Michaelmas is a celebration of the Archangel Michael/all angelic beings/the victory over Satan/all things angelic, depending on your tradition. Being new to a tradition that celebrates angels, in a non-Touched by and Angel manner, I am full of questions when it comes to angelic beings.
There’s a common question about angels meant to poke fun at heady theologians: How many angels can dance on the head of a pin? It is meant to tease academics for their often fruitless and pointless1 speculations. I actually like this question because it is the sort of fanciful question that leads to artistic speculation. Which means, I think it can help us ponder angels.
In fact, I think speculating on angels is a worldwide pastime. Most people are fascinated by angels or spirits and often, around a campfire of course, will partake in speculations of their own. We are intrigued by the strange Biblical descriptions but we are also transfixed by the notion of invisible powers. This fascination by the supernatural is probably the reason why ghost hunting shows are so popular.
I think Gustave Doré captures the mysterious innate nature of angelic beings best in his illustrations for Dante’s Paradiso:
Paradiso, 1867
by Gustave Doré
Paradiso Canto 31, 1867
by Gustave Doré
I don’t think God means for us to fully comprehend angels. Fear, often leading to wonder and awe, is the most common response of the people who see angels in Biblical accounts. Perhaps the point of contemplating spiritual beings is merely to sit with wonder. Perhaps that is why so few details are given about the divine warriors and messengers. Every time an angel comes up in the text I am left with more questions than answers.
The questions keep me coming back. Keep me wondering and imagining like Billy Collins:
Questions About Angels by Billy Collins Of all the questions you might want to ask about angels, the only one you ever hear is how many can dance on the head of a pin. No curiosity about how they pass the eternal time besides circling the Throne chanting in Latin or delivering a crust of bread to a hermit on earth or guiding a boy and girl across a rickety wooden bridge. Do they fly through God’s body and come out singing? Do they swing like children from the hinges of the spirit world saying their names backwards and forwards? Do they sit alone in little gardens changing colors? What about their sleeping habits, the fabric of their robes, their diet of unfiltered divine light? What goes on inside their luminous heads? Is there a wall these tall presences can look over and see hell? If an angel fell off a cloud, would he leave a hole in a river and would the hole float along endlessly filled with the silent letters of every angelic word? If an angel delivered the mail, would he arrive in a blinding rush of wings or would he just assume the appearance of the regular mailman and whistle up the driveway reading the postcards? No, the medieval theologians control the court. The only question you ever hear is about the little dance floor on the head of a pin where halos are meant to converge and drift invisibly. It is designed to make us think in millions, billions, to make us run out of numbers and collapse into infinity, but perhaps the answer is simply one: one female angel dancing alone in her stocking feet, a small jazz combo working in the background. She sways like a branch in the wind, her beautiful eyes closed, and the tall thin bassist leans over to glance at his watch because she has been dancing forever, and now it is very late, even for musicians.
Saint Michael Fighting the Dragon, ca. 1496-98
by Albrecht Dürer
Could Saint Michael slay the dragon on the dance floor of a pinhead while the rest of the heavenly host riff on an extended jazz tune for what seems like a couple millennia? Might they be waging this battle right over my head? Do cherubim’s really have wings covered in eyes? Are the Orthodox right to say there are nine orders of angels? Why can’t I see them? Do they ever get tired? Does God really need sword wielding winged warriors? Are there any angels who aren’t evil but might just be, you know, bad at their jobs? The list goes on…
Ultimately, the questions and artworks open me up to a broader expanse of possibilities. Here is one such possibility I encountered here on Substack (but I can’t find the source again!):
An Orthodox priest once said that when a child cries in church it might be that they are seeing angels.
Maybe, just maybe, the next time a child cries in church you might think of those heavenly servants striding up and down the aisles striking fear into those who have eyes to see. I wonder, is there an invisible window in the top of your church that opens on that undulating circle of angelic beings Doré etched?
Archangel Michael and the monk Archippus at Chonae, ca. 12th century
by Unknown artist
Thank God for his angelic servants. Thank God for their otherworldliness. Thank God for their steadfast faith in the Lord of hosts. Thank God for fanciful considerations of mysteries we are not meant to solve. Thank God for the wonder we encounter when we stare out into the vast expanse of the unknown and find that sometimes it welcomes us as fellow travelers, even if it doesn’t reveal all its secrets.
But all pins have points.
I love everything about this thought project. Also, I deeply hope other people are reading your footnotes.