Analog Theology: Part I

What you are reading is not words. It's a collection of one's and zero's that my computer sent to a server, which sent it to your computer, to put back together into a group of tiny dots of light that are meant to look like words to your brain.

The same is true of all digital media: print, music, film, art, whatever. It's all possible because of binary code, which at its most basic is millions and even billions of "yes" or "no" questions being asked and answered by computers. That's how digital photography works: the image the photographer's eye sees, gets recorded and taken apart into billions of little pieces, then put back together again on your computer. Same with CD's and MP3's: a singer sings into a microphone, and the actual voice of the singer gets taken apart into very tiny pieces. So tiny that you can't tell the difference and it sounds like one piece coming out of your computer speakers.

That's part of why I enjoy having inherited my parents' turntable. That is analog technology, which works differently. Instead of breaking up the sound wave, what happened was that back in the day, Dave Brubeck and his band made sound waves with their instruments, and the recording equipment did its best to actually capture their sound wave as a whole, then transfer it in one piece onto a physical object: a vinyl record. When the band played louder, the groove in the record is deeper, and when they quieted down, it gets shallow. an "A" note is a different physical shape in the groove than a "C" note. Quite literally, the aim was to create a one-to-one analogy (eh, see what I did there?) between actual event and physical object. Some people (including my dad) can hear the difference. They say even listening to the best digital recording is like watching the Mona Lisa on television rather than traveling to Paris to see it. I guess I didn't inherit the sound gene, but I do appreciate the difference on a philosophical level, and I love going down into my basement--a place set apart--to stop multitasking, and make time for music. (I am in fact going somewhere with this, so bear with me.)

It occurs to me that reality is not digital. It is analog. It is shapes and waves. It is light, at a particular frequency, with a particular wave length, hitting our rods and cones and being transferred by chemical reaction to our brain. It is sound waves of a particular frequency shaking the air and making our eardrums vibrate. It is not one or two, but millions of kinds of molecules, made from not one or two, but at least 92 naturally occurring elements. It is human beings: made of DNA, from not one or two but four base molecules, combined in not one or two but billions of possible combinations. Even at the subatomic level, there are more than 2 base particles. Even when we're asking about long stretches of space, and wondering if there's something there as opposed to nothing: Well, with the discovery of dark matter, we realize that even what we saw as "nothing" is yet another variety of "something." This can not be broken down into one's and zero's and remain intact. We can break it down into a million, a billion, a trillion yes or no questions, and the whole will still be more than the sum of its parts. Reality is analog, not digital. It's one piece, that can't be broken down. It's not black or white, but a whole spectrum of color. That's why they can build a computer that can beat the world's best chess player, but fifteen years later, they can not make Siri "get" you.

The reason this matters to me is that I believe God wants it this way. That's not to say I don't believe in computers. (I'm using one to type this, for goodness' sake!) It's to say that long before computers were around, we began a desperate effort to divide things up into a long series of yes or no questions--good or evil, black or white, saved or condemned--and by the nature of God's creation, it can't be done. What we'll come up with is a clumsy, pixelated version of reality. An Atari 2600 graphic rendering of Niagara Falls.

In the very beginning, there was only darkness and chaos, and nothing was any different from anything else, and the first thing God did was make something different: "let there be light." and on the second day there still wasn't enough difference, so the waters below and above the dome of sky got separated. Then land and sea, and plants, and sea and land creatures, etc., etc., etc., all the way to humankind, in not one but two genders at the same time, because diversity is how God works. God does not intend a creation, nor a humanity, that can be broken down into a series of "yes's" and "no's", and thus, I'd be very surprised indeed if God in Godself can be, either. Not in Megabytes, or Gigabytes or Terabytes. So I'd like to do a little theology in the weeks to come, based on the assumption that reality is analog, and so is God, and so our conversation has to get beyond one's and zero's, beyond "yes's" or "no's", into asking what shape our thoughts and words and actions might take, were they truly imprinted--albeit imperfectly--by the unified shape and image of the Lord of Hosts. I hope you'll join me.

"See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil..."

For Christmas, as a gift rom my wife, I received a copy of the "Lego New Testament." It is exactly what it purports to be. Illustrated and told by artist Brendan Powell Smith, this book is a graphic novel interpretation of the entire New Testament, as told through staged photos of Lego characters. Looking at the cover, you'd expect it to be kind of cute, charming and funny. It is in a few places. But overall--and I learned this the hard way, i.e., from my kid's interest in it--it is actually pretty gruesomely violent.

