The bell tolls for you—and for your salvation

Bells have always gripped me, sometimes even to the point of completely stopping whatever I’m doing to count the peals as they lap the air.

And for some reason, even though a bell is an indicator of time—not only for the hours—but also marking the moments with each gong—there is an eternal quality about its bronzed cadence.

Last Sunday, the eternal quality of the bell was unveiled before me at the 10am Mass at the Cathedral of St. Paul.

For those of you who have never stepped foot in the Cathedral of St. Paul’s—pray that you do one day. Truly it is an edifice of architectural grandeur seldom seen in North America. Gazing at it, you’d think your feet were planted somewhere other than Minnesota. But here it stands. Entering the doors, one is immediately struck by the stateliness of the interior. Sprawling ceilings, stone columns, cerulean and rose stained glass, even a baldocino over the altar.

But what really distinguishes the Cathedral is not its architecture, but its liturgies: the solemn barreling of the organ, the ethereal Latin chant…and the bells. Every Sunday Mass, the cathedral bells toll at the moments the bread and wine become the Body and Blood of Christ. I eagerly await the proclamation of the bells—Verbum caro factum est—deeply moved by the eternity behind them. Those bells are resounding the salvific truth that Christ had become Man, and now had become Bread.

And why did He become Bread? “Whoever eats my Flesh and drinks my Blood will have Eternal Life.”

The bells, like the Apostles, have a message of eternal importance to proclaim to us, “Fear not little one, your salvation has come.”