Today I have nothing to do, and no desires of my own; therefore I’ll try writing a sermon that proves that biblical cherubs look just like eagles, at least according to modern facial-recognition software.
This idea came to me while incorporating a passage from the book of the prophet Ezekiel into yesterday’s imagined wartime letter. I performed a great deal of research to make sure that my uses of his scripture were accurate; and, in the process, I discovered passages that shall illuminate this morning’s sermon. So, first I’ll quote the relevant excerpts; and then I’ll begin the sermon proper.
Prooftexts
In the initial chapter of his collected prophecies, Ezekiel describes the appearance of the LORD’s mobile throne. Here are verses 4-5 & 10, in the King James translation:
I looked, and, behold, a whirlwind came out of the north, a great cloud, and a fire infolding itself, and a brightness was about it, and out of the midst thereof as the colour of amber, out of the midst of the fire; also out of the midst thereof came the likeness of four living creatures. [...] As for the likeness of their faces, they four had the face of a man, and the face of a lion, on the right side: and they four had the face of an ox on the left side; they four also had the face of an eagle.
Remember that — the four faces of the creatures were:
- Man
- Lion
- Ox
- Eagle
Later in his own book (10:14), Ezekiel describes these creatures yet again, but this time he gives that last-named beast an alternate word, thus signifying that the terms are interchangeable:
Every creature had four faces: the first face was the face of a man; the second face was the face of a lion; the third the face of an ox; and the fourth the face of a cherub.
Check this order against the above list:
- Man
- Lion
- Ox
- Cherub
The fourth face of the divine creatures is given as an “eagle” in the first chapter, and, in the tenth chapter, it is given as a “cherub”. Therefore I conclude that the eagle and the cherub share an identity and are truly the selfsame being. — Now I’ll begin my sermon...
Dearly beloved,
I take the term “landline” to mean a telephone that is connected by cable thru the earth (the dirt of the grave), as opposed to a phone that’s connected wirelessly via heaven (the air of the sky).
The reason this concept of landline was on my mind is that I woke this morning thinking about how fun it was in ancient times when you were in grade-school, and some fellow student in your math class had a crush on you (you knew this because her friend passed you a note saying “Kym likes you!” with two boxes labeled “Yes” and “No” preceded by the question “Do you like her back?”) and you would wait by the telephone, hoping that it would ring, and that you would answer and hear the voice of your secret admirer.
Now, in a failed attempt to keep you from falling asleep, when making my opening statement I referred to the firmament that stretches over the earth as “heaven”: it’s my understanding that this word is a synonym for “sky” or “air”, which is why I included both of those words in a parenthetical clarification. We preachers use the word heaven as a trope for the place where God lives, and for the place where one’s spirit will go after death, if certain conditions are met (barring which, some believe the spirit is sent into purgatory or hell). But that last of the aforementioned synonyms has won over my fancy, for the moment, which is why I abandoned the love story that I intended to write (originally my plan was to celebrate the style of lovemaking that formerly occurred by way of telephones that were wired or metered; then contrast that with the type of lovemaking that occurs over cellphones: my aim would have been to lament the latter while demonstrating the former’s superiority): I’m now more interested in that passage from the writings of the Apostle, where Paul makes reference to “the prince of the air” — for I’ve always presumed that this phrase denotes the Devil, Monseigneur Satan Trismegistus, or some sort of evil force or power among his minions; maybe one of the demons who remain on Lucifer’s payroll; whereas now, taking into consideration this noted similarity between the air and heaven, I’m wondering if the enemy of our enemy might not fit just as well in the cockpit of the godhead, if you know what I mean.
Let me quote what I feel is relevant, just to help me think about it. Maybe I’ll abandon it right away; maybe I’ll run with it. I’m mostly fascinated with the idea that a lot of these tropes or metaphors swing both ways; I mean, “the Lord in Heaven” is supposedly GOOD, whereas “the Prince of the Air” is supposedly BAD, altho technically the phrases suggest corresponding impressions. Paul addresses “the saints which are at Ephesus” as follows:
I make mention of you in my prayers, that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give unto you the spirit of wisdom and revelation in the knowledge of him: the eyes of your understanding being enlightened; that ye may know what is the hope of his calling, and what the riches of the glory of his inheritance in the saints, and what is the exceeding greatness of his power to us-ward who believe, according to the working of his mighty power, which he wrought in Christ, when he raised him from the dead, and set him at his own right hand in the heavenly places, far above all principality, and power, and might, and dominion, and every name that is named, not only in this world, but also in that which is to come: and hath put all things under his feet, and gave him to be the head over all things to the church, which is his body, the fulness of him that filleth all in all.