Now, on the one hand, I have to cry "fowl" on some counts, because I feel Smith may just be drawn to the gorier stories. He rarely if ever misses an opportunity to portray violence, even in parables and even at times in which it's implicit at best in the text itself. And of course, it's a very strange New Testament indeed that skips over every single Epistle--including all their messages of love, reconciliation and God's grace--and yet devotes the last 80 pages of the book to recreating Revelation in all its horrific detail.

But on the other hand, as a lectionary preacher as part of a denomination that favors the Revised Common Lectionary, I have to also be aware of the plank in my own eye. If Smith is telling the Quentin Tarantino version of the New Testament, we may also be accused of telling the Disney version. Small wonder that so many of our folks believe in a "New Testament God": You know, the blissed-out, loving one who never gets upset but rather consistently burps therapeutic sunshine into our lives, regardless of any sin or injustice we make ourselves party to. We worship the nice God, who so loved the world. Not the mean, vengeful, "go up that hill and sacrifice your son 'cause I said so" God. I was well into my adult life before I cracked open my Bible--not just in the prophets, but in the prophetic teachings of Jesus himself--and pondered the fact that God actually does occasionally get upset, and that what we do actually does matter, even though we are forgiven of it.

So I'll not mince words: The New Testament is gory. Read it. I mean, for goodness' sake, its very center--and the place where orthodox Christians of all stripes get our bearings--is a man nailed to a tree to die of exposure. But it does not follow that we serve a violent God, much less that God commands or condones violence on our part. In fact, I would venture to say that violence throughout the New Testament is much more a red flag of warning than a checkered flag of "go get-em." It says: "This is who we have become. This is what we do to each other. This is who God has come to save." It does not shrink away from the consequence of sin. Sin hurts. It hurts like hell, literally. And Jesus bore the full brunt of it.

So no, you needn't call CPS: I do not intend to read through the entire Lego New Testament with my kids: not until they are much, much older. But especially in light of the grim and gruesome reminders we've received from Boston to Afghanistan to Syria, I do intend to be real with my kids about the violence that exists out there: that people do very bad things to each other, and that some of those bad things can never be taken back. I intend to let them know that the Bible--both Old and New Testament--does, in fact, have some very relevant teachings about the world in which we live. That violence is real, and that when you stand against it, you can be assured that it will get much, much worse before it gets better. But the way of Jesus--the way of peace, of nonviolent public witness to injustice, of telling the truth about injustice and accepting the consequences--does, in fact, work. An empty cross and an empty tomb, even in our violent world, bear eternal witness to that.

Turning the Other Cheek in the Public Sphere

So, I was inspired this week by a Saturday Night Live skit that I wasn't even aware of when it first aired, but became aware of from the angry Christian backlash. It was a skit called "Djesus Uncrossed," a parody of Quentin Tarantino's films, Django Unchained, Inglourious Basterds, and...the passion and resurrection of Jesus. You'll notice I did not link it. Watch it if you want, but you may well find it offensive. Suffice it to say it contains Jesus engaging in grisly Tarantino-style violence. Now, I did this as a fan of both SNL and of Tarantino's films, although I admit both are often cringe-worthy and certainly meant for adult audiences only. But I also did it as a discipleship training exercise, in responding in the way I think the Jesus I know from the Gospels teaches. In other words, I'm not out for blood. I'm hoping to speak the truth in love. So here's what I put in the piddly little "comments" box that NBC provides for such feedback:


An Open Letter to NBC, Lorne Michaels and the SNL Writing Staff

I am a Christian pastor writing in response to your skit of Feb. 16, “Djesus Uncrossed”. Just from that, you may think you know what I'm going to say, But please hear me out, because I want to respond to your skit not in anger, but the way I feel Jesus taught his followers to respond when they feel disrespected.

