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From The Guardian in Trinidad and Tobago:

Panic broke out at the Moruga Composite School yesterday as 17 female students fell mysteriously ill and began rolling on the ground, hissing and blabbering in a strange tongue, after suffering bouts of nausea and headaches. Two of the students reportedly tried to throw themselves off a railing and had to be physically restrained, triggering fears of a possible demon attack. The drama started during the lunch hour in the Form One block and quickly spread to other areas. Form Five student Kern Mollineau, who attends the Lighthouse Tabernacle Church, said he got worried when the girls’ eyes began rolling up in their heads and they began beating up on the ground.

With the assistance of several other students and teachers, the pupils were taken to the multi-purpose hall where some of them fell into a semi-conscious state. Mollineau recalled: “One girl was blabbering as if in a strange language. I could not understand what she was saying. “It was sounding like ‘shebbaberbebeb shhhhee.’ The girls were unusually strong. We had to hold them down so that they will not hurt themselves. “The teachers were right there. I get a kick in my face when one of the girls started beating up on the floor. Many of them had bruises.” Mollineau claimed he actually communicated with the “devil which had possessed the girl. “I asked the Devil what he wanted with the girls and the voice said he wanted a life. He kept saying to send the girls in the toilet and to leave them alone,” Mollineau claimed.

Roman Catholic priests, as well as pastors from nearby churches, including Josephine Charles, Deborah Charles and Pastor Gordon, visited the school and began showering the children with holy water and prayers. Two more students, Kriston Mollineau and Kishon Bethel, said they too were called by teachers to assist the ill girls. Kriston said the girls complained of headaches and some of them wanted to go to the toilet. Six ambulances arrived at the school accompanied by police teams from the Moruga and St Mary’s Police Post. A party of fire officers from the Princes Town Fire Station, led by acting Assistant Divisional Fire Officer Ramdeo Boodoo visited the school and began conducting several tests on the surroundings to determine the cause of the problem.

Boodoo said there was nothing in the environment to trigger fainting spells, nausea and headaches. A teacher, who requested anonymity, said two weeks ago an Orisha woman came to the school and had a dispute with a member of staff. He said following the dispute, the woman threatened to deal with the school administration. Another teacher said the school was built on a burial site, but neighbours who live around the school denied that was so. A source at the school confirmed that all 17 pupils were taken to the Princes Town Health Facility where they were medically examined. The other students were sent home at 2 pm.

Responding yesterday, Minister in the Ministry of Education Clifton de Coteau said he was aware that pupils had to be taken for medical attention. De Coteau said Student Support Service officials were sent to the school and students were expected to receive counselling. A statement from the Ministry of Education said the Public Transport Service Corporation (PTSC) made maxi taxis available to the school to assist the Office for Disaster Preparedness and Management (ODPM) which provided additional ambulances.

Matthew Cochrane, Guest Blog: Book Review: Fingerprints of the Gods

Fingerprints of the Gods

By Graham Hancock/Three Rivers Press

In his fascinating book, Fingerprints of the Gods, Graham Hancock details his travels around the world studying ancient civilizations, focusing primarily on Central and South America and Egypt. Approaching mankind’s history like a giant jigsaw puzzle, Hancock makes, what seems at first glance, two seemingly outrageous claims: 1) A civilization much more advanced technologically and culturally than our own existed thousands, perhaps even tens of thousands, years ago before perishing in a series of cataclysmic natural disasters; and 2) This civilization left warning signs around the world to prepare us for more forthcoming disasters.

To support his first claim, Hancock makes a compelling case. He uses, in turn, archeological, historical, and scientific evidence, forcing readers to challenge their preconceived notions of history and the evolution of human civilization. This premise takes up the vast majority of Hancock’s massive tome, as he slowly and carefully reveals the evidence for his bold assertion. Unfortunately, Hancock makes the case for his second claim much more boldly and sloppily, resorting to a foundation built on more opinion and speculation than facts and evidence.

Hancock begins the book a bit oddly. Without any introduction whatsoever, he begins discussing the Piri Reis Map, a map made in Constantinople in 1513 derived from other, earlier, sources. Hancock quickly notes several peculiarities about this early map, not the least of which is that the Piri Reis Map accurately depicts the coastline of Antarctica more than 300 years before the frozen continent was allegedly discovered. He also explains that part of the coastline illustrated in the map had not been in an ice-free condition since approximately 4000 BC according to the all of the geological evidence. Hancock writes:

In other words, the true enigma of this 1513 map is not so much its inclusion of a continent not discovered until 1818 but its portrayal of part of the coastline of that continent under ice-free conditions which came to an end 6000 years ago and have not since recurred.

It is here Hancock first introduces us to Professor Hapgood’s “earth crust displacement” theory. Endorsed by Albert Einstein, Hapgood was a professor at Keene College and believed the whole outer crust of the earth can undergo massive shifts around the earth’s core “much as the skin of an orange, if it were loose, might shift over the inner part of the orange all in one piece.” I can neither competently endorse nor criticize this geological theory but the fact Einstein endorsed it seems to lend it some credence. Hancock then proposes that Antarctica’s coastlines might not have been covered by ice thousands of years ago, when the sources of the Piri Reis Map were originally made because it might not have sat on the earth’s South Pole. This would account for the coastlines being ice-free, allowing the cartographers to accurate map the continent’s geological coastline.

After a few brief chapters on Hapgood’s earth crust displacement theory and Antarctica, Hancock largely ignores both subjects for four hundred pages before picking them up again near the book’s conclusion. While he does eventually tie everything together, this originally leaves the reader confused as to why he began his book this way.

It is after these chapters, however, that Hancock assumes the first-person narrative style of his travels and the pace of the book picks up and goes from interesting to fascinating. Beginning in South America, Hancock explores archeological artifacts that seem to point to one conclusion: ancient civilizations, of which we know little to nothing about, possessed vast and sophisticated scientific knowledge.

The first of these phenomena Hancock explores are the famous Nazca lines. The Nazca plateau in southern Peru is a desolate, unwelcoming place. The only thing making this plateau memorable is a series of drawings – on a massive, epic scale. How large are they? Hancock answers:

None of the designs is small enough to be seen from ground level, where they appear merely as a series of ruts in the desert. They show their true form only when seen from an altitude of several hundred feet. There is no elevation nearby that provides such a vantage point.

The drawings include geometrical shapes (where some of the lines extend for miles) and pictures of animals and humans. In fact, some of the drawings are more remarkable for their precision and attention to detail than they are for their sheer size. Hancock writes:

…let us note that the Nazca spider also accurately depicts a member of a known spider genus – Rinuculei. This, as it happens, is one of the rarest spider genera in the world, so rare indeed that it has only been found in remote and inaccessible parts of the Amazon rainforest. How did the supposedly primitive Nazcan artists travel so far from their homeland, crossing the formidable barrier of the Andes, to obtain a specimen? More to the point, why should they have wanted to do such a thing and how were they able to duplicate minute details of Ricinuclei’s anatomy normally visible only under a microscope…?

Hancock relates several other places of interest in the lower American continent. For instance, a sculpture from the Olmec site of La Venta very clearly shows a man seated and driving what can only be described as some sort of vehicular or mechanical device. Through it all, Hancock points to what might be deemed clues, but not cold hard proof, that a great civilization was lost deep in the annals of history.

