2. As a theologian, I love angels. And I love theologians who have something to say about angels. Because, to be honest, so few modern theologians know what to say.
3. That's because angels, I think, present to us the barrier that all theological epistemology encounters: How can we know what to say? Angels are as inaccessible as God himself, so angels present yet another of those moments when, in front of mystery, theologians are left gaping for language in a way that the Spirit then transforms into prayer.
4. Angels, quite simply, don't fit into our world. It's clear from the biblical narratives that angels are not from our world, which is why those who encounter them must first hear a message of comforting transformation: "Peace be with you". Every theological interaction with angels is an interaction with the other-worldly.
5. Dionysius the Areopagite extends the stories of scripture to fill out an entire hierarchy of celestial beings. According to Gregory of Nazianzus, angels are incorporeal (Oration 29), and so transcend material creation. They are creatures of the invisible creation referred to in the Nicene Creed. They are a reminder that creation is not limited to the phenomenal world that is subject to scientific observation.
6. But that doesn't stop Scripture from speaking of angels in quite corporeal terms: Traveling, singing, eating, killing. These angelic incorporations are, I think, a sign of the in-breaking Kingdom of God. Angels are God's way of entering created causality. Angels enter the scene only when virgins fall pregnant or hungry lions pretend to be sated. This is why the story of Jesus is book-ended by stories of angels. The Incarnation is one long reminder that God is not leaving the world alone, and angels are a foretaste of the truth that God's presence in creation is real and abiding.
7. But even when we meet angels, the Kingdom doesn't give up its secrets. Despite all our best modern attempts to do what Barth said we shouldn't do -- demythologize angels -- angels persist in the biblical story (and therefore in the story of creation) as reminders that God cannot be predicted or contained. Angels defy reduction -- even reduction by theologians.
8. So every theological reduction of angels is at heart the very hubris of theology. This demythologization is the open theological admission that we understand the world. To deny angels is to say that we know how God works with creation, and angels aren't it. In other words, the theological reductionism of angels is sin.
9. The Bible preserves the mystery of angels so that we can preserve the mystery of God's work in the world. We can trust these stories about angels in a way that we cannot trust the physical reductionism of the modern world.
10. This is why, ultimately, I think the angelic language of Scripture is more akin to poetry than to history (as we moderns conceive these things). That's because poetry speaks in a way narrative cannot. To change the language of a poem is to change the poem's meaning. Angels enter into a situation to expose the strangeness of God’s activity and the mystery of creation. We cannot remove them from the narratives without the internal sense of the story breaking down. To demythologize angels, again, is to deny them. This is why I think theologians should pay more attention to angels. Our attentiveness to Scripture demands that we speak of angels in the same way we speak of God -- with all the poetic mystery of the world.