First off, Jesus taught me not to point out someone else's minor faults until I acknowledge my own major ones. So here goes...I acknowledge that Christians have often made a mess of things in history. I actually chuckled a little when your mock-review said the fictional film was “a less violent Passion of the Christ.” Both in fantasy and in reality, the followers of Jesus are guilty of appalling violence in history, and this is much more disgusting than anything you could write for a comedy show. Also, both historically and in our own time, Christians are often guilty of having no sense of humor. Know that I do, in fact, get the joke: the Quentin Tarantino revenge fantasy thing, the fact that your whole point was this was Jesus acting out of character. And as another person who's had a weekly “writing gig,” I know you're not going to bat 1,000. But this time I'm definitely not laughing.

And it's not because I feel “persecuted.” Look, I have global brothers and sisters who risk arrest or death every day just by following Jesus and praying to him. It would be a major slap in their face for me to count your comedy skit that I could turn off at any moment (and that I admit I didn't even catch when it first aired) as “persecution.” I wouldn't do that to them by elevating what you do to that level.

But I do feel disrespected. I feel slammed. And instead of slamming back, I want to turn the other cheek and give you some more fodder for ridicule. Let me tell you about the guy you're making fun of. This is a guy who hung out with the people in his time who it was OK to disrespect and mock, to hate, and even kill. This is a guy who put his reputation on the line every day, not by tearing these folks down, but by lifting them up. This is a guy who committed an act of civil disobedience at a time when political change seemed completely impossible, but he did it anyway. Specifically, he let himself be publicly executed though he had not committed a crime, and while he was dying, and getting made fun of in the process, he prayed out loud for God to forgive the people doing it.

This is a guy who inspired people through the generations, and created more change by dying than any dictator ever did by killing. This is a guy who inspired protesters, abolitionists, and people struggling for freedom through history, including Frederick Douglass, Oscar Romero and Martin Luther King, Jr. In a real way, this is a guy to whom we owe some of the rights and freedoms we enjoy today.

So I'm not going to say anything negative about you or your craft. In fact, I'm a fan. I just want to say something positive about the guy you're making fun of. And if that makes you want to make fun of me, that's OK. He taught me that sometimes being mocked is a good thing.

Kind regards,

The Rev. Timothy Jahn

“Bring it on down to Gospelville”

Training for the Real Thing

"Always be ready to make your defense to anyone who demands from you an account of the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and reverence. Keep your conscience clear, so that, when you are maligned, those who abuse you for your good conduct in Christ may be put to shame." 1 Peter 3:15-16

Okay. Let me start by offering my sincere sympathy to the city of San Francisco, and 49ers fans in general, in your time of grief...

And let me continue by saying, "GO RAVENS!" I was blessed to watch the big game with dear friends in Greektown, who were diehard football fans and able to tutor Laura and me in some of the subtleties of the game that might otherwise have been, *ahem,* lost on such fair-weather fans as ourselves. :-) I was also blessed to undertake the 2 hour ride back to Catonsville, right up Broadway in Fells Point, and witness the pure joy of thousands of enthusiastic fans. It was well worth the sleep lost.

But I have to say I'm a little troubled, and here's why (for the short of attention span, start it up around 3:10 to see what I'm talking about.)



So here's what I'm thinking...

First of all, this post is absolutely NOT about what Ray Lewis knows or does not know, what he did or did not do thirteen years ago. I think he himself would agree that at this point that's between him and God.

But while we're on the subject of God, my conflict is this: it is kind of my main job to encourage people to live their faith out loud. To become naturals at talking about it, and more importantly acting on it, so that others may see what they do and glorify God. That's exactly what Ray Lewis has done on a number of occasions this season, and I commend him for it. But...

I frankly am not sure what God Ray Lewis is talking about. Is he talking about a God who allowed this act of violence to happen in the first place? Or a God who would somehow not have been glorified had the refs made a different call in the 4th quarter and San Francisco had taken the trophy home? Or a God who has no problem at all with children every bit as loved by their parents as mine are, having no clean water to drink, but who is absolutely glued to the heavenly TV set to be sure his guy Ray and the Ravens emerge victorious? I think you see where I'm headed here.

See, I don't believe in that God. And I don't have much to go on, but I assume if Mr. Lewis really thought and prayed about it, neither would he. If God could use Saul of Tarsus, who had the blood of more than one early Christian believer on his hands, I'm fairly sure God can use whomever God pleases to God's glory. And while we're at it, the God who weeps with mothers who have lost their children, who dwells with us in our utmost pain, who went to the cross to redeem our broken lives from sin and death, probably cares less about the outcome of the game, and more about whether or not those who believe and follow him are doing their utmost to relieve that suffering. Ray says he is, and I don't intend to say otherwise.

