It's a Good Night for Star Gazing

 

Angels Unaware

“The sky has a special power to turn our minds in a certain direction, and there we find angels.”

Thomas Moore (The Soul of Christmas, p. 84; Franciscan Media, 2016)

          Angels, Thomas Moore says, live in another world, “not another planet, but another order altogether.” He reports that Thomas Aquinas, in medieval times, referred to them as “separate beings.” And on this night, just outside Bethlehem, one of them showed up in a meadow where sheep were grazing, and shepherds were gathered around a fire watching over them. The angel was enormous, and glowing and the shepherds fell on their faces in fear. But this angel had good news of a birth that happened nearby—a baby had been born to a poor couple, Mary and Joseph. This child would grow up to be their savior, their Messiah, and they must go at once and see him. Suddenly, there were many angels singing around them, praising God and blessing them and everyone on earth with good will and peace.

          Have you ever lain in the grass on a moonless night and watched the stars begin to twinkle? As the sky darkens and your eyes adjust, you see more and more stars. Stars heaped upon stars, depths of stars and holding them all together, the white whisp of the Milky Way. It’s a sight like none other. One that makes you think lofty, deep, and magical thoughts. One that reminds you how small you are in the great scheme of things. Questions come into your mind that are vast in their expanse and as deep as the stars above you. Cosmic questions, of life and death, of other worlds and other possibilities. You know that angels could, and probably do reside in such beauty. In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised to see one.

          There are also angels here on earth, but they look much like us. They come out of nowhere to be a savior to one person or to many. I love to tell the story of the man who pulled my car out of a ditch—with his bare hands. He didn’t glow; he had no wings nor heavenly robe. In fact, he wore overalls and a big beard, and weighed well over two hundred pounds. He simply lifted the front of my car, and told me to back up slowly, which I did. His message to me was not momentous, but I still remember it fifty years later. He said, “Mam, it don’t never pay to get in a hurry.” He was right, if not eloquent. I never saw this man again, nor did I think to ask his name. He came, he saved—mission accomplished.

          The only book I can remember my mother reading to me and Jerrie, was Angel Unaware by Dale Evans Rogers. It was a story about her baby girl who was born with an affliction and died very young. She wrote about the gifts this little girl brought to Dale and Roy in her short life. Mother read this book to us on the occasion of Missy’s birth, and subsequent cerebral hemorrhage. She wanted us to know that Missy would not be like us—she would be a “separate being,” but even so, she would be one of us. For Mother, Missy was always an angel unaware.

          It’s Christmas Eve. If you don’t believe in angels, I’m sorry. I’ll keep on believing in them and the blessing they bring for no good reason. They’re just there when you need them to save you. Jesus was like that. He came, he saved, and he returned to the stars, mission accomplished. And for that gift, I am grateful. Happy Christmas to each of you.

                                                  In the Spirit,

                                                  Jane