Who Is Like God?

A Homily for the Feast of St. Michael and All Angels

Revelation 12:7–12  ·  St. Matthew 18:1–10

The Rev. Canon Michael D. Vinson

Today we celebrate that great occasion when St. Michael the Archangel made war upon Satan and his wicked angels. Hear again the words of the beloved Apostle:

And there was war in heaven: Michael and his angels fought against the dragon; and the dragon fought and his angels, and prevailed not; neither was their place found any more in heaven. And the great dragon was cast out, that old serpent, called the Devil, and Satan, which deceiveth the whole world: he was cast out into the earth, and his angels were cast out with him. (Rev. 12:7–9)

How did such a war begin? Before Eden, before the first morning of the world, “the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy” (Job 38:7). Creation began as one great choir singing one song. And into that music came a discord.

Isaiah’s lament is spoken over the proud king of Babylon, but the Fathers of the Church heard in it the fall of one greater and older still: “How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning!” (Isa. 14:12). Lucifer, the Light-bearer, first and fairest among the angelic hosts, spoke in the secret chamber of his heart:

For thou hast said in thine heart, I will ascend into heaven, I will exalt my throne above the stars of God: I will sit also upon the mount of the congregation, in the sides of the north: I will ascend above the heights of the clouds; I will be like the most High. (Isa. 14:13–14)

Mark it well, my friends. Five times: I will. I will ascend. I will exalt. I will sit. I will ascend. I will be like the Most High.

Lucifer became so enchanted with his own beauty, intelligence, and station that he desired for himself the glory belonging to God alone. Here is the root of every sin: the creature grasping at what can only be received. It was angelic pride that first brought sin into the universe, and the serpent carried that same poison into Eden: “Ye shall be as gods” (Gen. 3:5). Pride became insurrection, and, as we read in today’s Epistle, there was war in heaven.

But heaven had its answer, and the answer was a name. Michael.In the Hebrew tongue, Mi-ka-el: “Who is like God?” The captain of the Lord’s host carries in his very name the question that undoes the rebel. Lucifer cries, I will be like the Most High,and heaven replies, Who is like God?

Michael could not and would not suffer this arrogant blasphemer to stand in the presence of God. Yet mark how he fought. St. Jude tells us that even when contending with the devil, Michael “durst not bring against him a railing accusation, but said, The Lord rebuke thee” (Jude 9). The greatest warrior in heaven would not fight in his own name. The dragon fell because he would be like God; Michael stood because he knew that he was not.

And so the son of the morning was “cut down to the ground” (Isa. 14:12). Our Lord himself bore witness: “I beheld Satan as lightning fall from heaven” (Luke 10:18). The accuser was cast down, judged and condemned for his rebellion. Alleluia!

But if the dragon is cast down, why does he still roar? St. John answers plainly: “Woe to the inhabitors of the earth and of the sea! for the devil is come down unto you, having great wrath, because he knoweth that he hath but a short time” (Rev. 12:12).

The enemy is defeated, but he is not yet gone. He prowls. He deceives. He accuses. The prince of the power of the air, the robber and destroyer of all that is true, good, and beautiful, is loose upon the earth, and mankind is his battleground. In an age that trusts only what can be weighed and measured, we lose sight of that unseen war.

But the Church has always known that we do not fight alone. “Are they not all ministering spirits,” asks the Epistle to the Hebrews, “sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of salvation?” (Heb. 1:14). When the armies of Syria surrounded Elisha, and his servant trembled, the prophet prayed that the young man’s eyes might be opened, and he saw the mountain “full of horses and chariots of fire.” “Fear not,” said Elisha, “for they that be with us are more than they that be with them” (2 Kings 6:16–17).

And hear what our Lord says in today’s Gospel. The disciples came asking, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” It was the dragon’s own question. And Jesus set a little child in the midst of them and said, “Whosoever therefore shall humble himself as this little child, the same is greatest in the kingdom of heaven… Take heed that ye despise not one of these little ones; for I say unto you, That in heaven their angels do always behold the face of my Father” (Matt. 18:1–10). The least of Christ’s little ones has a guardian before the throne.

