In today's increasingly secular society angels are often seen as anachronisms, outmoded harbingers of a dying religious orthodoxy. Reduced to glittery appearances on Christmas cards, angels share a similar status to Santa Claus in our imaginations. But to a small but growing community of believers angels are a life-transforming reality, reports Fionola Meredith
There's even a shop devoted to them. Anne O'Connor, manager of the Angel Shop, which opened in Dún Laoghaire Shopping Centre, in Co Dublin, three years ago, says that "in these days of war and violence, more and more people are turning to the nice, gentle presence that angels provide". These "special beings" provide limitless and unconditional love, guidance, comfort and support, according to people who believe in them. Angels are all around us, they say, and each of us has a special one, to ensure our personal well-being. All we have to do is ask.
Contacting your angels is a bit like telephoning Papua New Guinea. You might need help from the international operator or from someone who speaks the native language. That's where angel workshops come in. Run by facilitators who routinely "work and play with angels", the sessions aim to put the novice in touch with his or - most often, it must be said - her spiritual guides. The town of Holywood, in Co Down, a chintzy suburb of Belfast often described as the New Age capital of Northern Ireland, hosts a popular introductory series called Meet Your Angels.
According to Lorna Scott, one of the workshops' three founders, the content and structure of the course are channelled to them by the angels. Her colleague Marianne Underwood says: "Using meditation, sound healing, colour, laughter and fun, this joyous process opens up many pathways of possibility for all participants as they become more and more attuned to the angelic energies."
Wrapped in bright shawls and breathing heady aromatherapy oils, participants sit in a circle around a small shrine adorned with artificial flowers and four candles, to represent the archangels Gabriel, Michael, Raphael and Uriel. There is a sense of heightened expectation, perhaps sustained by the sugar rush from the workshops' plentiful supply of sweets. ("The angels love them.")
Having paid €30 each, we have been assured that we shall meet and communicate with our angels this evening. But first we're led brightly but firmly - "smiling is compulsory" - through a chorus of a song that's a favourite with the angels: I'm Special, You Know.
After a kind of ritualised rub-down and polish to get our auras shining brightly, as if we were preparing for a first date, we're ready to be introduced. We ask the angels for a physical sign that means yes and one that means no. For most participants the signs manifest themselves as a slight rocking forwards or backwards.
Now we can consult the angels about anything we want, from deeply personal quandaries to what groceries to pick up at the supermarket. "Remember, there are angel experts for every situation, from the parking and housework angels to the colour consultants. Don't forget to call upon them." And you can talk to them any time or place. The loo might be a good spot for a consultation: it's private and, according to co-facilitator Joy Kitson, "angels seem to like bathrooms".
Everything unexpected that occurs is explained as the work of angels and, therefore, significant. So if the wrong song comes out of the CD player it's not a mistake but the result of the angels deciding that "someone in the room needed to hear that song". And if you drove into a gatepost on your way to the workshop it was not because you were fiddling with the radio or putting on lipstick but because someone was denting your energy. Watch out especially if events happen in threes. That's when your angels are really trying to tell you something.
The evening concludes with a group meditation. Afterwards we are asked if anybody felt any tingling or pain along their shoulders or down their backs. Many did, and they seem delighted to discover it was a sign that their wings were sprouting.
Angel therapy is a colourful mishmash of often contradictory religious and secular ideas. It borrows freely from Christianity, Buddhism, the Japanese reiki tradition and self-empowerment ("I am a valued and special person"). And angel therapy adroitly repackages the bells and smells of Catholicism in its heavy use of scented oils, incense and chimes. It is also determinist, interpreting every event, however apparently random or trivial, as angelically directed. Believers testify to the healing, cleansing power it brings to their lives, the way it makes them feel loved and cherished.
Hold on, though: isn't that what mainstream religion offers too? Instead of talking to angels, why not go straight to God?
Joe Mullally, an angel therapist and chairman of the Irish Society of Diviners, says: "There is a new reliance on personal spirituality rather than on institutionalised religion. Traditionally, in the culture we live in, divinity has been all about judgment - Moses being turned away from the Promised Land and so on. But angels don't judge. It's not about giving and getting, either. There is no contract necessary with angels. They are always on our side."
But can we trust angels to offer the right guidance? "It's important to remember that, while angels may advise us, it's always our choice to act or not act in the end. In most cases people already inwardly know what they need to do. The difficulty is in having the courage to make the change."
But many are suspicious of angel therapy's ambitious claims. Paul O'Donoghue, a psychologist and founder of the Irish Skeptics Society, says: "I would have two concerns with this kind of thing. One, there is no concrete evidence for the existence of angels. And, two, practitioners may be exploiting people's religious beliefs for financial gain. All kinds of junk are being sold on this basis, and while some deluded practitioners genuinely believe in what they're doing, regrettably others are outright charlatans."
Angel practitioners' cherry-picking approach to faith can also be a matter of concern. Malachi O'Doherty, who writes about religious affairs, says: "It seems that these angels can be slotted into any religious belief. But this is religion without any of the bad bits, any of the worrying bits. And it's operating at the level of emotion and imagination.
"Many people are so illiterate in terms of emotion that when they do feel something they're totally vulnerable to being told by others what it is, what it means. We cling to the myth that we live in a rational society, that reason will always prevail. But so often it doesn't."
Taking part in an angel workshop is like floating on a cloud of candyfloss: insubstantial, logically woolly and mind-numbingly sweet. Angel therapy's apparent lack of theological and intellectual rigour has prompted some critics to call it religion lite.
As one sceptical former participant remarks: "At least mainstream religion is about the big stuff: mortality, eternity, heaven and hell. Angel therapy tells you what to buy in Tesco and where to park your car."
But for its growing band of devotees, many of whom are struggling with intense personal challenges and difficulties, there's nothing more comforting than a big pair of protective wings shielding them from the bewilderment, pain and confusion in their lives.
The word angel comes from the ancient Greek angelos, meaning messenger. Angels appear in one form or another in most world religions.
The belief that God assigns an angel to every person was common in the pagan and Jewish worlds, but the Western understanding of these winged intermediaries between God and humanity is largely informed by the Christian tradition.
Although there are many biblical references to the presence, roles and duties of angels, theologians have never agreed about the number and nature of the heavenly host.
The fifth-century work De Hierarchia Celesti, ascribed to St Paul's disciple Dionysius the Areopagite, remains the primary classification system, grouping angels into choirs and hierarchies.
In the Middle Ages there was much speculation about the nature and substantiality of angels, including the well-known scholarly question of how many of them would fit on the head of a pin.
Although in the Bible angels may be mistaken for ordinary people, in art they are traditionally represented with a full complement of wings and haloes and are often richly decorated with intricately embroidered costumes.
Although theologians have argued that, being pure spirit, angels are genderless, Renaissance painters depicted them as androgynous. By the 20th century many angels were represented as female.
Their continued presence in Western imagery seems to be largely a result of their decorative appeal.