The best part of the book, however, deals with Egypt and the great pyramids. Personally, I always imagined the pyramids were such a big deal because of their sheer size. Other than that, I never gave them much thought. After reading Fingerprints, though, I now realize that their size is just about their least significant characteristic. As he does with most of his subject matter, Hancock questions the conventional wisdom concerning the pyramids. He questions who built them, how they were built, how long it took to build them, how old they were, and even why they were originally built. Explaining some of these issues, Hancock writes:

It wasn’t just the tens of thousands of blocks weighing 15 tons or more that the builders would have had to worry about. Year in, year out, the real crises would have been caused by the millions of “average-sized” blocks, weighing say 2.5 tons, that also had to be brought to the working plane. The Pyramid has been reliably estimated to consist of a total of 2.3 million blocks. Assuming that the masons worked ten hours a day, 365 days a year, the mathematics indicate that they would have needed to place 31 blocks in position every hour (about one block every two minutes) to complete the Pyramid in twenty years. Assuming that construction work had been confined to the annual three-month lay-off, the problems multiplied: four blocks a minute would have to be delivered, about 240 every hour.

It is impossible to comment on all the mysteries Hancock reveals to his readers in the space provided here. Needless to say, I have whole new respect for the precision and scope of the pyramids then I ever had before. Throughout his book, Hancock also compares remarkably similar legends shared by different cultures he encountered throughout his journey. He believes (as do I) the similarities of these legends points to one common civilization all cultures share in their history. Some of these legends are familiar to all, like ancient accounts of a worldwide flood made famous in Genesis.

Something also needs to be said, here, of Hancock’s writing style, which, I suspect, most readers will either love or hate. For most of the book Hancock resorts to a first-person narrative, describing his clues for an advanced ancient civilization as he travels to and explores the pertinent locales. At some points, this sort of narrative soars. For instance, while Hancock illegally scaled the exterior of the Great Pyramid in Egypt, he simultaneously talks about the Pyramid’s stones. His first-person narrative of scaling these same stones added a lot of perspective and detail to the text. At other points, this writing style seemingly falls flat. For example, in another place in the book, he attempts to tell a humorous anecdote of being discovered by Japanese tourists as he climbed into a coffin to gain a different perspective. While this might have been amusing in a shorter book, in this 500+ page tome, it feels more tedious than anything else.

Hancock also displays a maddening habit of leaving his readers with more questions than answers. For instance, while discussing the complex Mayan calendar produced, by all other standards, a rather crude and simple civilization he writes:

So how come the Maya got handy with big periods like hundreds of millions of years? Was it a freak of cultural development? Or did they inherit the calendrical and mathematical tools which facilitated, and enabled them to develop, this sophisticated understanding? If an inheritance was involved, it is legitimate to ask what the original inventors of the Mayan calendar’s computerlike circuitry had intended it to do. What was it designed for? Had they simply conceived of all its complexities to concoct “a challenge to the intellect, a sort of tremendous anagram,” as one authority claimed? Or could they have had a more pragmatic and important objective in mind?

This might be inevitable considering the subject matter but I found myself constantly wishing for more concrete answers than Hancock provides.

Indeed, for such a long book most of my criticism centers on it not being long enough. Hancock ambitiously bites off a lot and sometimes fails to thoroughly cover all of his bases. When questioning orthodox scholarship on any particular question he usually handles the argument well, explaining why mainstream scholarship accepts a certain position and why he disagrees. In these instances, Hancock rarely fails to make a compelling case. In more than a few instances, however, Hancock states what orthodox scholarship believes on a certain topic but fails to disclose why they believe this. In these cases, it is impossible to judge Hancock’s arguments based on the merits of the case.

Hancock concludes his book by coming full circle. He reveals his belief that an ancient civilization existed on the continent of Antarctica and that it was essentially destroyed when the earth’s crust shifted and placed the continent on the earth’s South Pole. There were a few survivors, however, who managed to pass on their knowledge to other civilizations, like Egypt and places in Central and South America. Hancock believes this explains why these cultures have so many common traditions and legends (e.g. a cataclysmic worldwide flood).

Furthermore, Hancock believes that within the Pyramids and other devices (e.g. the Mayan calendar), are complex codes meant to be deciphered by future advanced civilizations such as ourselves. These codes, Hancock believes, spell out when the next great crust displacement is to take place, giving us warning. Most of these conclusions are based on bold speculations, not facts, so I don’t want to criticize Hancock too much for thinking outside of the box. These warnings don’t seem to do us much good, however, as Hancock proposes we do little more than set up safe havens that would hopefully survive the next great crust displacement.

Overall, Hancock’s book is fascinating. He explores several ancient cultures and civilizations, opening up a world previously unknown to millions of readers (myself included). While the book is initially hard to get into and hits a few tedious spots along the way, for the most part, Hancock holds the reader’s attention while relating fascinating mysteries of the ancient world.

Matthew Cochrane works in law enforcement in South Florida. He blogs regularly at Not Conformed Thoughts where, according to his legions of admiring fans, he keeps busy making up a “bunch of bull crap rules.” He then uses those rules as “excuses” to delete comments he doesn’t like. Those who don’t know him say he is a weak person who “probably” has got some “real issues.” He is also widely known by those who have never met him to be immature with no sense of humor. In his spare time he is a contributing editor at Conservative 21, a website dedicate to defending conservative ideals and principles.

Halloween and Reformation Day Special: Summoning the Spirits of Reformed Theology

As the manager of a blog that looks at paranormal phenomena from a reformed theological point of view, October 31 is an especially exciting day because, not only is today Halloween, it is also Reformation Day!

To celebrate the conglomeration of these two great holidays I have decided to fuse these two events in a way that only this blog can do. Every year I am going to conjure the great spirits of reformed theology.

This year I have summoned the spirit of B. B. Warfield. Warfield was a few hundred years too late to be considered a reformer, but he was definitely a giant of reformed theology in his time. In 1887 Warfield was appointed to the Charles Hodge Chair at Princeton Theological Seminary, where he succeeded Hodge's son A. A. Hodge. Warfield remained there until his death in 1921. As the last conservative successor to Hodge to live prior to the re-organization of Princeton Seminary, Warfield is often regarded as the last of the Princeton Theologians. On a personal note, B. B. Warfield is also in my family tree - my great, great, great-grandfather's cousin - or something like that.

The following is his essay The Angels of Christ's Little Ones and can be found in his Selected Shorter Writings:

In the midst of one of our Lord's most significant discourses, there occurs, as recorded by Matthew, this warning: “See and despise not one of these little ones; for I tell you that their angels in the heavens look ever on the face of my Father who is in the heavens.” So, at least, Mr. James Moffatt renders it, with perhaps unnecessary literality, in his Historical New Testament. The authors of the Twentieth Century New Testament present it in this form: “Beware of despising one of these lowly ones, for in Heaven, I tell you, their angels always see the face of my heavenly Father.” Perhaps the emphases of the saying may be brought out by some such rendering as this: “See that ye despise not a single one of these little ones; for I say unto you that it is the angels that belong to them, which in the heavens continually behold the face of my Father which is in the heavens.” It is a passage, which, in the familiar form given it in our common version, is much upon our lips. But it is one of those passages which it is easier to repeat as a whole than to explain in detail. And it may be doubted whether we always pause before we make use of it, to ask whether we are employing it in the exact sense our Lord intended to be put upon it. Certainly there are puzzling questions that emerge as soon as we scrutinize it with care, on the answers to be returned to which serious students are by no means agreed. Who are these “little ones,” not a single one of whom we ought to dare to despise? What is meant by their angels – their own special angels as emphatically as the combined employment of the definite article and the possessive pronoun can mark them out? What is implied by the continual looking upon the heavenly Father's face in heaven by these angels? And how does the fact that their angels continually behold the Father's face in heaven give support to the warning that we must not despise a single one of these “little ones” on earth? Every one of these questions, at least, must receive a distinct reply before we can attach a definite meaning to the passage. Let us make a beginning by looking somewhat closely at one of them. What is meant by “the angels of these little ones?”

