We remember that in the 1990s (it could have been earlier) there was an unaccounted for interest in angels. One remembers avidly watching a trilogy of Christopher Walken movies in which the actor plays the angel Gabriel.
The thing couldn’t have been anything but a fad – but there again we can be wrong, what do we know. Nonetheless it’s pretty clear that the vogue has passed.
We’ll hazard a serious, OK severe, remark. The Walken angel movies, though beguiling enough — we watched all — were light, intended to entertain, and lacked depth, lacked seriousness.
For who seriously takes angels these modern days?
A few years ago I got to know a girl in university telling me that Richard Dawkins was one of the three greatest minds on the planet. If mistaken, that didn’t sound dumb, not at all, but it made you feel how atheism has won the day among many of the bright young.
The best description of angels that we’ve come across comes from, of all places, sci-fi.
‘…I saw no wings on these angels, and that filled me with a great satisfaction. I have always regarded angels’ wings as a human invention, and a poor one at that….In order to believe in angels — we must imagine possible angels….I saw two very subdued brightnesses…somewhere between a delicate lilac and a faint pink. But the essential thing was the form of these brightnesses. I might best describe them as two moving cloaks or draperies that swept along at my side in utter silence…these faintly gleaming draperies seemed to conceal human forms, and magnificent forms at that. At times the drapery outlined a pointed knee, a powerful thigh, a small foot, a melodious elbow, a masculine chest, and as quickly the drapery concealed it….I could not distinguish faces…the two beings did not express themselves to that extent. Now and then, however, I had the impression of noble heads behind veils, of heads with streaming crimson hair of flame.
‘The brightnesses…the pale lilac and faint rose draperies, began to undulate and billow, and the hint of human forms became more distinct, even to the delineation of strong masculine faces framed in fluttering red hair.’
The angelology of ancient Iran bequeathed to us the teaching that humans, us, are angels who have come down to earth from heaven — i. e., we are spirits made flesh. That we can speak of going to heaven is warranted by our origin: only what comes from heaven can return to heaven.
In his descent (not fall) each mortal, human person leaves behind (more precisely, above) what’s more than his trace in heaven — he has left his heavenly twin: his true self.
The heavenly twin is a man’s (or woman’s) assurance that dust is not his/her ultimate destiny.
But the thing is reciprocal. A man answers for his celestial twin with his actions.
For the angel is him.
At the end of his sojourn on earth, he goes to the Cinvat Bridge that joins heaven and earth, time and eternity. His twin, his angel, his self will be on hand to meet him.
Vangelis and Jon’s rock collaboration ‘Long Ago, So Clear’ comes close to rendering this moment in music.
But (here the angelology makes one shudder) it may not always be that the angel waits just around the bend.
The angel may not be there.
As the angel is responsible for one, one is responsible for the angel. It is a grave — pun intended — responsibility. A demon, instead, might be waiting. That demon is him.
According to the angelology, we are only potential angels and potential demons.
___________________________________
Author’s email: [email protected]