How did the angels attend to our Lord himself? When Satan tempted him in the wilderness, St. Mark tells us, “the angels ministered unto him” (Mark 1:13). And in Gethsemane, in the hour of agony and bloody sweat, he prayed:

Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me: nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done. And there appeared an angel unto him from heaven, strengthening him. (Luke 22:42–43)

Set that prayer beside Lucifer’s. The Morning Star said, I will, I will, I will. The Son of God said, Not my will, but thine. And the angels who had watched the Light-bearer refuse to bow came to strengthen the Lord of glory as he bowed to the ground.

As the angels ministered to the Head, so they minister to his Body, the Church. Hear the promise of the Ninety-first Psalm:

For he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways. They shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone. Thou shalt tread upon the lion and adder: the young lion and the dragon shalt thou trample under feet. (Ps. 91:11–13)

Here is a curious thing. In the wilderness, the devil quoted this very psalm to our Lord (Matt. 4:6). But he stopped after the twelfth verse. He dared not speak the thirteenth: the young lion and the dragon shalt thou trample under feet. The dragon will quote Scripture to you, beloved, but he will never finish the verse. So let us finish it for him. In Christ, the promise is ours.

For here is the heart of it: the angels guard us, but they do not save us. Michael’s sword did not win the war alone. Listen to what St. John heard when the dragon fell:

And I heard a loud voice saying in heaven, Now is come salvation, and strength, and the kingdom of our God, and the power of his Christ: for the accuser of our brethren is cast down, which accused them before our God day and night. (Rev. 12:10)

Notice whose victory is proclaimed: not Michael’s, but the power of his Christ. The war in heaven was the opening battle; the war itself was decided at Golgotha. On the eve of his Passion our Lord said, “Now is the judgment of this world: now shall the prince of this world be cast out. And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto me” (John 12:31–32).

And mark the name heaven gives the enemy: the accuser of our brethren. He has one sermon, and he preaches it day and night: You are guilty. You are unclean. God cannot love you. Some of you have heard that sermon this week, perhaps at three in the morning, perhaps after a sin you swore you would never commit again. And the terrible thing is that so much of it is true.

But the accuser does not lose because we are innocent. He loses because we are forgiven. At the right hand of the Father another Advocate pleads for us, and he pleads his own wounds. That is why St. John continues:

And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb, and by the word of their testimony; and they loved not their lives unto the death. (Rev. 12:11)

Here are the weapons of the saints: not our righteousness, but the blood of the Lamb; not our cleverness, but the word of our testimony; not our safety, for they loved not their lives unto the death. Yes, the battle rages; but these are the final, manic contortions of a dying and condemned enemy. “The prince of this world is judged” (John 16:11). And on that day when Christ returns to set right all that is wrong in this world, the serpent will be cast into the lake of fire, where he is destined to go (Rev. 20:10).

Until that day, we keep our place in what the Collect calls the “wonderful order” of angels and men. Every Lord’s Day at the altar we lift up our hearts and say: Therefore with Angels and Archangels, and with all the company of heaven, we laud and magnify thy glorious Name. In that moment we are not spectators of the heavenly worship; we join it. Michael and all the holy angels, and this little congregation, sing one song. The discord that entered heaven through pride is healed by the Lamb.

So, beloved, do not fear the dragon. Before Michael ever drew his sword, before the morning stars first sang, before the Light-bearer ever said I will, the Father loved the Son, and in the Sonhe loved you. He “hath chosen us in him before the foundation of the world” (Eph. 1:4). No accusation can reach behind that love.

And the question in Michael’s name becomes the song upon our lips: Who is like God? None. None but the Lamb who was slain, who loved us and washed us from our sins in his own blood.

Let us pray.

O EVERLASTING God, who hast ordained and constituted the services of Angels and men in a wonderful order: Mercifully grant that, as thy holy Angels alway do thee service in heaven, so by thy appointment they may succour and defend us on earth; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.