The answer that has been most commonly given, at least from Origen's day, has been that “guardian” or “tutelary” angels are meant. Origen himself seems to have no doubt of it. Speaking of God's goodness to those that approach him in prayer, he remarks that not only may the angels in general be employed for their aid, “but also the angel of each, even of those who are little in the Church, always beholding the face of the Father that is in the heavens and gazing on the Godhead of him that created us, prays with us and works with us, as far as possible, for the things for which we pray.” Elsewhere he tells us that not only has each church an angel, as we are told in the Apocalypse, but each of us, down to the least in the Church of God, has his own angel, who for our support and gain continually beholds the face of the Father who is in Heaven. To the later fathers this has become an axiom. “Each one of us,” insists Chrysostom, “has an angel.” “All Christians,” declares Macarius, “at the moment of baptism, receive each, an angel from God.” The idea has become an article of faith in the Church of Rome. And it seems to be little less than an article of faith to many Protestant commentators, if we may judge by the dogmatism of their assertion of it. “The belief that every individual has a guardian angel – which is a post-Babylonian development of the Old Testament view that God exercised his care over his people through angelic instrumentality – is here confirmed by Jesus (Acts 12:15) – a point which is to be simply admitted,” and not softened by an “as it were,” as Bleek seeks to do, or the like. That is the decisive way in which Meyer expresses himself. And he has a great host in his company.

Nevertheless, this confidently held opinion is by no means free from difficulty. Certainly, for one thing, the Bible knows nothing elsewhere of this doctrine of “guardian angels.” Unless it is alluded to here and in the parallel passage (Acts 12:15) there is not a word in the whole Bible that in the remotest way suggests it. Indeed, it is not unusual for the commentators to claim a Biblical basis for it. They rather suppose our Lord here, and the early Christians reported in Acts, to adduce a popular Jewish belief, which had grown up since the close of the Old Testament canon, and the only clear traces of which in the New Testament are discoverable in just these two passages. Thus Page, commenting on the passage in Acts, remarks that “It was a popular belief among the Jews that each man had a guardian angel”; and Knowling a bit more unguardedly asserts that “According to Jewish ideas they would believe that Peter's guardian angel had assumed his form and voice and stood before the door.” It certainly is, however, on the face of it, rash to assume that our Lord took up into his teaching a popular piece of Jewish angelology like this. It is quite contrary to the general fact regarding the general relation of his teaching to such Jewish notions. Edersheim closes his interesting account of Jewish angelology in the appendix to his Life and Times of Jesus the Messiah, with this striking judgment: “One thing, at least, must be evident. . . . The contention of certain modern writers that the teaching about angels in the New Testament is derived from and represents Jewish notions, must be perceived to be absolutely groundless and contrary to fact. In truth, the teaching of the New Testament on the subject of angels represents, as compared with that of the rabbis, not only a return to the purity of the Old Testament teaching, but we might almost say, a new revelation.”

But beyond this, it seems exceedingly rash to assume the existence of such a popular Jewish belief in our Lord's day. There exists no proof of it. The commentators give us references enough, it is true, in support of their assumption; but the references, when turned up, do not support it. They tell us a good deal about a Jewish belief in “ministering spirits sent forth to do service for the sake of them that shall inherit salvation”; but they tell us nothing of the permanent attachment of a given definite angel to a given definite individual, to be his life-long guardian. Even the classic instance – the narrative of Tobit – does not go beyond a temporary mission of ministry. The impression that this is the essence of Jewish teaching grows so strong that even when we read in Weber's excellent account of Jewish beliefs as to the personal ministry of angels, the single sentence relevant to our present investigation, that tells us that in the late rabbinical collection called the Jalkut Shimeoni, at Bereschith, 119, it is affirmed that “all Israelites have angels as companions, and that in foreign countries, as well as in the land of Israel,” we feel like suspending judgment until we can see the passage referred to. It would be very difficult for our Lord to take up into his teaching a popular Jewish notion that did not exist.

But the real difficulty of explaining these passages by the aid of the notion of “guardian angels” is that this notion does not in the least fit their requirements. Where should a “guardian angel” be, except with his ward? That is the essential idea of a “guardian angel”; he is supposed to be in the unbroken attendance upon the saint committed to his charge. But neither in Matt. 18:10, nor in Acts 12:15 are the angels spoken of found with their wards; but distinctly elsewhere. Our Lord says that the angels of the little ones of which he speaks, are not on earth with their charges, but “in heaven, constantly beholding the face of my Father who is in heaven.” It was because the Christians gathered in Mary's house could not believe it was the imprisoned Peter who was at the door, that they supposed it must be his angel. It is thus characteristic of these angels mentioned in the New Testament that they are not constantly with those whose angels they are. If “guardian angels” are intended, one wonders how it gives force to the warning that we would do well not to despise a single one of these “little ones,” to be told that their “guardian angels” are not with them but are “always in heaven, beholding the face of my Father which is in heaven.” And one wonders if Peter had a guardian angel at all, it would not be just the time when he would be supposed to be with him, when he lay languishing in prison, expectant of the worst on the morrow. Nay, one knows that God's angel – which seems something better than Peter's angel – was actually with Peter, ministering to his needs at this exact time. Mr. John Hay expresses himself with almost incredible coarseness, when he gives us to understand, in the closing lines of his pathetic ballad of “Little Breeches,” that in the view of the commonalty, angels would be in considerably “better busines” saving little children and “bringing them to their own,” than )as he phrases it) “loafing around the throne.” If we may be permitted to confine the remark specifically to “guardian angels,” whose particular function is to guide and guard the individuals whose “guardian angels” they are, it does not appear, however, but that in the essence of the matter he may be fairly right.

All these circumstances being taken into consideration, we cannot wonder that many commentators refuse to call in the notion of “guardian angels” properly so-called, and fall back on the undoubtedly Scriptural doctrine of the general employment of angels in ministering to the heirs of salvation, the great warrant for which in the New Testament is Heb. 1:14. Kubel is a good example of commentators of this class, and it may be interesting to have before us the essence of his polemic note. The definite article, along with the possessive pronoun attached to the word “angels,” he says, shows “certainly that Jesus here speaks of definite angels as charged with the care of the interests of the children of God. But,” he adds, “it does not follow from this that there are definite angels universally and permanently distributed to definite persons, especially to children, as is assumed by the theory of guardian angels. . . . Even Tobit 12:14, 15, does not go beyond the conception that one or another angel (who may be interchanged) have specially committed to them particular interests. Schanz allows that our passage does not of itself prove that 'every man has his angel,' but appeals to other indications and the teaching of many fathers. He does not say what passages gives these indications. . . . 'Their angels,' accordingly, are angels in general (certainly definite angels for definite cases) as watching our children. These, just as generally all angels, 'always behold,' etc. (cf. Luke 1:19).” With Kubel, Nosgen fully agrees, and, to go no further, our own American commentator , Dr. Broadus, argues strongly for the same general position.

