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Rector's Easter Message 2006
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From Andrew's Net 2006
A few years ago during a cold spell, someone rang our oldest bell a little too vigorously. It cracked, and since then a pitiful thudding sound was all that it could manage. A sad state of affairs.
In December a team of experts from a company from Nottingham called Hayward Mills removed and transported it to Suffolk. Here it was repaired by a company called appropriately, 'Soundweld'! A few weeks ago, it was returned to its rightful place in the Bell Tower.
Unlike the other two bells, which were made in 1664 by Samuel Smith of York, we don't actually know where the bell came from. 
It is a treble bell and has a most unusual inscription on it - VTSN QP QEF. Earlier studies thought that these were simply an alphabet sequence, and that this was therefore an 'alphabet bell'. But this now seems unlikely. No one knows what these letters mean. Perhaps they are an abbreviation of some Latin phrase. So far the mystery is unsolved. Given that the bell is probably older than the Tudor period, one intriguing suggestion is that it might have come from Neasham Priory after it was dissolved in December 1540. Certainly the Parish of Haughton had strong connections with this Priory. Even so all we can say is 'maybe'.
On Palm Sunday we will rededicate the bell after the evening service. 
The funds needed were raised in honour of our late verger Bryan Robson, whose love of St Andrew's was well-known. While Bryan was never completely convinced that this was an alphabet bell, he certainly thought that it would be marvellous to hear its resonant sounds once more. A more fitting tribute to him could not be found.
So the ancient, mysterious treble bell will once more call us to worship God in St Andrew's Church. And in Holy Week, it will again summon us to remember God's mysterious sacrificial love. A love that is seen, not only in the life of Jesus, but supremely in his dying and rising. Here my thoughts turn to that great poem of R.S.Thomas, 'The Belfry', which compares our worship to that of the bell in winter:
I have seen it standing up grey, Gaunt, as though no sunlight Could ever thaw out the music Of its great bell; terrible In its own way, for religion Is like that. There are times When a black frost is upon One's whole being, and the heart In its bone belfry hangs and is dumb. But who is to know? Always Even in winter in the cold Of a stone church, on his knees Someone is praying, whose prayers fall Steadily through the hard spell Of weather that is between God And himself. Perhaps they are warm rain That brings the sun and afterwards flowers On the raw graves and throbbing of bells
I hope that you will join me in responding to the gentle ap-peal of the bell, and discover again the mysterious power of Holy Week which can move us from death to life, just like the movement from winter to spring.
David Bryan (Rector)
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