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The great bell called St Ferdinand at our diocesan cathedral tolls solemnly several times each month. Many years ago I heard the toll as my father’s casket was slowly pushed out toward its ultimate resting place. Each day the low sound of bells sound from Haiti to Hong Kong, from Reykjavik to Rio. Another soul committed by the Church to God. “Who?”, we sometimes ask. And, if we are truly perceptive, our mind hears the admonition of John Donne: “therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.”

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