Attractive as this explanation is, and plausibly argued as it has been by numerous commentators of the first rank, it nevertheless seems burdened with serious difficulties. The individualization of the angels spoken of in both passages, certainly is sufficiently emphatic to bid us pause before we neglect it. The definition of the angels of “these little ones,” in Matt. 18:10, by means of both the definite article and the possessive pronoun, is very pointed. We should scarcely misrepresent it if we translated, “The specific angels belonging to them .” And in Acts 12:15, similarly, it is specifically “Peter's angel” that is brought before us. The interpretation now under consideration does not seem to do justice to this individualization. Moreover, what, on this theory, shall we say of the implication in the passage in Acts that “Peter's angel” was recognized by the maid by his voice? “She knew Peter's voice.” Apparently the visitation was pronounced to be Peter's angel only because it seemed to be Peter. This fact presents a great difficulty even when we think of Peter's special “guardian angel”; for why should one's guardian angel be like him? Surely this necessity, if it be a necessity, must introduce searchings of heart among “guardian angels”! And if we are to think not of a “guardian angel” but only of one of God's angels sent on a special ministry of succor to Peter, the difficulty becomes insuperable. The commentators jauntily tell us, to be sure, that it was “in accordance with Jewish ideas” that it was believed that the angel had assumed Peter's form and voice; but they have neglected to quote the evidence that the Jews of that day – or of any day – had any notions of the sort. The fact assumed seems to be inferred from this passage only, supported by nothing more germane to it than the Jewish (and Biblical) teaching that angels when they appear to men assume visible forms, at their will. There is nothing in Jewish literature, so far as has appeared, to support the notion that angels on special service, look or speak like their charges. Neither does the argument in the passage in Matthew seem to be satisfied if we assume that angels in general are meant. For how is the warning for us not to despise a single one of these little ones supported by the remark that the angels which have been from time to time employed in ministering to them – as to others – along with all other angels, constantly see the face of the Father in heaven? Surely we expect something more specific to give point to so specific a caution.

This failure of what must be recognized as the simplest and most natural explanation of the phrase “their angels,” to fulfill the conditions of its use, predisposes us to hospitality towards other suggestions, even though we may have to go far afield for them. Olshausen hinted at such an explanation, when he suggested that the underlying conception is that “there lives in the world of spirit the archetype of every individual, to be realized in the course of his development,” and that “the higher consciousness which dwells in man here below, therefore, stands in living connection with the kindred phenomena of the spirit world.” Something of the same kind is suggested also by F. D. Maurice in his Unity of the New Testament. He supposes that the “angels” of little children, that is, as he explains, “are ever present with God, ever looking up into his face.” Obviously, here are reflections of the Platonic doctrine of “ideas,” which there is little in the Scriptural doctrine of angels to justify. The same general notion has, however, been taken up and given precision and unexpected attractiveness by Dr. James Hope Moulton in an interesting article in the July number of The Journal of Theological Studies. Dr. Moulton does not go to Plato for the origin of the conception which he thinks underlies our passages, but to the Persians and ultimately the Magians. The later Parsees, it seems, supposed man to be made up of no less than five elements: body, life, soul, form or image, and the fravashi. The fravashi is, it is explained, the part that abides in the presence of Ahura; it is, in a word, as Darmesteter remarks, the divine element in man, the only immortal element in his nature, by union with which alone the “soul” escapes perishing with the “body.” In the Avestan stage of Parsism, however, the fravashis appear not so much as an “inseparable part of man, the part which is hidden with God,” as angelic representatives or “doubles” of good men and perhaps of communities. Dr. Moulton supposes that the Jews picked up this notion during the exile and worked it into the complex of their own angelology. He thinks it already appears as the “princes,” representatives of the nations, in the latter part of Daniel; and again in the “angels” of the churches in Revelation. And he proposes to interpret Matt. 18:10 and Acts 12:15 out of this conception. The essence of the idea is that “the angel” is not the guardian but the representative, the “double” of the person with whom he is associated. These “representative angels” are to be conceived “as spiritual counterparts of human individuals or communities, dwelling in heaven, but subject to changes depending on the good and evil behavior of their complimentary beings on earth.”

The attractiveness of Dr. Moulton’s suggestion grows out of two circumstances. First, he is able to point to an actually existing conception, into contact with which the Jews may have come and which they may really have assimilated. And secondly, this conception does yield a fair account of the chief phenomenon of our passages, before which the common assumption that “guardian angels” are meant is helpless. If by Peter’s “angel” is meant Peter’s “double,” it is not so difficult to understand how it could have been supposed to be mistaken for himself. If by the “angels of these little ones” is meant their heavenly representatives, hidden with God, it is not difficult to understand how due reverence for these little ones could be inculcated by the revelation that just their representatives stood especially close around the Father’s throne.

Nevertheless, this new explanation seems to us beset with difficulties of its own. Primarily there is the very serious difficulty of finding traces of the Zoroastrian notion adduced in the Biblical text at all. In order to do so, Dr. Moulton sweeps together passages which on the surface appear sufficiently incongruous. The “princes” of Daniel and the “angels of the churches” in the apocalypse – what, on the face of it, have they in common with the “angels of these little ones” of Matthew and “Peter’s angel” of Acts? Assuredly, very different conceptions underlie these two pairs of passages. And these two pairs of passages are all the passages that Dr. Moulton can find to which to make appeal with any confidence. Next, Dr. Moulton has not, as yet at least, been able to adduce any direct or even plausible evidence of the intrusion of this Zoroastrian conception into Jewish or early Christian thought. The only two Christian passages he has quoted which seem possibly to show the influence of this circle of ideas, come from somewhat late Syriac documents – the Testament of the Lord and the Hymn of the Soul – in which they do not seem to represent primitive Christian ideas. Lastly, the conception proposed does not after all meet all the requirements of the passages themselves. Surely, in neither of our passages is there talk of a heavenly counterpart hidden with God, whose fortunes and destiny are determined by the conduct and issues of the earthly life of its “principal.” Rather, if we should enter this circle of ideas at all, in Matt. 18:10, it might seem to be the precise opposite that is assumed; the high state of the “angels” in heaven is the prius to which the fortunes of the “little ones” on earth shall be conformed. And why, on this theory, should Peter’s heavenly counterpart, and not rather his earthly soul, be found, clothed in his earthly semblance, knocking at an earthly door? The appearance is very strong that the only point at which Dr. Moulton’s theory fits into the requirements of the passages is the single point which the theory of “guardian angels” failed to fit – viz. It gives us “angels” who may be supposed to be in heaven and not on earth, and who may be supposed to have some resemblance (though surely not external) to their clients. Are we prepared to purchase this bit of adjustment at the cost of everything else?

There is yet another explanation which has sometimes been suggested, but which has been received with very little consideration by scholars. This is the very simple one that by “angel” in these passages is meant just “the disembodied soul. Webster and Wilkinson explain Matt. 18:10 thus. The souls of these little ones, they say in effect, when they go to heaven, stand peculiarly near the throne. Subsequent commentators have for the most part treated the suggestion with silent contempt or, if they mention it, with a contempt that is not silent. “Not their own ‘spirits after death,’ as Webster and Wilkinson strangely suppose,” is Morrison’s comment. “There have been many opinions” on this verse, says Alford, “some of which (e.g. that given by Webster and Wilkinson, ‘angels, their spirits after death’: a meaning which the word never bore – see Suicer sub voce – and one respecting which our Lord never could have spoken in the present tense, with ‘constantly’) have been broached merely to evade the plain sense of the words.” Ah! if there only were a “plain sense of the words!” Webster and Wilkinson cannot, it must be admitted, be numbered among expositors of the first rank. But possibly few will deny that position to Reuss. And he, though willing to admit the idea of tutelary angels in this passage, broaches something very like Webster and Wilkinson’s idea at Acts 12:15; only to receive, to be sure, from the hands of Barde something like the same contemptuous treatment, and from the hands of Gloag a somewhat more serious but scarcely more deferential refutation. It may be worth our while, nevertheless, to hear what Reuss has to say. “A great difficulty,” he says, “attaches to the phrase we have rendered by the words, ‘It is his spirit.’ Ordinarily, it is translated, ‘his angel.’ But that does not seem to us to yield a plausible sense. The angel of Peter should be strictly his tutelary angel, an idea not foreign to his epoch (Tobit; Matt. 18:10); but we must observe that the servant professes to have recognized Peter by his voice, and nobody has ever said that the tutelary angels imitate the voice of their clients. On the other hand, it is clear that the intention is to designate something superior to this material world, to our mode of existence, since it could not be Peter himself (in the opinion of the people present), while yet it was his voice, something that could come only from him. It is not strange, at bottom, that the same word should be employed for angel and spirit (ghost), the latter word having with us both usages.”

