Since the installation of Yahweh and the Seraphim at the Minster
(here for the next three months), I’ve had at least four conversations about
God and faith every day, with visitors to the building or members of our
congregation.
As it happened, today’s
conversations were all about angels. More than one visitor said, “I know who
Yahweh is – that’s God…” [God, as revealed in the Old Testament] “…but what are
seraphim?” – followed by lots of questions as to what we might know about
angels.
And of course, while angels
appear in the Bible, and in various Jewish, Christian, and Muslim writings, ‘angelology’
tends to build more weight than our sources can fully bear. As it happens, I
can speak of personal experience of seeing – or, at least, of being aware of –
angels; but I can claim no expert knowledge.
When it comes to speaking of
angels, we are grasping for familiar words to describe the unfamiliar; vaguely-close
images with which to convey what we see only at the very edge of our vision, half-visible,
but cannot look directly upon – for when we try to, they vanish.
This indirect language is all
we have, to speak of things such as the monsters that lurk beneath our beds, or
the love that vanquishes them. No one believes that the one they love is really
comparable to a summer’s day; but then again, “I notice, with appreciation,
that you still put up with me despite the fact that I must annoy you at times”
doesn’t quite do love justice.
What are the things that can
only be seen out of the corner of our eye; that can only be described by
visionaries?
And why would they even
matter?
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