1 The New Pastor

Bernard worked hard to get the bells in the church tower swinging. Their sound rang out loudly into the narrow mountain valley. What weighed him down was not the inertia of the heavy bronze bells, which **** him to put all his weight on the rope to get them swinging. The real burden was the inertia of the people. Not a single soul had come to the holy masses he celebrated since he had taken up his duties here weeks ago as the new pastor of the small, lonely little church on a hilltop above the village.

Nevertheless, he did his duty bravely. He told himself that the remote valleys were home to a reserved, untrusting people who were slow to respond to change. The bishop had also warned him that it would not be easy to replace the old priest, who had been held in high esteem in the community. He just had to give his new flock a little time. Then they would come to him and realize that he was a good shepherd.

After all, it was his first investiture. They didn't know what to expect from him. Meanwhile, he approached them in the conviction that he could only expect trust from the people if he showed it to them first.

To his surprise, he received a friendly welcome in all the houses in the village. People spoke to him, asked politely where he came from and how he was. Often he was even invited for a meal when he entered the farmhouses.

But when he brought up the subject of the church above the village and the services he wanted to hold there, the conversations always stopped abruptly. All his efforts to find out the reason for this were to no avail. It was as if a wall of silence had been erected around the subject that could not be breached.

Over time, he began to doubt himself. Was it his inexperience that made it impossible for him to find the key to their hearts? Or was he perhaps even personally completely unsuited to the priesthood? Had the calling he thought he had felt when he decided to become a priest perhaps simply been a huge mistake?

These thoughts ran through his mind as he leaned into the bell ropes to call a congregation that would not follow him. He wasn't ready to give up yet, but the doubt gnawed deep inside him. How much longer could he hold out? When would he have to reveal himself to his bishop and ask to be relieved of the pastorate?

As the last chimes died away, he made his way from the bell tower to the sacristy. Of course, he hadn't found an altar boy, altar servers or anyone else who would have been willing to help him in the church and with the preparations. So he had to do everything himself.

In the beginning, he had first dressed in his liturgical vestments and then rung the bells so that he would be fully prepared when the first worshippers answered his call and streamed into the church. The heavy, unfamiliar work had left him hot and sweaty every time. So he would stand in the draughty, empty church in full regalia, but alone, covered in cold sweat and shivering, waiting for people who would not come.

Fortunately, he was young and strong, so his constitution prevented him from falling ill. Nevertheless, he decided that he could not go on like this. He learned from his mistake and from then on went to ring the bells dressed only in a simple white linen shirt and his black pants, rolled up his sleeves and got stuck in. Just like today. On the way through the empty nave, the footsteps of his hard soles echoed off the walls.

The light of the low evening sun fell through the wide open portal and bathed the room in an orange-red light, as if the church was on fire. The play of colors impressed him and he decided to postpone dressing for a while to watch the sunset.

He stood upright on the walled square in front of the church door, enjoying the warmth of the sun's rays on his skin and shading his eyes with one hand against the bright light. Oh, Lord, he prayed, thank you for letting the sun rise every day to drive away the shadows of the night. I ask you to dispel the shadows on my soul too.

The fiery ball moved impressively fast towards the mountain on the opposite side of the valley. The more of the bright disk was cut off by the sharp ridge, the longer and deeper the shadows became. And when the sky light had completely disappeared, Bernard was shrouded in pitch darkness.

When he turned back to the open portal, which gaped at him like a toothless mouth, he found the blackness and emptiness behind it more oppressive than ever before. With the last meagre remnants of his hope, he looked all around to see if a single being was approaching from somewhere. If it wasn't a person, perhaps at least a dog, a goat or a small bird would visit him.

But there was no movement anywhere.

“If only someone would come!” he shouted, raising his hands to the sky, ”I would let anyone in and welcome them wholeheartedly into my church!”

Then he dragged himself into the building with sagging shoulders.