Sermon at Saint Margaret’s Budapest (2024.09.29)
Pentecost 19, Year B - Michaelmas
Genesis 28:10-17; Psalm 124; Revelation 12:7-12; John 1:47-51
“And war broke out in heaven; Michael and his angels fought against the dragon. The dragon and his angels fought back, but they were defeated...”
Today we celebrate Michaelmas, short for “Michael’s Mass”, kept in honour of Saint Michael the archangel. Not having grown up in a “high church” tradition, it feels almost like an anachronistic concept, since I had never even heard of Michaelmas until I moved to Cambridge.
Moreover, the very idea of a feast day for an angel is fascinating, especially since for post-Enlightenment Christians their existence is called into question. Like dragons and genies, they seem like the stuff of folklore and mythology.
On the other hand, angels are found throughout the Bible, not just here and there, but in hundreds of different places. The two basic terms for angels, מַלְאָךְ (mal’ak) in Hebrew, and ἄγγελος (angelos) in Greek, appear over 400 times in the Old and New Testaments.
Additionally, there are many other terms the biblical writers use for angelic/heavenly beings, such as:
seraphim (שְׂרָפִים, e.g. Isa 6:2,4)
cherubim (כְּרוּבִים, e.g. Ezek 28:14-16)
‘living creatures’ (חַיּוֹת, in Ezek 1:5-28)
‘the host of heaven’ (צְבָא הַשָּׁמַיִם, e.g. 1Kgs 22:19)
‘holy ones’ (קְדֹשִׁים, e.g. Ps 89:5)
the ‘angel of the LORD’ (יְהוָה מַלְאַךְ, e.g. Gen 16:7-14)
‘Satan’, lit., ‘the satan’ (הַשָּׂטָן)
‘divine assembly,’ lit. ‘Assembly of El’, (עֲדַת־אֵל, e.g. Ps 82:1)
‘assembly of the holy ones’, (הַר־מוֹעֵ֖ד קְדֹשִׁים קְהַל, e.g. Ps 89:5)
‘council of the holy ones’, (סוֹד־קְדֹשִׁ֣ים, e.g. Ps 89:7)
‘sons of God/gods’, (אֱלֹהִים(הָ)בְנֵי־, e.g. Gen 6:2,4)
‘sons of gods, divine beings’, (בְּנֵי אֵלִים, e.g. Ps 29:1)
‘gods’ (אֱלֹהִים, e.g. Ps 82:1)
‘host, army’, ((־יְהוָה)צְבָא, e.g. Josh 5:14)
‘commander of the army of the LORD’, (שַׂר־צְבָא־יְהוָה)
While we typically think of angels as messengers – such as at the Annunciation – these various terms point to activities that go far beyond simply bearing good tidings. Perhaps most striking is this idea of a heavenly host or army that does battle on behalf of God, as in the story of Michael in the book of Revelation.
In English, when we hear “The Lord of Hosts,” we don’t immediately think of an army of angels prepared to fight in a war. “The Lord of Hosts” is much more pleasant sounding and is also partly why we aren’t so conscious of how often heavenly beings are referenced throughout the Bible, since these somewhat archaic English renderings tend to obscure what it is they refer to.
While the idea of Michael and his angels warring in heaven with the dragon and his respective evil heavenly army might seem very strange indeed to modern ears, it has deep roots in the Old Testament.
But why we are even talking about angels and heavenly wars. Isn’t the whole thing just a metaphor, anyway?
Yes, it certainly is a metaphor, but it goes beyond “mere metaphor.”
For part of my training, I spent a semester at a Roman Catholic seminary in Rome. One of my good friends there was Tom, a former Anglican vicar who was going through seminary a second time. A prolific writer and very bright, he had a keen interest in the miraculous and the supernatural.
Since I had a car, I ended up taking a few road trips with Tom for his research on places where something supernatural had purportedly transpired. One of the places we visited was Monte Sant’Angelo, a cave where the Archangel Michael was said to have appeared in the 5th century and instructed the bishop to dedicate as a place of worship, while promising to protect the nearby town from pagan invaders.
One of the things I admired about Tom was the courage of his conviction and the coherence of his life around it. Central to his thinking was that we ascribe to an inherently (and inexorably) supernatural faith, as opposed to a ritualised yet naturalistic ethical framework. And while he sometimes took things a step or two beyond where I would probably land theologically, he had the right instinct.
Those conversations with Tom served as an important reminder for me. Bracketing the supernatural in our world today has given rise to a sort of neo-agnosticism. Not a rejection of God, per se, as in the New Atheism, but a deep questioning of God’s activity in the world, not to mention our day-to-day lives.
Here, our unease with angels might serve as a signpost that we have taken a wrong turn, given their prevalence in the Bible and the central role they play in Christianity.
Take, for example, the nativity of Jesus. If the Archangel Gabriel had not visited Mary at the Annunciation, or an angel had not spoken to Joseph about her pregnancy, the more likely story would have ended with her being stoned for adultery.
The activity of angels, that is, an extension of the activity of God, is essential if we are to belief believe in the Incarnation, the coming of our Lord into this world
One of our other readings for today is the well-known story of Jacob’s ladder (or stairway). Strangely, the angels ascending and descending play no functional part in the story; it was God himself to spoke to Jacob. The angels were just there going about their business in the background. Perhaps that is a clue to part of its meaning.
Unlike other famous pilgrims in the Bible, Jacob didn’t set out to find God at a spiritually significant shrine. He simply set out to find a wife. And in the middle of nowhere – literally an unnamed place – Jacob encounters God. He wasn’t looking for God nor did he think he needed to look for God. While his odd decision to use a rock for a pillow might have prompted him to invoke God with some colourful Hebrew expressions, ultimately it was God who sought Jacob out.
Until that vision, Jacob was oblivious to what was going on around him in the spiritual realm. Angels were coming and going, doing who knows what, but were obviously engaged in something.
I wonder how often we like Jacob, doing our own thing – trying to find a wife or a job or money or whatever we think will make us happy – and yet are completely oblivious to what God is doing in and around us, right in front of our eyes.
Having deceived his father and cheated his own brother, Jacob didn’t deserve to be blessed. But God’s blessing wasn’t just for him; instead, through him, it would extend to all the families of the earth. Including to us.
God’s purposes were larger than Jacob, or we, can comprehend. The angels were coming and going, silently labouring to bring to fruition the Lord’s plan to redeem all humanity.
Perhaps today, far from being an antiquated festival, commemorating Saint Michael and all the angels is more important and culturally relevant than ever. Whatever we make of them, angels serve as a reminder that the visible, tangible world of science is not the whole story. The universe might seem dark, empty, and devoid of purpose, but that is simply due to the truncated lens we inherited from the Enlightenment.
Furthermore, if there are indeed angels and the battle is not just against flesh and blood, then we are called to something much greater than we often realise. Like Jacob, the blessing we have received is not meant to end with us.
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