But here's the real point I want to get to...see, Ray Lewis is not a trained theologian or preacher. I don't expect him to start quoting Reinhold Neibuhr or Karl Barth when he gets into the spotlight. But it just so happens that in our culture, guys in a position like his, who happen to also follow Jesus, get a disproportionately HUGE opportunity to share with others who he is and what he's about. And while he trains day in and day out on his game, I wish guys like him would spend just a little more time, as 1 Peter puts it, "preparing their defense." Thinking about the God they so vociferously proclaim. Reading God's word. And praying hard about the question, "If someone asked me the question today, 'who is Jesus', how would I answer in a way that shows forth the love I've experienced?"

Now I would be very surprised if anyone reading this has even close to the kind of exposure a Superbowl-winning linebacker at the end of his career has. Your audience will likely be one or two people at a time. But in so many words, the question's going to come to you, too. "How could God let something like this happen to me?" "What do you suppose God thinks about ____?" "Hey, you go to church, right? So, uh, why do you do that?" If you're like me, you'll pass up at least as many chances as you take. But if you've been training--if you've been worshiping, if you've been studying the Bible, if you've wrestled with some of these tough questions, by yourself and with others--then just maybe you can be a light of hope for somebody.

One of the realities my preaching professor drilled into us is, "you will at some point say something stupid." Suffice it to say, his prediction has more than once been proven correct. I am the last person to judge a fellow believer for sticking his foot in his mouth, because my own words would be muffled by my toes. But I dearly hope that the fear of those awkward moments--of saying the wrong thing--will not silence those of us who do know our God as a God of hope.

I Go to Church to Take a Break from Christmas.

"I wish that all were as I myself am. But each has a particular gift from God, one having one kind and another a different kind.

To the unmarried and the widows I say that it is well for them to remain unmarried as I am. But if they are not practicing self-control, they should marry. For it is better to marry than to be aflame with passion." 1 Corinthians 7:7-9

Kind of a weird text to wander to in the Advent season, but not any weirder than many you'll hear in church or in your devotional reading these days.

Paul is writing to the Corinthians who have asked him advice--"Dear Abby" style--on how to order their relationships as Christians. And the advice he gives is...well, weird. He apparently thinks that celibacy (his own lifestyle) is ideal if you can hack it, but if it's too distracting, to go ahead and get married. He goes on to say that those who are married should probably stay married, even if they're married to unbelievers, which apparently was a point of some controversy in the community.

So what's going on here? Why celibacy? Why marriage? What's Paul's reasoning? Well, it has to do with a certain internal logic to what might be called "Christianity, Phase I": the first generation or so of believers in Jesus. And the internal logic went something like this: "What is the point of complicating your life, when our Lord could return at any moment?" Why get married if you have no idea how long it will last? On the other hand, why stay single if it'll just distract you from what you need to focus on in these last days? And for that matter, why separate from a spouse or partner when you don't have to? In short, why make any change at all? The general state of mind for Paul seemed to be, "to prepare for Christ's return, keep your lives AS SIMPLE AS POSSIBLE."

Now, "Christianity, Phase I" obviously didn't last long. The whole reason we even have the gospels, and that they date from a full generation or so after the events they describe, is that until that point, folks didn't see the point of writing it down! Why waste the time on stuff like that when a new age is just around the corner? Want to know what Jesus was like? Go ask Peter! Go ask John! Ask Mary Magdalene! But, as these first witnesses began to die off, as people began to doubt their own assumption that Jesus' return would happen in their own lifetime, some stuff had to be recorded and codified. Some structure had to be set up, in the event that the present age hangs on for a while.

We are now roughly 1900 years into "Christianity, Phase II." We are no longer flying by the seat of our collective pants. For better or worse, we now have structures in place to help people hear the story of Jesus. Those structures are in constant need of reform, we have them. You do still sometimes hear people talking about celibacy as one option, for those especially called to it, but you generally hear Paul's advice taken with a grain of salt, because, with all the seismic changes that happened in his own age, how could he have known that this thing called the cosmos was going to roll on for another two millennia?