That’s Ephesians 1:16 on thru to the end of the chapter. Note how lousy of a writer Paul is.
Now, immediately after the above, at the start of chapter two, is the place where the phrase in question is employed:
And you hath he quickened, who were dead in trespasses and sins; wherein in time past ye walked according to the course of this world, according to the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that now worketh in the children of disobedience.
Alright, so, first, I had the phrase wrong: it’s “prince of the power of the air”, not just “prince of the air”. And I think I solved my mystery, because it’s not exactly the same as saying “the Lord in Heaven”, as Paul specifies that his Christ has been placed “at [God’s] own right hand in the heavenly places, far above all principality, and power, and might, and dominion, and every name that is named, not only in this world, but also in that which is to come…” thus the GOOD Lord occupies a department of the air that is much higher than the place where the BAD prince resides. The prince of the power of the air has jurisdiction only throughout the peanut gallery, as it were; whereas God owns the balcony.
Down near the earth, when you just stand on your own two feet, you don’t really SEE the air — I mean, it doesn’t have a definite color; it’s invisible. (I’m assuming that you live near me in the Midwestern U.S. where the woods are green and the air is clean; yet if you live in some other part of the world, such as Brazil where currently the forests are all burnt up, your air will be smoky brown, perhaps even black; or if you live in Los Angeles, California, I imagine your smog is gray, from all the car exhaust: it’s so thick, you can cut it with a knife, and it resembles murky gelatin. But I’m not really addressing you faraway foreigners; I’m talking only to my brothers & sisters from Wisconsin & Minnesota, which, when merged with Iowa, form the finest tri-state area on the globe, comparable to the “Heaven” of Planet Earth.) So now that we’ve established that the air near ground level is transparent & colorless, let’s lift our heads a little: As we shift our gaze upward, now the air seems to acquire a hue: it is blue, with white clouds. Another pretty word is “azure”.
Yet my question remains: Where does the prince of the power of the air eke out his existence? We’ve established that his realm is underneath God’s; but where does that indicate, exactly? (For space extends a great distance onward and outward.) Is it in the wonderful stretch of atmosphere round the earth’s surface; or is it up in the blue sky, along with the clouds? This is an important query, because the more real estate that we offer our client, the BAD prince, the farther away we push our boss, the GOOD Lord.
If I must venture a guess, I’d say that this BAD prince lives down close to the soil, with us humans, in the colorless air that’s see-thru & healthy to breathe; whereas the GOOD Lord lives in the clouds — that’s the actual Heaven. Cuz if we allow the BAD prince to occupy the high sky, then that promotes the GOOD Lord up another level, which brings us to the void of outer space, or what is known as “the extrinsic blackness”: & the vapor-scape is extremely scarce up there; it’s hard to breathe (not that God needs oxygen — his lungs can process any type of gas; plus he has gills near his loins that can convert even poisonous liquids into nutriment, & he boasts zero waste emissions); I can’t see the GOOD Lord living in a place where BAD folks are jettisoned; that’s almost like another type of Hell, rather than Heaven.
Isn’t it interesting that, supposedly, Hell is far below the earth, but it’s also “the outer darkness” (perhaps this is why down-and-out signifies destitution), which is way higher in space even than the vaulting sky of Heaven? So Hell is, at once, super low AND way too high. Therefore Hell is like two pieces of bread, and Heaven is the cucumbers between them: the tang of the sandwich.
I’m intrigued by this concept of an unlit exterior abyss, devoid of form: the proverbial place where the sun don’t shine. I now recall a passage from one of the Gospels where it is mentioned — I’ll copy it here, literally just for the Hell of it — it’s at the end of this tale from Saint Matthew:
Now Jesus gave a lecture to his disciples and to the crowd which had gathered to hear him. He said:
I have a parable that I chose to call “Many are called, but few are chosen”. Here’s how it goes:
The kingdom of heaven is like unto a certain monarch who arranged for his son, the prince, to undergo wedlock. So he commands his servants to invite all the merchants in the country to come and join him in celebrating this edict, but no one responded.
Then a second time he sends out his servants, telling them “Go and invite all the merchants in the marketplace, and anywhere you can find them within our country: tell them I’m throwing a White Wedding Bash for my son, Prince Bryan of Iowa. There’s going to be plenty of corn available gratis, fresh on the cob. We’ll also serve summer sausage of the finest quality, as it’s made from our own livestock. And there will be non-alcoholic refreshments as well as adult beverages; and turkey jerky for desert. Inform all potential wedding-guests of these details; then ask them: ‘Now are you merchants coming or not?’ — If it’s at all possible, try to get them to RSVP.”
