How scary can an angel be?

Sitting here today I came to the realization that if I didn't write my Christmas cards today, they just wouldn't happen again this year.

I think perhaps I just wanted to continue writing this poor tired icon I've spent so much time praying over, painting over, wondering over. Perhaps it's like a first child, having never done it before I'm unsure when I should call each stage finished and move on to the next thing, Sort of like worrying about knowing when I was having labor pains because how would I know a pain was THE pain, I'd never felt one before. And there are so many little aches and pains that last month, several times a night I'd think "oh! this may be IT!" and wait to see how long before there was another one, and of course all those one-time muscle screams didn't repeat, so then I'd know at least that one wasn't it. I've stumbled down a few wrong paths writing this icon, too, and done enough gessoing over to try it again another way.

But this first icon isn't even close to ready for prime time yet, and a few more days won't make it be, no matter how long and hard I work at it. So I really needed to write my text for the inside of the card, and then illustrate it. Or do my illustration first, then stare at it until words come. But neither words nor pictures were coming this afternoon and so I started picking over all the different elements of the nativity. And I got caught where I always get caught, at the concept of the angels.

Not so much at the reality of angels, I know angels are real and active in my life today. My own personal guardian angel has pulled my bacon out of the fire so often the creature surely has grown some asbestos fingertips by now. And I know, as surely as I know my own name, there were angels who appeared to shepherds on the hills there between Bethlehem and Jerusalem singing the good news. And the Bible tells me so it must be so that the shepherds were lo afraid. Not just a little bit unsure, not where they'd whisper one to the other "does this creep your skin?" They were LO Afraid. Big time afraid. Sheer raving terrified just at the sight of this host of angels, and that was before anybody even started to sing.

So I wonder here yet another year, what did those angels look like? Were they huge? Or fire-filled? Or just so blamed ugly or unusual that the sight of one of them was enough to turn every shepherd's legs to jelly and maybe it wasn't so much a prostration as a strong case of spaghetti legs. How many eyes or ears or arms did they have, I wonder. Or those angel wings that Luke doesn't tell about but must be told somewhere in the scriptures because any angel drawing I've ever seen had wings. But maybe they had many wings, six on each side and four front and back. I really can't imagine how scary they must have had to look to frighten these shepherds. I've seen Bedouins and their flocks and they don't look like they'd scare easy.

But the sheer power of God, as shown in the majesty of those angels, overwhelmed those brave shepherds, like a bear or a badger never had. I also wonder, if we'd been able to separate them, then ask them each what the angels looked like, I suspect every answer would be different. Maybe one of them even saw the blonde-haired blue-eyed angel that we think of today. Maybe that's why the scriptures don't tell us what angels look like, because sight of them looked different to each witness. Or maybe we aren't told because it isn't important, that the angels' message, and the shepherds' reaction to them is the important part. Nonetheless, I still wonder what these other world creatures looked like. I think I know what they were, they were little chunks of God (like the trinity, but lots of them) but not made in his image, not like us, so they did look very different than us.

But I don't know. I do know I like to ponder on these things as the glorious mystery that is Christmas approaches. I do think I know a bit of what the shepherd's felt, do you? Have you ever rounded a corner in a place unknown to you and then been gobsmacked with wonder and awe at a new-to-you beautiful piece of creation? Or ever in church come over all awe-stricken and yes, paralyzed with a fear-like emotion, as God gets through a little bit to you? That feeling is what I want from Christmas this year, for me and for you. I pray that the sheer terror and wonder of the shepherds be ours this year. That wet spaghetti-legs feeling, that knowledge of all-knowing and unconditional love that wraps us, if we let it. That is what I want, for you and for me.