But I wonder if there isn't still something to the spirit of Paul's words: keep your lives as simple as possible. If you're called to it, get married. Start a family. If you're not, don't. By all means, don't distract yourself from the work of a disciple, by trying to fit into a cookie cutter lifestyle dictated by somebody else. For goodness' sake, life is already complicated, and life as a person of faith even more so, without all the extra obligations and responsibilities others heap on us, and we heap on ourselves, for no good reason.

We no longer operate on the assumption that Jesus will return in our lifetimes, but part of Advent is remembering that he could. And sadly, just like clockwork, this message comes at the single most complicated time of year for us, in just about every aspect of our lives. It's a tangled mess of obligations and responsibilities, professional and personal. the run-up to Christmas is our culture's chosen time to write letters to people you neither hear from nor contact at any time in the rest of the year, to socialize with coworkers in ways that are not expected at any other time of year, to volunteer your time for good causes that you tend to forget about during the rest of the year, to have all your friends and family over whom you don't see during the rest of the year, to travel all over creation, to spend money you don't have at an even greater pace than usual, and in the midst of it all, to make sure people know you're enjoying every minute of it. And as much as any one of those things, or even a more manageable combination of them, might bring you joy, when it all comes together at the same time, it gets...well, complicated. More complicated than it needs to be.

So that's why I love coming to Church in Advent. I know, I know, it's one more thing on the to-do list. But it's literally the one place in my life where it's not Christmas yet. It's a place where the priority is just to be with God, to be hopeful, and to know that something better than the world we know is coming. It's a place that helps us simplify. It's a place that reminds us that even if Jesus doesn't return tomorrow, our lives are short, and it's important to ask: "If this were my last day, is this how I'd want to have spent it?" The web of obligations that we get stuck in need not reach there. In there, it's about God's promise: all will be well, and it's not your job to make it well. God is on the job already.

So, I invite you to take a little break from Christmas this year. Join us for worship.

"I'm Pro-Paradox and I Vote!"

"The church is the assembly of saints in which the gospel is taught purely and the sacraments are administered rightly. And it is enough for the true unity of the church to agree concerning the teaching of the gospel and the administration of the sacraments." The Augsburg Confession, Article VII.

I'll admit it's a little "un-Lutheran" of me, at least according to Garrison Keillor's "Lake Wobegon" stereotype, but some days I'm really proud of my church.

There's no way Martin Luther could've predicted on All Hallows Eve of 1517, as he was posting his 95 theses, the 16th-century equivalent of a blog post that went viral, that some day in the distant future in a distant land people would still use that day to commemorate God's ever-reforming church. Nor, of course, could he have foreseen that this commemoration would happen within a week or so of our election day: a time when ordinary citizens take into their hands a power unparallelled in history, to decide our own future, to reform our country and our world. But I think God was up to something here.

I invite you to download and read the linked pastoral letter of our synodical bishop, Wolfgang Herz-Lane, addressing "Question 6," regarding the Civil Marriage Protection Act passed by the Maryland state legislature. As the letter mentions, Bishop Herz-Lane writes at the express request of 2012 the Delaware/Maryland Synod Assembly, and after organized discussion forums throughout the synod, and of course, much prayer.

I've read the letter over several times now, and here's what you're NOT going to find there:

1) A systematic Lutheran theology of marriage. Bishop Herz-Lane does make reference to "Human Sexuality: Gift and Trust", the ELCA's 2009 Social Statement on human sexuality in general, and the controversial issue of publicly accountable, lifelong, same-gender relationships in particular. But even when he does, he makes clear that the document doesn't try to settle these issues once and for all, but rather underline how ambivalent, divided, and lacking in consensus our church was on this issue 3 years ago, and continues to be today. Our strength comes not from agreeing on every issue, but from continuing to struggle with it together, and in the mean time, trusting in God's grace.

2) A "voting guide" for this or any other issue. Lutherans don't do "voting guides." To quote directly from the letter,

"Unlike some other churches, the ELCA does not tell its members how to vote in the public arena. The Lutheran church was born rejecting the notion that a priest or a bishop or even a pope should be telling folks what to believe and how to act."

Does this mean in our political discourse that we don't bother to talk together about scripture, about the Christian tradition, about the values Jesus and his disciples held dear? Nope. Does it mean we should just shut up about how we're going to vote, and refrain from sharing our opinions and even lovingly challenging others to reflect on theirs? Absolutely not. In fact, it means that this discussion should happen, and not be shut down by any human authority. It should take place with each believer on equal footing under God's Word and our God-given gift of moral discernment.

