So I was sitting at the computer researching St. Michael
and All Angels—Chris must have said a couple of times this week— “I’m
glad I’m not preaching on those texts”—That’s always reassuring.
All the lessons are obviously selected to focus on Michael and All Angels—Angels
are not something I feel particularly well versed in and when you get to the
particulars of Angels with first names I know even less. Actually it’s
not so much that I know so little—I just don’t think about Angels
all that much. I have preached on Angels numerous times for over 25 years—most
typically around Christmas and Easter, One of my favorite Christmas sermons
explores a theme relating to angels—although it is entitled “When
the Angels stopped singing” and focuses on what the shepherds did on the
night of the first Christmas when the angel choir announcing the birth of Jesus
stopped singing and had gone away. I know that the first sermon I ever preached
on Angels was in 1975 while I was on internship in Chicago. I remember that
Billy Graham had just written a little book entitled Angels that I bought hoping
to find great insight on the subject—I remember being very disappointed.
A few years later the Biblical scholar Claus Westermann published a book on
angels that was a bit more enlightening with a subtitle something like “God’s
angels need no wings” which is when I fully grasped for the first time
how most angels in scripture appear not as winged wonders from beyond but as
all too familiar travelers or messengers. That is, after all, what the Hebrew
and Greek words for angel usually mean—a messenger—a messenger for
the king or God. A messenger from God in heaven to earth below—that is
probably why the traditional paintings and portrayal of angels quickly added
wings to explain how these messengers moved between heaven and earth.
My earliest memories of angels (as they probably are for most of us) come in two forms—the pictures in my Sunday school classes and characters in literature, movies and plays. I remember a very early Sunday school picture of the angel standing at the gates of Eden as Adam and Eve were cast out of the garden. The angel had a flaming sword and was huge—only later would I discover that tradition names that angel Michael and he often has a weight scale in his other hand to identify his role as the one who balances the good and evil works performed by humans to determine their judgment. On the pop culture side I remember numerous angels popping up on the shoulders of cartoon characters to argue against the temptation the character was facing—And then there was the angel Clarence who anyone watching television around Christmas time encountered for years in the classic movie It’s a Wonderful Life. That was when we learned that every time a bell rings another angel receives his wings.
Popular culture kept adding angels to my world—I remember a number of Precious Moments figures that somehow came into my life about the same time as children—as if any of my children had anything in common with a Precious Moments figurine. And then there was the angel publishing craze of a few years ago spurred on I think by the television program Touched by an Angel and a number of books about angels appearing among us. There was also the less than traditional portrayals of angels in movies like Angels in the Outfield, Michael and Dogma—and there are those Victoria's Secret ads which are definitely not your typical Sunday school angels. It seems the popular culture goes through cycles of interest in things religious and angels are one of the periodically re-occurring themes. So I was sitting at my computer researching St. Michael and All Angels and a voice comes from behind me observing, “Tough sermon. What can you say about Angels?” I nodded in agreement.
While the subject may be of occasional interest it is not exactly an exciting or controversial topic. Basically what I found was a lot of very holy web sites with ornate pictures and overly wordy prayers venerating ethereal saints. Michaelmas was the name given to September 29 in the ancient church. In the medieval church it was a day of obligation when worship attendance by the faithful was expected. The purpose of the day was to recognize the three angels in particular who are actually named in the Bible—Michael, Gabriel and Raphael—and by association all angels. Our Lutheran church has kept the designation of a day set aside to remember Michael and All Angels on the 29th of September so when this date falls on a Sunday we give it special pause. This doesn’t happen all that often—As a result the lessons we hear read today are not especially familiar. The fact that Michael’s name stands out in the naming of this day is not an accident. By tradition the church has identified Michael as the archangel—the chief or leading angel.
