Our readings this week are Revelation 12.7–12 and John 1.47–51.

Revelation is often a tricky book to get to grips with. Its language is so alien to our usual frames of reference—sure, we know what dragons and angels are, but our understanding of them places them almost exclusively in storybooks and films.

It’s perhaps not surprising, then, that these passages are so often read metaphorically or figuratively. One prevalent theory is that the entire book of Revelation is an extended coded metaphor—an exposition on the state of Christian life under an oppressive Roman regime that couldn't be challenged openly or publicly without risking serious recrimination. So, the beings presented as heavenly (and hellish) are really veiled references to mundane human institutions and figures. Maybe that’s the case—it’s certainly credible.

But what if it’s not? What if it’s our inability to acknowledge a reality greater than what is presented by our senses that leads us to reach for that explanation? What if there really is, somewhere, somehow, and somewhen, a war in heaven in which angels and dragons fought?

That’s the question this Sunday poses. The feast of St Michael and All Angels invites us to celebrate the presence and existence of actual, literal heavenly beings. It invites us to give thanks for their work through the ages as messengers and emissaries of God, bringing His word, His help, and His power into our world. It’s not a very 21st-century thought, is it?

But what if it’s true? What if angels are not just relics of an ancient worldview but real, active agents of God’s will? If so, they represent a dimension of our faith that is often overlooked or even dismissed—one that acknowledges a realm beyond what we can touch, see, or quantify.

The feast of St Michael and All Angels reminds us that our faith isn’t just about the here and now, the tangible and the explainable. It invites us to recognise that God’s work and presence extend far beyond our earthly understanding. Michael, the archangel, is depicted as a warrior who stands against the forces of evil—a cosmic battle that we may struggle to comprehend but one that we are asked to trust is taking place for our sake.

And if these spiritual realities are true, they change how we see the world. They open our eyes to the possibility that we are not alone in our struggles. The angels, these servants of God, are actively engaged in the battle for good, for justice, and for our salvation. Even the possibility of their presence is a reminder that there is more to this world than what we see—a heavenly purpose that underpins all of creation.

It’s not easy to grasp, but perhaps that’s the point. Our faith has always asked us to believe in things unseen, to hope in promises not yet fulfilled, and to trust in a God who operates both within and beyond our comprehension. Our faith calls us to humility and wonder. It asks us to acknowledge that the story of God’s redemption is far bigger than we can ever imagine, extending beyond the tiny slice of creation perceivable to us in the here and now. In his words to Nathanael, Jesus reminds us that the touching point, the place where it all comes together - divine and human, earth and heaven - is in him.  In him, the one who is both the God who walked amongst us on the earth and the man who intercedes for us in heaven.

So, this Sunday, as we celebrate the feast of St Michael and All Angels, perhaps we can be reminded of the vastness of God's power, the mysterious ways in which He works, and the unseen forces that guide and protect us. Maybe it’s time to expand our vision of reality, to embrace the possibility that God’s kingdom is more layered, more incredible, and more extraordinary than we can ever imagine.