3) A blanket condemnation of proponents OR opponents of this legislation. Part of what makes our country so strong is our freedom of religion: to believe and organize our communities of faith as we so choose. That said, in light of recent actions of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops, I have to admit that I feel a lot of sympathy for American Catholics as election day approaches. The idea that I might not be welcome to the Communion meal if I were to support this legislation, let alone if I were to identify as gay and ask my fellow citizens for the same civil rights they enjoy every day, is one that is, admittedly, foreign to me.

This leads me to what our bishop's letter DOES say. It gives some background on the struggle of the ELCA and its predecessor bodies with this issue. It assures congregations and pastors that, just as the ELCA is not forcing anyone to perform a ceremonies they can't in good conscience support, neither will the state of Maryland should this law pass. The letter makes the distinction, first made by Martin Luther himself, between marriage as a legal contract, ratified by the state, and the blessings churches can choose to offer on that contract. It even reveals the bishop's own opinion on the issue. But most importantly, it affirms the Lutheran tradition of embracing paradox: Justified and yet sinners, Law and Gospel, God's kingdom as "already" and "not yet". It affirms that agreement on this or any social issue is not a prerequisite for communing or being "church" together. We can be church and disagree. You can come to God's banquet table no matter where your conscience leads you on this issue, because the only thing you need to be to eat there is a sinner, who knows that only God can save you.

Full disclosure: I happen to agree with Bishop Herz-Lane on this issue, and plan to vote accordingly. I believe, after much study, prayer and discussion with other Christians, that the 6 or 7 Bible passages that seem to speak to homosexuality do not, in my view, apply to committed life-long same-gender relationships in the modern day. I believe that even if they did apply, it would be the job of the church to preach and teach this in a loving way, relying on the Holy Spirit to influence hearts and minds, rather than to exert civic law as a blunt instrument to deny the civil rights of any group.

But with all that said, I believe even more strongly in the church as God's people, called by God through our baptism,and gathered, not around any social issue, but around God's Word and Jesus' Body and Blood. I believe that what makes church is not lock-step agreement up and down the ballot, but our common acknowledgment of the Good News: that Jesus has given his life to forgive our sins, and that we are made right with God by our faith. I believe in the paradox of intelligent, faithful Christians who hold opposing views, gathering, as forgiven sinners, for the meal of grace. I'm pro-paradox and I vote!

Fun Facts (and Myths) About Angels

Well, believe it or not, I had a little time on my hands this week, and I decided to do some self-guided continuing education. As you may or may not know, Today is the Festival of St. Michael and All Angels (which is, interestingly enough, the one and only Christian commemoration of a saint who is not a human being). Since Salem is the only congregation I've ever served that not only celebrates this festival each year, but also chooses it as our "Confirmation Sunday" in which our youth say "yes" to their baptism, I thought I'd do a little Biblical sleuthing on the subject of angels. Who and what are they, what do they do, and why should we care?

So, without further ado, here are Four Myths About Angels, Debunked by the Bible.

Myth #1: Angels Have Wings. Hey, I'm not one to call into question just about every religious drawing, Christmas ornament, and motivational poster you've ever seen...it's just not in the Bible. Angels are often described as beautiful (and more often, good-looking people are described as "looking like an angel"), but by and large, the only descriptor we have is that angels look like people. In fact, they are frequently mistaken for people, even by the most spiritually "in touch" of Biblical characters.

Now, there are a couple of Bible verses that suggest angels can fly. Revelation is pretty saturated with that kind of stuff. There is, of course, the story of the angel announcing Jesus' birth, which, if you already picture angels having wings, kind of "seals the deal" for that image. I mean, how else could angels go "back into heaven", right? But remember, Luke's gospel ends with Jesus' ascension, and I've never heard of anybody claiming that he had wings. Now the story of Jacob's ladder might be another one to make us think twice, but then...ummm...why would they need a ladder?