In our first lesson Daniel identifies Michael as on of the chief princes opposing the god of the Persians—In time Michael became the prince of the Seraphim—which is the highest rank of all heavenly beings—In the Old Testament tradition the angel Michael is identified first as the protector of the Jews in exile in Babylon in the 6th Century before Christ—He then becomes the protector of the Christian Church in the time of the Apostles. The eternal story of God contains references to Michael from beginning to end—Michael stood guard at the beginning of the world in the book of Genesis and battled the forces of darkness described in Revelation—the final book of the Bible. This is a rich poetic and literate tradition that some of the greatest writers of the world have embraced—like John Milton and James Joyce. But there really is the question, when all is said and done, of “So what? Who really cares about angels?”
As we look at the world around us the inevitable answer to this question is that we care. A world without angels is a world without hope. That is why we care—because of what angels mean to the world. Not that there is another realm of beings beyond our familiar and known world but that there is more to our world then meets the eye—more meaning—more purpose—more hope. With the exception of three or four angels who are identified by name—the identity of an angel is not found in their being but in what they do. St. Augustine observed that “Angels are spirits, but it is not because they are spirits that they are angels. They become angels when they are sent. For the name angel refers to their office, not to their nature.” So it was that angels were sent to Abraham and Sarah to tell them that God was fulfilling the promise of the covenant and they would have a child and the beginning of a great people. So it was that an angel appeared to Moses in the flame of a burning bush and Moses turns aside from his shepherd calling to return to Egypt and lead a nation-people forth toward a promised land. So it was that an angel appeared to another aging couple announcing the birth of John the Baptist and other angels appear to Mary, Joseph, shepherds and wise men to announce the birth of Jesus. So also angels minister to Jesus numerous times over the course of his life until finally it is an angel who tells the women that Jesus is no longer in the tomb but risen.
The role of angels is first and foremost that of messengers for God. They most often bring a word of hope and promise fulfilled although they also can carry a word of judgment against human sin. There is a clear sense that the power of God’s word is to preserve and protect us from all harm. The protective angel—the guardian angel—sent by God to deliver from harm's way—the guardian angel sent to sustain those who are persecuted and oppressed—the delivering angel from God providing a moment of grace against all odds—those instances that can only be described in the language of miracle. A world without angels is a world with hope. That is why there are angels—we cannot live without hope—we cannot live without angels. And the wonder of it all is that we know this to be true—without any conclusive scientific evidence—without the proof of video documentation—yet the overwhelming majority of us do not just believe in angels but know there existence to be true. You can check it out—Ask the person sitting in front of you and behind you and beside you if they have ever had an experience that can only be explained by granting the existence of angels—This is not the kind of things we talk about but I am willing to bet I know what they will tell you—If they are truly honest they will have to admit that there have been some moments in their lives when they were struggling—troubled—in danger—at risk—close to despair—or in pain—and there came this person—this moment—when they suddenly felt—knew—experienced—a grace moment that brought hope—direction—meaning—purpose—promise to them. In some cases we can name the face of the one who comes—but it is equally possible that the messenger of hope is unknown.
There are so many stories to be told about angels—most sound down right corny or miraculously unbelievable. The hand that pulls one back from danger—the accident that should have been fatale or at least crippling—the lost that was found—the piece that fits and completes the whole—the voice—the words—the presence that was so right. We can almost hear the rustle of wings—the angels who catch us unawares. This is Michaelmas—an ancient festival of the church celebrating something that no one talks about all that much and yet—a world without angels is a world without hope. We need our angels—as much as we ever have—we need our guardian angels to protect our children—we need our guiding angels to show a lost world the way—we need our angels of power and might to stand firm for justice and peace against the terrors of destructive wars. Jesus gave his followers authority to tread on all the power of the enemy—this is the mighty battle that Michael calls us all to join in—to slay the dragons of our world—the forces of darkness—to turn to the light of Christ. A world without angels is a world without hope.
So I was sitting at my computer researching St. Michael and All Angels and a voice comes from behind me noting, “Tough sermon. What can you say about Angels?” And I found myself answering, “Yeah, I don’t even know where to begin the sermon.” “Why not begin with that,” came the reply. “Just start with what you know.” So I began to type. After a few minutes I looked around the room and realized that there was no one around—The house was empty—And yet I didn’t feel alone.
Amen.