Flaviano is a grown man, one of "our boys."
His mother, now a widow, had only one choice before she died: to entrust him to the parish priest of their village.
So, as has happened countless times throughout the history of the Church in towns across the world, Flaviano became the sacristan of his beautiful church. Fully and truly, though he needed help, guidance, a measure of protection.
He still lives alone in his parents' house. A kind neighbor woman prepares his meals and looks after his clothes.
You should see him—always neat, always dressed in a fine suit with a tie, and on the great feast days, in a lovely black apron trimmed with gold.
He is proud and content in his work. He has learned every task well: opening and closing the church doors with absolute punctuality; ringing the bells—the small one, the large one, all together in celebration or rapid peals, each according to its meaning: the Ave Maria, catechism class, Mass, a funeral. He keeps the sacred objects gleaming and spotless, the pews and floors immaculate. (Others help him, of course.) He arranges the vestments and takes up the collection of offerings.
His face is solemn, perhaps a little sad. Yes—because now his priest, too, has left him, called to heaven. These past days, Flaviano felt lost. He thought he would be alone again. Who would care for him now?
But he was reassured. The new priest promised not to abandon him. And Flaviano, somewhat melancholy yet made strong by his innocence, returned to his work.
I was there the day Flaviano rang the bells in joyful celebration as his beloved protector passed into heaven. His eyes were red. He did not weep. I had only a few words to offer him for comfort. I squeezed his hand firmly, the way you do with another grown man. I asked him to keep ringing the bells with the same faithfulness as before.
In my heart, moved to tears, I thought that those pealing bells were a symbol, a message Flaviano was sending to so many brothers and sisters in the world: "It takes so little to keep us from feeling alone! Don't forget it!"
The sound of the bells faded away.
Who will hear the call in Flaviano's bells?
- Mariangela Bertolini, 1987