Now, I don't want you thinking that the whole "angels have wings" thing was completely plucked out of the sky (pun intended). It wasn't. It's just that there are these other heavenly creatures called Cherubim and Seraphim, who not only are described as having wings, but it's their distinguishing characteristic. It's the Cherubim that show up in artwork in the Holy Temple(wings and all). and Seraphim, as you may remember, figure prominently in Isaiah's call story. But, uh, here's the thing with that...see, the word "Seraph" in the Old Testament is also used for poisonous serpents. So, a serpent, that has six wings rather than two, bears little or no resemblance to an "angel" as described anywhere else in the Bible. Kind of a mystery, really, but it's clear these are 2 different things. Moving on...

Myth #2: Angels are assigned to individuals for protection. You've probably seen many a cartoon in which an angel is tasked with guarding an individual human, and find themselves getting distracted, with hilarious results. Sorry, Loony Toons fans. Also not Biblical. There are several references to an angel traveling with the Israelites in the wilderness, and helping them as a nation, but only in a couple of isolated cases do we see an angel show up to guard one person. Interestingly, both of those are in Daniel. The first is the good ol' fiery furnace, and the second is Daniel in the Lions' Den. Now there have been books and books written about the peculiarities of Daniel, but suffice it to say this is a theme that we don't find throughout scripture.

In fact, in Matthew and Luke, the Devil even tries to draw Jesus into some magical thinking in the "guardian angel" department by inviting him to jump off the pinnacle of the temple. Needless to say,this does not fly. Angels are almost always sent to deliver messages from God: not to be God's bouncers, nor God's special email-forward-based good luck charms. Hate to break it to you, but when you stub your toe, it's usually your own fault.

Myth #3: Satan used to be an angel. Alright, so I'm sure you can tell me the story. Lucifer was the most powerful angel, he wanted to be as strong as God, he got all his buddies together and tried to conquer Heaven, but God won and cast them down to hell. We've all heard it. But here's my challenge to you: which book of the Bible is that story in?
The answer: none of them. Most of what we think we know about Satan's "back story", we know from the brilliant imagination of John Milton in Paradise Lost. (Just like most of what we think we know about hell comes from Dante in the 13th century, but that's another post for another day.) Admittedly, Milton based his story on commonly accepted Christian and Jewish traditions. But not on the Bible. I found four references that, if you already believed this story, you could use as flimsy evidence that it's biblical, but not one of them, taken either by itself or even as a group, gives you a fully formed narrative.

First, there's Isaiah 14:12, in which the King James Bible mistakenly translates "Day star" as "Lucifer." No modern Bibles translate it that way, because it's based on the Latin rather than the original Hebrew. Oh, and plus, if you read the whole chapter, it's actually about the king of Babylon, so...

Second, there's Luke 10:17-20., where Jesus says he watched Satan fall from Heaven. But it seems weird that these disciples would come back from exorcising demons, and Jesus would change the subject to primeval history. Seems more likely, don't you think, that Jesus is using figurative language about how his disciples are currently "unseating" the Devil and the forces of evil from the places of cosmic authority? Like, right now, as opposed to before creation began?

Third, there's 2 Corinthians 11:14, where Paul says the Satan disguises himself as an angel of light. That's right. Disguises. Which would make a heck of a lot more sense if he's, you know, not actually an angel of light. Otherwise he's the equivalent of those teenagers who show up at your door each Halloween with no costume on and demand candy. (Not that I see no relation to the Evil One there, but I digress...)

Fourth, we've got Revelation 12:7-12, where our buddy Michael heads up an army to cast Satan and his angels out of Heaven. But then, there's the whole thing where all of Revelation, including this passage, is John's visionary account of God's justice and mercy for the future...not the past.

Myth #4: Angels are exclusively celestial beings. This one falls into the "why should we care?" department. And maybe I should've put it first, since by now if you've been waiting for that, you're totally bored. But here it is, plain and simple. "Angel" is Greek for "messenger." In fact, the word is sometimes used interchangeably for human messengers. So, whether or not you can get your head around the idea of these strange, possibly extra-terrestrial, airborne humanoid beings, flitting around doing God's will, you have to admit it: we're surrounded by angels. We're surrounded by messengers. If you have ever carried a word of hope from God to a loved one, you are an angel. If you have ever uttered the words, "Christ is Risen indeed! Alleluia!" you are an angel. If you have ever been affirmed for who you are as a beloved child of God, you have been attended by angels of the Lord. So Happy St. Michael's to you, my friends, and to all my fellow angels.