Robbing the Bell Tower, a Parable

The Bell Tower stood like an old man in the sun.

It was slender and strong, with arm-like supports flanking each side. At the top, a narrowing forehead housing a brilliant mind, sounding down on the town like a lighthouse shines on the sea.

For most of the townsfolk the Tower was a cornerstone holding all things together – it was always in sight, no matter what trials rocked the day or the life. And its heralding gong was both the welcome sound of certainty – because time is constant – and the unwelcome sound of change – because trouble will come.

Often, when dangers did present themselves, such as a ferocious windstorm or an approaching army, the Bell would ring. It would ring three times, and three times only, in these kinds of cases. It would ring, perhaps on a quarter hour, and everyone would know that it was danger and not time that brought the resounding alarm.

There would be a universal fleeing to home and safety.

Which is to say, the Bell Tower was so very necessary.

But once, there was a ring on a 23rd minute, a ring that sounded unlike any other – not the sustained song of noontime, nor the abrupt alarm of gathering stormclouds, but a single gong, an empty ring.

Everyone stopped to grab sight of the Tower when nothing followed the first sound.

But both sound and sight had escaped.

The Bell was gone.

The old man’s mind, as it were, emptied.

At once, there was a rushing movement among the people to discern what had happened, with shrill cries of “Someone robbed the Bell Tower!” reverberating off of the cobblestone and brick.

For the entire afternoon, there was panic and fright, even mourning and tears, until finally a meeting was called at the Town Hall by the elders of the city.

“Contrary to popular opinion,” said one elder, “there has not been a robbery here.”

Smiling knowingly, another said, “No. No robbery. But there is a change afoot.”

A change.

Amidst a rumbling of voices among the townsfolk, a town elder who is also the town judge announced, “The bell is gone because we have decided to put a clock in its stead.”

“There need be no more rushing to and fro at the sound of ringing and gongs – it is simply not precise enough for life in the town today. Instead, we will learn to live by the precise time shown by the hands of the clock.”

“But what about the alarm?” yelled several townsfolk.

“That, too, needs to change. An approaching army is not the same as a windstorm. From hereon out, an elder will stand watch in the tower at all times to be aware of any approaching dangers. And we will send teams to calmly announce any legitimate alarm throughout the town in precise terms, so that everyone knows precisely what kind of response should be taken.”

—

He who has ears, let him hear.