Angels are part of the Christmas story, in Luke & Matthew, speaking and singing to shepherds and sleepers alike. Both Mary & Joseph hear from angels of the Lord, messengers of God.
Some are named, like Gabriel, others part of a heavenly host, a solid phalanx of angelic representatives.
I like how angels can appear in dreams, or in person; in the air, or behind closed doors. They are wherever God wants them to be; they speak for God, and keep the plans of God on track.
Jesus is not an angel; those who die are not transformed into angels although folk spirituality has created that impression. You could debate at length the nature and make-up of a heavenly host, which perhaps includes both angels and the saints in glory, all mixed together in a chorus of celebration.
What angels are is the Word of God made active; messenger is a close approximation of the Hebrew or Greek we translate into our English word which is mostly a transliteration of the Greek. “Messengers divinely appointed and empowered” is a wordy way to translate “angelos” or “mal’akh” but it helps to get away from the sweet faced winged robe-wearer, which is the visually “wordy” way we see angels when we think of them.
“Angels bending near the earth” is the carol’s phrase, evoking their heavenly home while pointing out where they’re at work, right here. A perennial challenge of the Christmas season is to get to where we “in solemn stillness” can get ourselves to that we might “hear the angels sing.”
We may not talk about “cloven skies” as that Unitarian minister did in 1849 for his lyrics, a war ending in Mexico and peace, then as now, elusive, but we share with Rev. Sears a desire to “rest beside the weary road, and hear the angels sing.” Over the cacophony of our world’s “Babel sounds, the blessed angels sing” but we have to listen, we have to hear with open ears, welcoming hearts, in order to notice that God’s messengers really are at work in the world. Angels, yes, some noticeable; some, well, as Hebrews 13:2 says “Forget not to show love unto strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.”
Angels may sing through classic carols and new, contemporary praise songs; they’re even more likely to be encountered through those you help or even, God help us, those we let help ourselves. God can use almost anyone, even any donkey or ox or lamb, as a messenger, but kindly person is perhaps the most likely to be a messenger, intended or otherwise, unawares or entirely mindful.
We have angels in the art at the courthouse, whispering something I’m still straining to hear; there are angels at work in the streets, on Saturdays at noon along Main Street or evenings at the Salvation Army, on Sundays in churches and on any given Tuesday in the most unexpected of places. The world in solemn stillness waits, perhaps, to hear the angels speak of good will; to hear fellow creatures sing for joy, to hope for peace on earth, in angelic music or more earthly whispered reassurances.
May you never drive faster than your guardian angel can fly, as the old saying goes, and may your hearing never grow so dim as to not be able to hear the angels singing.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; he’s glad to run into angels even when they have to remind him to be not afraid. Tell him what you hear them singing at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.