Assuredly, if we could dare take the word “angel” in these passages in the sense of disembodied spirit, the requirements of both passages would be satisfied. What more natural than that the Christian brethren assembled in Mary's house, when assured by the maid that Peter stood at the door, speaking with Peter's voice – though they knew him to be closely guarded in prison, or perhaps already in worse case than even this – should have sprung to the only other possible explanation of the phenomenon: “It is his spirit!” Dr. Moulton remarks, it is true: “The incredulous Christians, if they meant Peter’s ghost, must have thought of a ‘phantasm of the living,’ for there is no suggestion that they supposed he was dead without their having heard it.” But this does not seem convincing. There is every suggestion that they knew he was destined for death and feared the worst; and there is no reason why they may not have jumped to the conclusion that the worst had come and they were being only now and thus advertised of it. Many others, in every age of the world, have done this very thing. The only difficulty derived from the passage itself, that strikes us, is the occurance in the immediate contect (vs. 7 and 9) of the same word “angel” in a different sense, to wit, in the sense of “:the angel of the Lord” sent to minister to this saint. It would be ordinarily more natural to understand “It is his angel,” in verse 15, as referring to the same angel whose transactions with Peter are recorded in verses 7-10. But this consideration is weakened by the fact that the words in verse 15 are quoted words, and the scene there depicted does not presuppose in the minds of the actors in it the previous scene, but derives its whole force from the contrary assumption. In these circumstances the use of “angel” in its ordinary sense in verses 7-10 can scarcely be treated as a bar to its employment in a secondary and derived sense in verse 15.

In the passage in Matthew, nothing could seem more appropriate than the sense of “disembodied spirits.” What could so enhance the reverence with which “these little ones” - especially if literal children are meant – should be treated here than the assurance that it is specifically their souls which in heaven stand closest to the Father's throne? Alford, indeed, tells us that this sense is rendered impossible by the use of the present tense and the qualifying word “continually.” But neither does this seem convincing. We must remember that it is a class that is here spoken of: a class, some members of which are safely gathered into the heavens though others still abide on earth. Of this class it is stated that their souls find in the heavens their due station close to the Father's throne; “they continually look on the face of my Father which is in heaven.” Surely nothing could so heighten the sense of the real dignity that belongs to these little ones, whether the specially humble or the specially young be intended, than such a declaration. They may be lowly on earth; in the heavens they are lifted up.

Is it so impossible, then, that the term “angel” could come to be occasionally employed of disembodied spirits? From the general philological point of view the legitimacy of such an extension of its meaning is, of course, indisputable. Indeed, we may say such an extension was inevitable. That the term should come to be applied not only to angels properly so called, but to “persons who resemble angels either in attributes or actions,” was as certain as that it should continue in use at all. Consider what a multitude of applications it has received in English, for example. When Scott tells us that Marmion, on crossing the court, “scattered angels 'round,” it is not of “heavenly messengers” he is speaking. The specific extension we are concerned with here has also, as was inevitable, been made in our current English speech. Who of us has not been taught as a child to sing: “I want to be an angel, and with the angels stand?” Some of the elders may have shaken their heads and spoken severely of corrupting the meaning of sacred words. But the song has raised little consciousness of incongruity in the minds of the congregation. An extension so simple as the application of a term, designating spiritual beings, blessed in the heavens, enjoying close communion with God, to all beings sharing these fundamental characteristics, was sure to take place. The only question of interest is whether it can be shown actually to have taken place as early as the first Christian century. And the existence of two passages, best explained by the assumption that it had already taken place in our Lord's day, goes far to give reply to this question in the affirmative. Just on the basis of Matt. 18:10 and Acts 12:15 we might almost affirm the existence of this meaning.

Additional likelihood is given to this assumption by the existence of a natural point of departure for such an extension of the meaning for the word. Replying to an entangling question of the Saducees, our Lord declared that God's people in the resurrection “shall be as God's angels in heaven” (Matt. 22:30). The primary reference here is to marriage; but that the resemblance is not to be confined to this is evident from the parallel passage in Luke (20:36). There it is said that “they that are accounted worthy to attain to that world and the resurrection from the dead neither marry nor are given in marriage; for neither can they die anymore; for they are equal unto the angels; and are sons of God, being sons of the resurrection.” Here the emphasis seems to be on immortality. This revelation of the similarity of our glorified state to the state of angels supplies a very distinct point of departure for the employment of the term “angels” to designate our future condition. We cannot be surprised, therefore, to find this step actually taken in the Acts of Paul and Thecla, where we read, “Blessed are they that fear God, for they shall become angels of God.” Here there is, moreover, no direct reference to the resurrection, though naturally it is the fruition of the Messianic blessings that is in mind. The main point, however, is that the blessed estate of the children of God is no longer conceived merely as like that of angels, but as the angelic state itself. Nor do we lack further proof that this mode of thought and speech was current in the days of our Lord. Both in the Ethiopic Book of Enoch, coming from pre-Christian Jewish hands, and in the Apocalypse of Baruch, coming from post-Christian Jewish hands, we meet essentially the same conception. In Enoch we read that the righteous are all “to become angels in heaven”; and in the Apocalypse of Baruch that they shall be “transformed into the splendor of angels,” and even (li. 12) shall “surpass the excellency of angels.” On the passage in Enoch Charles comments: “This is not to be weakened down into a mere likeness to the angels. At least it denotes an equality with them.” His whole note should be read. It is not quite exact to say with Alford, then, that to attribute to the word “angels” the sense of “spirits of righteous men after death” is to give it “a meaning which the word never bore.” The righteous in their eternal state are spoken of as “angels” in both Jewish and early Christian documents. And it is not the least of the circumstances commending this interpretation of our passages to our best consideration that it proposes to explain them out of a conception demonstrably current in the days of our Lord.

It is perhaps unwise to draw conclusions too definite from such a survey. There has been suggested no explanation of these two unique phrases - “the angels of these little ones” and “Peter's angel” - which has not difficulties in its way. Possibly it may be found, however, that the interpretation which sees in them designations of disembodied spirits, despite the scorn with which this suggestion has ordinarily been treated, has more to say for itself and fewer difficulties to face than any other. It satisfies all the conditions of the passages themselves – which cannot be said of any of its rivals. It is rooted in a natural extension of the common meaning of the term employed. And it presupposes no conceptions which cannot be shown to have existed in the circles out of which Christianity arose – which again cannot be said of its chief rivals. Perhaps that is as much as we should ask before we give it our preference.

"The Angels of Christ's Little Ones" by B. B. Warfield

In 1887 B. B. Warfield was appointed to the Charles Hodge Chair at Princeton Theological Seminary, where he succeeded Hodge's son A. A. Hodge. Warfield remained there until his death in 1921. As the last conservative successor to Hodge to live prior to the re-organization of Princeton Seminary, Warfield is often regarded as the last of the Princeton Theologians. Born too late to be one of the church's great reformers, Warfield is a giant in reformed theology and his works have influenced millions.

