A Voice for the One Who Couldn't Hear

Not every strange thing by the church comes from the unclean powers. Sometimes it's just a human heart beating so hard that even the bell sings along. I heard a story about Ostap the sexton. A stern, silent man, he smelled of incense, damp earth and cold stone. And every spring he did a strange thing: he carried a long blue ribbon up the bell tower.

Up the old stairs Ostap climbed, though his knees creaked so badly the bell tower itself might have pitied him. One end of the ribbon he tied near the bell's clapper, and the other he let out so that it hung down from the arch of the bell tower. The village, of course, began to buzz. Some said he was driving off witches, so the milk wouldn't sour. Others - that he was calling a stork to build its nest on the cross.

Ostap himself only scowled at the questions and grumbled that not every business was meant for other people's noses. And the strangest part began on Sunday. When he pulled the rope, the bell didn't simply toll. Just before the bronze struck, there came a soft rustle: sh-sh-sh. As if someone great exhaled up in the heights, or a bird unfolded its wing. People crossed themselves and whispered that it was a sign.

Hanna was his wife. After a bad fever, while still young, she had lost her hearing. She heard neither the singing, nor the bells, nor her husband's voice. But every Sunday she sat on that bench and watched the bell tower. When the blue ribbon shivered with the bell's swing and came out from under the arch, Hanna smiled. She knew: the service was over, Ostap would soon come down. That was his voice for her.

Hanna is gone, but the ribbon is new every spring. The village still spins its tales about witches, storks and the harvest, while the old sexton simply sends a greeting to where sound is no longer needed. Not every strange thing is superstition. Sometimes it is love that didn't give up when its voice was taken away. It learned to rustle with a ribbon - so it could be seen even through the silence.