But when the merchants heard this second invitation, they made light of it & pooh-poohed the notion of attending a boring wedding feast in Iowa, even if it WAS for Bryan the Prince of the Most High Monarch.
And when the servants went to the mall to try to wheedle some representatives of the consumer class into attending the party, the shoppers at the mall joined together with the merchants and all the store owners, and they actually physically beat up the servants of the monarch; and the servants’ injuries were so severe that they all had to be rushed to the hospital’s emergency room. And every single one of them ended up dying.
Then all the merchants, store owners and shoppers at the mall, after thusly declining the invite, returned to the marketplace.
Now when the monarch saw the local news report about these killings, he was furious; and he commanded his well-regulated Militia to murder those murderers. (As it is written: Vengeance is mine.) So they went forth into the marketplace and destroyed it. And they burned down the mall.
Then the monarch said to his militiamen, “Listen up, boys. The wedding is scheduled to take place this afternoon, and the reception follows in the evening; but everyone I invited proved unworthy. Therefore, here’s a last-ditch idea: Why don’t you guys head out to the wasteland & the gloomier districts of our country; the impoverished places where the weirdos & freaks all live: Talk to them and see if they’d be willing to attend today’s event. For I don’t want my son Bryan to feel that no one cares about this connection that I’m arranging to his benefit (it’ll be a windfall for the entire tri-state area, politically speaking, when the Prince of I·o·wis·con·sin·ite Airpower weds Minnesota’s Infamous Snow-Woman: we shall see how their heirs fare in the upcoming blizzard — for the Big One is soon to erupt); yes, this match is a power move, and I think it deserves a celebration. But merchants are stupid; we learned that the hard way: they all turned down our invite, and now they’re extinct; so my last desperate thot is that maybe the poets will join us. Make sure you tell them about the food, and mention as well that there’ll be free absinthe & cannabis.”
So those militiamen went out into the highways, under the bridges, and into the tent cities and all the less-gentrified realms of the wasteland, and they gathered together as many outcasts as they could find, both bad and good.
Thus, at last, the royal wedding was furnished with guests.
But when the monarch came backstage & peeked thru the curtains at the multitude of attendees, lo! he espied, at a table in the front row, one of the roughs: a bearded male, 37 years of age, sporting a shirt whose top two buttons were left unfastened, & wearing a jaunty hat withal. The guy was basically in work clothes. So the monarch cries:
“Hey there, punk, how’d you get into this event without wearing the proper attire?” And he gripped the man’s lapels in his hands as he said this.
The whole room went quiet. For an instant, the man was speechless. But then he rose to his feet and said, in a loud voice that all could hear:
“Whimpering & truckling fold with powders for invalids; conformity goes to the fourth-removed: I wear my hat as I please indoors or out.”
Then the monarch commanded his militiamen:
“Bind this man hand and foot, drag him away, & cast him into OUTER DARKNESS. It’s gonna be a long night. There shall be weeping & gnashing of teeth.”
[Matthew 22:1-14]
It seems to me that prophets are naturally at odds with monarchs. So it’s strange that God, who is the top monarch…
No, I’m not gonna rehash that old God-vs.-Devil argument, with regard to where the poet’s allegiance should lie. I like both sides. I even like the fence between them. God’s grass is just as green as the Devil’s lawn: neither yard is better kept; they just both look fantastic when viewed from the opposite domain.
This is the grass that grows wherever the land is and the water is, / This the common air that bathes the globe.
(More lines from Walt Whitman’s “Song of Myself”, which I also had the punk quote in Jesus’ parable.)
I like how that sounds: the prince of the power of the common air. Maybe it’s the same deity after all, and God just appears majestic when he’s up high, and then seems “bad” when viewed up-close down here at ground level. Respect for a distant external heavenly monarch, combined with hatred of a dirty earthy hippie gadfly poet, is really just a fear of one’s own divinity, and a type of self-loathing.
If you keep God the Father separate from Jesus the Son and from Lucifer the Fallen, then you end up with John Milton’s Paradise Lost. But if you see the three deities as different phases in the career of a single cherub, then you end up with Alfred Tennyson’s poem “The Eagle” (especially if we let the ocean signify Hell):
He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ring’d with the azure world, he stands.The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.
No comments:
Post a Comment