The following is his essay The Angels of Christ's Little Ones and can be found in his Selected Shorter Writings:

In the midst of one of our Lord's most significant discourses, there occurs, as recorded by Matthew, this warning: “See and despise not one of these little ones; for I tell you that their angels in the heavens look ever on the face of my Father who is in the heavens.” So, at least, Mr. James Moffatt renders it, with perhaps unnecessary literality, in his Historical New Testament. The authors of the Twentieth Century New Testament present it in this form: “Beware of despising one of these lowly ones, for in Heaven, I tell you, their angels always see the face of my heavenly Father.” Perhaps the emphases of the saying may be brought out by some such rendering as this: “See that ye despise not a single one of these little ones; for I say unto you that it is the angels that belong to them, which in the heavens continually behold the face of my Father which is in the heavens.” It is a passage, which, in the familiar form given it in our common version, is much upon our lips. But it is one of those passages which it is easier to repeat as a whole than to explain in detail. And it may be doubted whether we always pause before we make use of it, to ask whether we are employing it in the exact sense our Lord intended to be put upon it. Certainly there are puzzling questions that emerge as soon as we scrutinize it with care, on the answers to be returned to which serious students are by no means agreed. Who are these “little ones,” not a single one of whom we ought to dare to despise? What is meant by their angels – their own special angels as emphatically as the combined employment of the definite article and the possessive pronoun can mark them out? What is implied by the continual looking upon the heavenly Father's face in heaven by these angels? And how does the fact that their angels continually behold the Father's face in heaven give support to the warning that we must not despise a single one of these “little ones” on earth? Every one of these questions, at least, must receive a distinct reply before we can attach a definite meaning to the passage. Let us make a beginning by looking somewhat closely at one of them. What is meant by “the angels of these little ones?”

The answer that has been most commonly given, at least from Origen's day, has been that “guardian” or “tutelary” angels are meant. Origen himself seems to have no doubt of it. Speaking of God's goodness to those that approach him in prayer, he remarks that not only may the angels in general be employed for their aid, “but also the angel of each, even of those who are little in the Church, always beholding the face of the Father that is in the heavens and gazing on the Godhead of him that created us, prays with us and works with us, as far as possible, for the things for which we pray.” Elsewhere he tells us that not only has each church an angel, as we are told in the Apocalypse, but each of us, down to the least in the Church of God, has his own angel, who for our support and gain continually beholds the face of the Father who is in Heaven. To the later fathers this has become an axiom. “Each one of us,” insists Chrysostom, “has an angel.” “All Christians,” declares Macarius, “at the moment of baptism, receive each, an angel from God.” The idea has become an article of faith in the Church of Rome. And it seems to be little less than an article of faith to many Protestant commentators, if we may judge by the dogmatism of their assertion of it. “The belief that every individual has a guardian angel – which is a post-Babylonian development of the Old Testament view that God exercised his care over his people through angelic instrumentality – is here confirmed by Jesus (Acts 12:15) – a point which is to be simply admitted,” and not softened by an “as it were,” as Bleek seeks to do, or the like. That is the decisive way in which Meyer expresses himself. And he has a great host in his company.

Nevertheless, this confidently held opinion is by no means free from difficulty. Certainly, for one thing, the Bible knows nothing elsewhere of this doctrine of “guardian angels.” Unless it is alluded to here and in the parallel passage (Acts 12:15) there is not a word in the whole Bible that in the remotest way suggests it. Indeed, it is not unusual for the commentators to claim a Biblical basis for it. They rather suppose our Lord here, and the early Christians reported in Acts, to adduce a popular Jewish belief, which had grown up since the close of the Old Testament canon, and the only clear traces of which in the New Testament are discoverable in just these two passages. Thus Page, commenting on the passage in Acts, remarks that “It was a popular belief among the Jews that each man had a guardian angel”; and Knowling a bit more unguardedly asserts that “According to Jewish ideas they would believe that Peter's guardian angel had assumed his form and voice and stood before the door.” It certainly is, however, on the face of it, rash to assume that our Lord took up into his teaching a popular piece of Jewish angelology like this. It is quite contrary to the general fact regarding the general relation of his teaching to such Jewish notions. Edersheim closes his interesting account of Jewish angelology in the appendix to his Life and Times of Jesus the Messiah, with this striking judgment: “One thing, at least, must be evident. . . . The contention of certain modern writers that the teaching about angels in the New Testament is derived from and represents Jewish notions, must be perceived to be absolutely groundless and contrary to fact. In truth, the teaching of the New Testament on the subject of angels represents, as compared with that of the rabbis, not only a return to the purity of the Old Testament teaching, but we might almost say, a new revelation.”

But beyond this, it seems exceedingly rash to assume the existence of such a popular Jewish belief in our Lord's day. There exists no proof of it. The commentators give us references enough, it is true, in support of their assumption; but the references, when turned up, do not support it. They tell us a good deal about a Jewish belief in “ministering spirits sent forth to do service for the sake of them that shall inherit salvation”; but they tell us nothing of the permanent attachment of a given definite angel to a given definite individual, to be his life-long guardian. Even the classic instance – the narrative of Tobit – does not go beyond a temporary mission of ministry. The impression that this is the essence of Jewish teaching grows so strong that even when we read in Weber's excellent account of Jewish beliefs as to the personal ministry of angels, the single sentence relevant to our present investigation, that tells us that in the late rabbinical collection called the Jalkut Shimeoni, at Bereschith, 119, it is affirmed that “all Israelites have angels as companions, and that in foreign countries, as well as in the land of Israel,” we feel like suspending judgment until we can see the passage referred to. It would be very difficult for our Lord to take up into his teaching a popular Jewish notion that did not exist.

But the real difficulty of explaining these passages by the aid of the notion of “guardian angels” is that this notion does not in the least fit their requirements. Where should a “guardian angel” be, except with his ward? That is the essential idea of a “guardian angel”; he is supposed to be in the unbroken attendance upon the saint committed to his charge. But neither in Matt. 18:10, nor in Acts 12:15 are the angels spoken of found with their wards; but distinctly elsewhere. Our Lord says that the angels of the little ones of which he speaks, are not on earth with their charges, but “in heaven, constantly beholding the face of my Father who is in heaven.” It was because the Christians gathered in Mary's house could not believe it was the imprisoned Peter who was at the door, that they supposed it must be his angel. It is thus characteristic of these angels mentioned in the New Testament that they are not constantly with those whose angels they are. If “guardian angels” are intended, one wonders how it gives force to the warning that we would do well not to despise a single one of these “little ones,” to be told that their “guardian angels” are not with them but are “always in heaven, beholding the face of my Father which is in heaven.” And one wonders if Peter had a guardian angel at all, it would not be just the time when he would be supposed to be with him, when he lay languishing in prison, expectant of the worst on the morrow. Nay, one knows that God's angel – which seems something better than Peter's angel – was actually with Peter, ministering to his needs at this exact time. Mr. John Hay expresses himself with almost incredible coarseness, when he gives us to understand, in the closing lines of his pathetic ballad of “Little Breeches,” that in the view of the commonalty, angels would be in considerably “better busines” saving little children and “bringing them to their own,” than )as he phrases it) “loafing around the throne.” If we may be permitted to confine the remark specifically to “guardian angels,” whose particular function is to guide and guard the individuals whose “guardian angels” they are, it does not appear, however, but that in the essence of the matter he may be fairly right.

All these circumstances being taken into consideration, we cannot wonder that many commentators refuse to call in the notion of “guardian angels” properly so-called, and fall back on the undoubtedly Scriptural doctrine of the general employment of angels in ministering to the heirs of salvation, the great warrant for which in the New Testament is Heb. 1:14. Kubel is a good example of commentators of this class, and it may be interesting to have before us the essence of his polemic note. The definite article, along with the possessive pronoun attached to the word “angels,” he says, shows “certainly that Jesus here speaks of definite angels as charged with the care of the interests of the children of God. But,” he adds, “it does not follow from this that there are definite angels universally and permanently distributed to definite persons, especially to children, as is assumed by the theory of guardian angels. . . . Even Tobit 12:14, 15, does not go beyond the conception that one or another angel (who may be interchanged) have specially committed to them particular interests. Schanz allows that our passage does not of itself prove that 'every man has his angel,' but appeals to other indications and the teaching of many fathers. He does not say what passages gives these indications. . . . 'Their angels,' accordingly, are angels in general (certainly definite angels for definite cases) as watching our children. These, just as generally all angels, 'always behold,' etc. (cf. Luke 1:19).” With Kubel, Nosgen fully agrees, and, to go no further, our own American commentator , Dr. Broadus, argues strongly for the same general position.

