(Sent to The Nationalist, 02 April 2007)
Do angels exist? For one answer see the end of this article. But first, what is an angel anyway? The white robe, the fluffy wings, the fair hair, and the halo are the creation of an artistic imagination; they are not meant to be descriptive. No one can prove, or disprove, angels’ existence. As archaeologists say, ‘Absence of evidence is not evidence of absence.’
An early Christian saint wrote something interesting about angels: ‘It must be realized that the word “angel” is the name of an office, and not of a nature.’ (Pope Saint Gregory the Great, Homily 34.8-9) It’s the name of a job, a function, an office. The original meaning of the word is “messenger.”
Well-known names of angels are Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, Daniel, Samuel, Israel, Emmanuel, all names that end in – el. El is the short for Elohim, a Hebrew word meaning God. They are seen as manifestations of God.
I met an angel one time. It was in Africa. I had been travelling all day, having been misdirected in unfamiliar territory. (I suspect I was delib-erately misdirected by a man to whom I gave a lift, and who wanted easy transport to his home; but that’s another story.) Towards evening, I ran out of fuel. In Africa, that’s quite a predicament. I could have been stuck there on the road for a day or more before another vehicle came. The possibility of dehydration over that time was real. I was too far from the mission to walk. What to do? I prayed, saying to God, ‘I’m here doing your work. This is what has landed me in this problem. I think you have a moral obligation to get me out of trouble.’ (I learned that holy blackmail from the bible!)
After a very short time, I heard the sound of an engine, and into view came a vehicle owned by a shopkeeper whom I had helped with fuel on previous occasions. But would he have fuel to spare? And would it be petrol or diesel? He stopped, and we greeted each other. (In Africa, where there’s no greeting, there’s no meeting.) I told him of my problem. He heaved a jerry can of fuel – the kind I needed – out of his vehicle, made a remark about one good turn deserving another, and went on his way after a round of thanks and farewells. I poured the jerry can of fuel into my vehicle and drove home. He was an angel, a messenger from God; angel is the name of an office. Thank you, God. As Patrick Kavanagh wrote, ‘God is in the bits and pieces of Everyday’. (The Great Hunger, VI.)
Do angels exist? Or do you think we’re the best God can do?