Historically, the bells of Europe, controlled by the church, signalled to the people when to rise, when to work, and when to rest, and gave the church a level of authority through the practical application of sound as a representation of God. Did they use the Muslim system of telling when it was ‘day’ and when it was ‘night’? Hold a black thread at arm's length in front of you. In the morning, when the Imam can see the colour, it is daytime. In the evening, when he can no longer see the colour, it is night.
The bells rang to start the day, and to break the day into its component parts. Here in Thessaloniki, the bells still ring to start the day, and at intervals throughout the day.
Clocks allowed the day to be evenly divided into times, yet the bells continued to control the day, not tied to clock-measured time, retaining the power and control of the church.
As society changed, and with the French Revolution stripping the churches of any authority, the bells continued to ring, aligned with the clock, and under the ‘management’ of the state, so continuing the roll of the clock as an emblem of power over the people’s day.
Now, having a clock (that is accurate) is a very important tool in any society, and for any individual. “What time is the meeting, what time do we need to be there, at what time does the ferry/train/plane leave?” Synchronisation enables efficiency, and any synchronisation requires clocks.
In Saint Malo the clock on the cathedral tower chimes the number of a times equal to the hour; 6 chimes for 6am or 6pm, 2 for 2am or 2pm. And for each 15-minute interval in between, one chime. Rising from the depths of sleep to the sound of the bells is a pleasure, a means of establishing time-position in, and for the coming day. Counting the bells is equally relaxing and focusing.
In Thessaloniki this morning, the bells rang at 7:22am. But that was from one church only. And there was no cadence, only a cacophony of sound. A minute later another church rang their bells. Did the bellringer think he’d missed his time? Or did the first bellringer want to be first this morning, after days of being second or third or fourth church?
Each church bellringer has his (they are always men) own tune. Live bell ringing is a performance as much as a task. We know the bellringer at the closest church, and we know exactly when he is away on holiday and his responsibilities are taken over by someone who does not know his tune. Jakova, a Georgian, is the caretaker of the Chalkeon Church, named (the church, not Jakova) after the Virgin Mary, patron of the Coppersmiths. His bellringing is a sweet little tune, repeating four rings in a little sing-song, and distinctly his.
The Agia Dimitrios church, three hundred metres away, has a very different sound, made by larger bells, rung in a more, dare I say it, threatening and powerful cadence - Bong - Bong - Bong, devoid of any tune or cheerfulness.
In the evening the bells ring somewhere around, but without any apparent linkage, to 6:30pm - 7:00pm. Usually, we are finished feeding the cats when the bells begin, but sometimes he has, probably at the goading of the priest, rung the bells before we arrive.
If you like the bells, and if you do not rely on them for anything other than a reminder that you are in an Orthodox country, they provide a comforting backdrop to the day. Otherwise, well, they are a sudden intrusion unhinged from any specific time.
Maybe the bells here ring, at whatever time they do ring, as a vestigial exercise of control by the church. “We’re still here, and we still will intrude on your life, every day”. Don't plan your day around us, after all, we are the church, not the City Council or your employer. We are ringing to remind you to cross yourselves and think of God. Oh, and to remind you that your church needs you to send it a little gift of money every week, or we won’t be able to ring the bells.