Attractive as this explanation is, and plausibly argued as it has been by numerous commentators of the first rank, it nevertheless seems burdened with serious difficulties. The individualization of the angels spoken of in both passages, certainly is sufficiently emphatic to bid us pause before we neglect it. The definition of the angels of “these little ones,” in Matt. 18:10, by means of both the definite article and the possessive pronoun, is very pointed. We should scarcely misrepresent it if we translated, “The specific angels belonging to them .” And in Acts 12:15, similarly, it is specifically “Peter's angel” that is brought before us. The interpretation now under consideration does not seem to do justice to this individualization. Moreover, what, on this theory, shall we say of the implication in the passage in Acts that “Peter's angel” was recognized by the maid by his voice? “She knew Peter's voice.” Apparently the visitation was pronounced to be Peter's angel only because it seemed to be Peter. This fact presents a great difficulty even when we think of Peter's special “guardian angel”; for why should one's guardian angel be like him? Surely this necessity, if it be a necessity, must introduce searchings of heart among “guardian angels”! And if we are to think not of a “guardian angel” but only of one of God's angels sent on a special ministry of succor to Peter, the difficulty becomes insuperable. The commentators jauntily tell us, to be sure, that it was “in accordance with Jewish ideas” that it was believed that the angel had assumed Peter's form and voice; but they have neglected to quote the evidence that the Jews of that day – or of any day – had any notions of the sort. The fact assumed seems to be inferred from this passage only, supported by nothing more germane to it than the Jewish (and Biblical) teaching that angels when they appear to men assume visible forms, at their will. There is nothing in Jewish literature, so far as has appeared, to support the notion that angels on special service, look or speak like their charges. Neither does the argument in the passage in Matthew seem to be satisfied if we assume that angels in general are meant. For how is the warning for us not to despise a single one of these little ones supported by the remark that the angels which have been from time to time employed in ministering to them – as to others – along with all other angels, constantly see the face of the Father in heaven? Surely we expect something more specific to give point to so specific a caution.

This failure of what must be recognized as the simplest and most natural explanation of the phrase “their angels,” to fulfill the conditions of its use, predisposes us to hospitality towards other suggestions, even though we may have to go far afield for them. Olshausen hinted at such an explanation, when he suggested that the underlying conception is that “there lives in the world of spirit the archetype of every individual, to be realized in the course of his development,” and that “the higher consciousness which dwells in man here below, therefore, stands in living connection with the kindred phenomena of the spirit world.” Something of the same kind is suggested also by F. D. Maurice in his Unity of the New Testament. He supposes that the “angels” of little children, that is, as he explains, “are ever present with God, ever looking up into his face.” Obviously, here are reflections of the Platonic doctrine of “ideas,” which there is little in the Scriptural doctrine of angels to justify. The same general notion has, however, been taken up and given precision and unexpected attractiveness by Dr. James Hope Moulton in an interesting article in the July number of The Journal of Theological Studies. Dr. Moulton does not go to Plato for the origin of the conception which he thinks underlies our passages, but to the Persians and ultimately the Magians. The later Parsees, it seems, supposed man to be made up of no less than five elements: body, life, soul, form or image, and the fravashi. The fravashi is, it is explained, the part that abides in the presence of Ahura; it is, in a word, as Darmesteter remarks, the divine element in man, the only immortal element in his nature, by union with which alone the “soul” escapes perishing with the “body.” In the Avestan stage of Parsism, however, the fravashis appear not so much as an “inseparable part of man, the part which is hidden with God,” as angelic representatives or “doubles” of good men and perhaps of communities. Dr. Moulton supposes that the Jews picked up this notion during the exile and worked it into the complex of their own angelology. He thinks it already appears as the “princes,” representatives of the nations, in the latter part of Daniel; and again in the “angels” of the churches in Revelation. And he proposes to interpret Matt. 18:10 and Acts 12:15 out of this conception. The essence of the idea is that “the angel” is not the guardian but the representative, the “double” of the person with whom he is associated. These “representative angels” are to be conceived “as spiritual counterparts of human individuals or communities, dwelling in heaven, but subject to changes depending on the good and evil behavior of their complimentary beings on earth.”

The attractiveness of Dr. Moulton’s suggestion grows out of two circumstances. First, he is able to point to an actually existing conception, into contact with which the Jews may have come and which they may really have assimilated. And secondly, this conception does yield a fair account of the chief phenomenon of our passages, before which the common assumption that “guardian angels” are meant is helpless. If by Peter’s “angel” is meant Peter’s “double,” it is not so difficult to understand how it could have been supposed to be mistaken for himself. If by the “angels of these little ones” is meant their heavenly representatives, hidden with God, it is not difficult to understand how due reverence for these little ones could be inculcated by the revelation that just their representatives stood especially close around the Father’s throne.

Nevertheless, this new explanation seems to us beset with difficulties of its own. Primarily there is the very serious difficulty of finding traces of the Zoroastrian notion adduced in the Biblical text at all. In order to do so, Dr. Moulton sweeps together passages which on the surface appear sufficiently incongruous. The “princes” of Daniel and the “angels of the churches” in the apocalypse – what, on the face of it, have they in common with the “angels of these little ones” of Matthew and “Peter’s angel” of Acts? Assuredly, very different conceptions underlie these two pairs of passages. And these two pairs of passages are all the passages that Dr. Moulton can find to which to make appeal with any confidence. Next, Dr. Moulton has not, as yet at least, been able to adduce any direct or even plausible evidence of the intrusion of this Zoroastrian conception into Jewish or early Christian thought. The only two Christian passages he has quoted which seem possibly to show the influence of this circle of ideas, come from somewhat late Syriac documents – the Testament of the Lord and the Hymn of the Soul – in which they do not seem to represent primitive Christian ideas. Lastly, the conception proposed does not after all meet all the requirements of the passages themselves. Surely, in neither of our passages is there talk of a heavenly counterpart hidden with God, whose fortunes and destiny are determined by the conduct and issues of the earthly life of its “principal.” Rather, if we should enter this circle of ideas at all, in Matt. 18:10, it might seem to be the precise opposite that is assumed; the high state of the “angels” in heaven is the prius to which the fortunes of the “little ones” on earth shall be conformed. And why, on this theory, should Peter’s heavenly counterpart, and not rather his earthly soul, be found, clothed in his earthly semblance, knocking at an earthly door? The appearance is very strong that the only point at which Dr. Moulton’s theory fits into the requirements of the passages is the single point which the theory of “guardian angels” failed to fit – viz. It gives us “angels” who may be supposed to be in heaven and not on earth, and who may be supposed to have some resemblance (though surely not external) to their clients. Are we prepared to purchase this bit of adjustment at the cost of everything else?

