Speculative Thinking About The Cosmos
Friend or Foe?
At that time, Jesus revealed himself to his disciples after he was raised from the dead (John 21:14).
The theme of revelation is central to the New Testament. The problem is that precious few of us have eyes to see what is being revealed, as Jesus tells us time and again. We all have eyes but not the kind Jesus talks about. So often we go about our business from day-to-day blind, focused on matters of no moment, seeking treasures that have no lasting value. You and I need eyes to see. Different eyes. We need spiritual eyes, angelic eyes. But this requires that we die to ourselves and be reborn, as Jesus says. To see, we must be “born from above” (John 3:3).
We need to fly above ourselves if we are ever to see.
This is what baptism is about. We die and rise with Christ as we descend into and emerge from the baptismal font. Yet as we grow in faith, we find that we die and rise every day of our lives. This means that our baptism is a continuing process of learning to see and to be—a process that does not come to completion in this life.
Some saints are blessed to have fleeting visions here below, and I am not a saint. But is it possible that some of us return from death with new eyes? We have heard of such happenings. They are called “near death experiences”. I am not so naïve as to believe every one of these tales, but some of them get me thinking. And then I remember the many resurrection accounts in both Testaments: the Israelite man in 2 Kings 13:20-21, the Widow of Nain’s son (Luke 7: 11-17), Jairus’s Daughter (Luke 8:49-45), Tabitha (Acts 9:36-42), Eutychus (Acts 20:7-12)—and most dramatically, Lazarus, risen from the dead for all to see (John 11:1-44).
But I recently read something that got me remembering again. Let me share with you. In Modern Orthodox Thinkers (InterVarsityPress, 2015), Fr. Andrew Louth relates a story told by the French theologian Olivier Clement about the Angel of Death:
The angel’s wings are covered with eyes, as were the cherubim in Ezekiel’s vision. But it may happen–because of a prayer or a tear—that God decides to spare the one to whom he has sent his angel: he or she must go on living, is still needed on earth. So the angel is told to return, but before departing, he leaves behind, discreetly, without showing himself, a pair of eyes from his wings. The one restored to life now sees, not just with his or her natural eyes, but with the eyes left by the angel. Now much that seemed important appears ridiculous, and vice versa (p. 278).
This makes sense to me, as I remember my Nana. She loved God as she loved us. Constantly. Unconditionally. She prayed the rosary every day and was a second mother to us. And to her dying day she affirmed a vision she had after death.
It happened in 1987. We were gathered around her death bed in the hospital, with several doctors and nurses attending. Fading quickly, she passed away. But on being declared dead for nearly 10 minutes, she opened her eyes. She rose from that bed. And in the days following, she revealed what she saw in those minutes: “Oh! I looked down from above! I was hovering over the bed! I saw my body and a nurse turning off the respirator—and I saw you, all of you!”
And then she said something that we all must never forgot: “Do not fear death”.
Our dear Nana blessed us for several more years until the Angel returned to take her.
I often think about this, and I try to take her advice to heart. For I am convinced that she was given to see and to know something that I habitually forget from time to time. It is so easy to forget.
I think the Angel of Death is our friend. He descends from the heavens to watch over us with bright eyes and lovely wings. And if we love God and strive to be true to Him, I believe that Angel will give us eyes to see as we die, eyes from his wings—wing-eyes that make us fly.
Fr. Paul Martin
Annunciation & St. Paraskevi Greek Orthodox Church
New Buffalo, MI