven churches in the fledgling Eastern Townships Regional Ministry – it quickly became apparent that the rope which pulls the bell’s funeral hammer (resulting in a single tolling of the bell, as opposed to the joyful CLANG CLANG CLANG of a Sunday morning) was dislodged somewhere up in the tower. On the next sunny day, the local village stonemason and I went up to investigate.
It should be noted that while I am utterly terrified of heights, I am a firm believer that one needs to grapple with one’s fears if one is ever to overcome them — besides that, the stonemason’s riotous shouts upon reaching the top of the tower made me reluctant to miss this unique opportunity. “Father Tyson,” he shouted in his northern England accent, “you’ve got to come up and see this! The view is amazing!”
So, I strapped myself into a safety harness and began my ascent up the outside of the tower, muttering the Hail Mary and various other less-than-Christian prayers under my breath.
Indeed, the bird’s eye view of the village from high above the trees was stunning. But, even more amazing was the interior of the bell tower walls, which were carved with the names of the many brave (and foolish?) men and women from the area who had climbed the tower over the decades.
The earliest name we found was from 1905. There were the names of several people whom I knew from around the village, and others whom I had recently buried. Then, I found a familiar name carved in neat capital letters by one of the windows: “FR. PETER HANNEN, 14TH RECTOR OF THIS CHURCH, 1966.”
Archdeacon Hannen had led my diaconal pre-ordination retreat in this very church back in 2019, and had been rector of the parish and, back in the 60’s, lived in the very rectory that I now call home. I found a nail and carved my own name underneath his: “FR. TYSON ROSBERG, ASSOCIATE PRIEST, 2022.”
I felt a surprising connection with this region that God has called me into — a sort of holy communion with the past faithful of this place, infused not upon the bread and wine of the altar, but carved into the walls of the tower.
Much has changed in the life of our rural churches since the 1960’s. Yet, much remains the same. We continue to gather in faithful discipleship and prayer, growing together, in communion with that “great a cloud of witnesses” who have gone before us (Hebrews 12:1)!