There is yet another explanation which has sometimes been suggested, but which has been received with very little consideration by scholars. This is the very simple one that by “angel” in these passages is meant just “the disembodied soul. Webster and Wilkinson explain Matt. 18:10 thus. The souls of these little ones, they say in effect, when they go to heaven, stand peculiarly near the throne. Subsequent commentators have for the most part treated the suggestion with silent contempt or, if they mention it, with a contempt that is not silent. “Not their own ‘spirits after death,’ as Webster and Wilkinson strangely suppose,” is Morrison’s comment. “There have been many opinions” on this verse, says Alford, “some of which (e.g. that given by Webster and Wilkinson, ‘angels, their spirits after death’: a meaning which the word never bore – see Suicer sub voce – and one respecting which our Lord never could have spoken in the present tense, with ‘constantly’) have been broached merely to evade the plain sense of the words.” Ah! if there only were a “plain sense of the words!” Webster and Wilkinson cannot, it must be admitted, be numbered among expositors of the first rank. But possibly few will deny that position to Reuss. And he, though willing to admit the idea of tutelary angels in this passage, broaches something very like Webster and Wilkinson’s idea at Acts 12:15; only to receive, to be sure, from the hands of Barde something like the same contemptuous treatment, and from the hands of Gloag a somewhat more serious but scarcely more deferential refutation. It may be worth our while, nevertheless, to hear what Reuss has to say. “A great difficulty,” he says, “attaches to the phrase we have rendered by the words, ‘It is his spirit.’ Ordinarily, it is translated, ‘his angel.’ But that does not seem to us to yield a plausible sense. The angel of Peter should be strictly his tutelary angel, an idea not foreign to his epoch (Tobit; Matt. 18:10); but we must observe that the servant professes to have recognized Peter by his voice, and nobody has ever said that the tutelary angels imitate the voice of their clients. On the other hand, it is clear that the intention is to designate something superior to this material world, to our mode of existence, since it could not be Peter himself (in the opinion of the people present), while yet it was his voice, something that could come only from him. It is not strange, at bottom, that the same word should be employed for angel and spirit (ghost), the latter word having with us both usages.”

Assuredly, if we could dare take the word “angel” in these passages in the sense of disembodied spirit, the requirements of both passages would be satisfied. What more natural than that the Christian brethren assembled in Mary's house, when assured by the maid that Peter stood at the door, speaking with Peter's voice – though they knew him to be closely guarded in prison, or perhaps already in worse case than even this – should have sprung to the only other possible explanation of the phenomenon: “It is his spirit!” Dr. Moulton remarks, it is true: “The incredulous Christians, if they meant Peter’s ghost, must have thought of a ‘phantasm of the living,’ for there is no suggestion that they supposed he was dead without their having heard it.” But this does not seem convincing. There is every suggestion that they knew he was destined for death and feared the worst; and there is no reason why they may not have jumped to the conclusion that the worst had come and they were being only now and thus advertised of it. Many others, in every age of the world, have done this very thing. The only difficulty derived from the passage itself, that strikes us, is the occurance in the immediate contect (vs. 7 and 9) of the same word “angel” in a different sense, to wit, in the sense of “:the angel of the Lord” sent to minister to this saint. It would be ordinarily more natural to understand “It is his angel,” in verse 15, as referring to the same angel whose transactions with Peter are recorded in verses 7-10. But this consideration is weakened by the fact that the words in verse 15 are quoted words, and the scene there depicted does not presuppose in the minds of the actors in it the previous scene, but derives its whole force from the contrary assumption. In these circumstances the use of “angel” in its ordinary sense in verses 7-10 can scarcely be treated as a bar to its employment in a secondary and derived sense in verse 15.

In the passage in Matthew, nothing could seem more appropriate than the sense of “disembodied spirits.” What could so enhance the reverence with which “these little ones” - especially if literal children are meant – should be treated here than the assurance that it is specifically their souls which in heaven stand closest to the Father's throne? Alford, indeed, tells us that this sense is rendered impossible by the use of the present tense and the qualifying word “continually.” But neither does this seem convincing. We must remember that it is a class that is here spoken of: a class, some members of which are safely gathered into the heavens though others still abide on earth. Of this class it is stated that their souls find in the heavens their due station close to the Father's throne; “they continually look on the face of my Father which is in heaven.” Surely nothing could so heighten the sense of the real dignity that belongs to these little ones, whether the specially humble or the specially young be intended, than such a declaration. They may be lowly on earth; in the heavens they are lifted up.

Is it so impossible, then, that the term “angel” could come to be occasionally employed of disembodied spirits? From the general philological point of view the legitimacy of such an extension of its meaning is, of course, indisputable. Indeed, we may say such an extension was inevitable. That the term should come to be applied not only to angels properly so called, but to “persons who resemble angels either in attributes or actions,” was as certain as that it should continue in use at all. Consider what a multitude of applications it has received in English, for example. When Scott tells us that Marmion, on crossing the court, “scattered angels 'round,” it is not of “heavenly messengers” he is speaking. The specific extension we are concerned with here has also, as was inevitable, been made in our current English speech. Who of us has not been taught as a child to sing: “I want to be an angel, and with the angels stand?” Some of the elders may have shaken their heads and spoken severely of corrupting the meaning of sacred words. But the song has raised little consciousness of incongruity in the minds of the congregation. An extension so simple as the application of a term, designating spiritual beings, blessed in the heavens, enjoying close communion with God, to all beings sharing these fundamental characteristics, was sure to take place. The only question of interest is whether it can be shown actually to have taken place as early as the first Christian century. And the existence of two passages, best explained by the assumption that it had already taken place in our Lord's day, goes far to give reply to this question in the affirmative. Just on the basis of Matt. 18:10 and Acts 12:15 we might almost affirm the existence of this meaning.

Additional likelihood is given to this assumption by the existence of a natural point of departure for such an extension of the meaning for the word. Replying to an entangling question of the Saducees, our Lord declared that God's people in the resurrection “shall be as God's angels in heaven” (Matt. 22:30). The primary reference here is to marriage; but that the resemblance is not to be confined to this is evident from the parallel passage in Luke (20:36). There it is said that “they that are accounted worthy to attain to that world and the resurrection from the dead neither marry nor are given in marriage; for neither can they die anymore; for they are equal unto the angels; and are sons of God, being sons of the resurrection.” Here the emphasis seems to be on immortality. This revelation of the similarity of our glorified state to the state of angels supplies a very distinct point of departure for the employment of the term “angels” to designate our future condition. We cannot be surprised, therefore, to find this step actually taken in the Acts of Paul and Thecla, where we read, “Blessed are they that fear God, for they shall become angels of God.” Here there is, moreover, no direct reference to the resurrection, though naturally it is the fruition of the Messianic blessings that is in mind. The main point, however, is that the blessed estate of the children of God is no longer conceived merely as like that of angels, but as the angelic state itself. Nor do we lack further proof that this mode of thought and speech was current in the days of our Lord. Both in the Ethiopic Book of Enoch, coming from pre-Christian Jewish hands, and in the Apocalypse of Baruch, coming from post-Christian Jewish hands, we meet essentially the same conception. In Enoch we read that the righteous are all “to become angels in heaven”; and in the Apocalypse of Baruch that they shall be “transformed into the splendor of angels,” and even (li. 12) shall “surpass the excellency of angels.” On the passage in Enoch Charles comments: “This is not to be weakened down into a mere likeness to the angels. At least it denotes an equality with them.” His whole note should be read. It is not quite exact to say with Alford, then, that to attribute to the word “angels” the sense of “spirits of righteous men after death” is to give it “a meaning which the word never bore.” The righteous in their eternal state are spoken of as “angels” in both Jewish and early Christian documents. And it is not the least of the circumstances commending this interpretation of our passages to our best consideration that it proposes to explain them out of a conception demonstrably current in the days of our Lord.

It is perhaps unwise to draw conclusions too definite from such a survey. There has been suggested no explanation of these two unique phrases - “the angels of these little ones” and “Peter's angel” - which has not difficulties in its way. Possibly it may be found, however, that the interpretation which sees in them designations of disembodied spirits, despite the scorn with which this suggestion has ordinarily been treated, has more to say for itself and fewer difficulties to face than any other. It satisfies all the conditions of the passages themselves – which cannot be said of any of its rivals. It is rooted in a natural extension of the common meaning of the term employed. And it presupposes no conceptions which cannot be shown to have existed in the circles out of which Christianity arose – which again cannot be said of its chief rivals. Perhaps that is as much as we should ask before we give it our preference.

Editor's Note: Click Here to view my series on Angels.