I’ve seen it all, brother. The heavens aren’t what they were, the golden gates tarnished, scrolls of fate torn and rewritten more times than I care to remember.

Do you think I wanted this? They called me—names don’t hold weight in a world where truth shifts like dust in the wind.

They said, “You’re the messenger. You bring the divine word.” I thought that meant something once, Back when the words were clear, back when the lines were sharp—Before they blurred into the noise of cities, of static, people screaming their truths, fighting over fragments of light.

My trumpet’s cracked, you see, doesn’t blow the same anymore. Not since the fall, not since the wars of men. We fought for justice, but what is that now? The mortals below—gods wear suits and their saints write algorithms, seen them chase their own shadows. Hearts heavier than any feather Ma’at could ever weigh.

And me? I’m the one who told them to fight. But how do you speak to a world that’s lost its language? What do you say when they can’t hear you anymore?

I don’t protect them now, not in the way you think, walk among them—eyes like fire, inside? Inside, I’m as broken as they are. I watch them build their empires, crumble them down, wonder if the silence is better. Do I still believe? I don’t know. But I do my job. Because that’s what’s left of faith when the universe forgets its own name.

Archangel Michael, often depicted as a warrior wielding a sword, is central to many religious traditions. His battle with Satan is one of the most well-known angelic stories, rooted in the Book of Revelation (12:7-9), where Michael leads heavenly forces against the rebellious angels.

Michael’s role as a protector and military leader transcends the spiritual realm. During the Byzantine Empire, he was invoked as a patron saint of warriors and was believed to have protected the city of Constantinople during sieges, particularly the Siege of Constantinople in 626 AD. Michael’s influence spread through the creation of shrines and churches dedicated to him, such as Monte Gargano in Italy, which dates back to the 5th century and is one of the oldest known sites linked to his worship. Legends claim Michael appeared here in a cave, strengthening his historical and spiritual ties to both Eastern and Western Christianity.

Michael is often depicted in medieval Christian art, found on ancient relics, including coins and shields. The Sword of Michael is a term used to describe a line of sacred sites stretching from Ireland to Israel, which were all dedicated to him and aligned in an almost perfect straight line.

Archangel Gabriel is celebrated for delivering messages from God to humans. His most famous role is in announcing the birth of Jesus to the Virgin Mary (Luke 1:26-38). Gabriel also plays a crucial role in Islam, as he is the angel who revealed the Qur’an to the Prophet Muhammad.

Gabriel’s presence is felt deeply in both Christian and Islamic history. The Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem, one of Islam’s holiest sites, is associated with Gabriel’s guidance during Muhammad’s Night Journey (Isra and Mi’raj). Gabriel is said to have led Muhammad through the heavens, providing historical links between the archangel and this significant religious moment.

In Islamic tradition, Gabriel is honored in various Islamic art and architecture, particularly in manuscripts where he is depicted leading Muhammad or delivering divine messages. His role as the herald of divine truth extends into Western art, especially in depictions of the Annunciation in Renaissance paintings, most notably in the works of Leonardo da Vinci and Fra Angelico.

Raphael, whose name means “God heals,” is an archangel associated with healing and protection in times of distress. His story is most prominent in the Book of Tobit in the Apocrypha, where he heals Tobit’s blindness and helps guide Tobias.

Historical Evidence and Influence: While Raphael’s presence in canonical texts is limited compared to Michael or Gabriel, his association with healing and medicine has made him a patron for healers and travelers. Throughout the Middle Ages, hospitals were dedicated to him, such as San Raffaele Hospital in Milan, which still stands as one of Europe’s major medical institutions.

Raphael often appears in Christian iconography, especially in healing or protective contexts. In art, such as Raffaello Sanzio’s frescoes, Raphael is depicted as a guardian angel, subtly reminding viewers of his role as a healer.

Though not archangels in the Abrahamic sense, Zoroastrianism features divine beings that share some characteristics with archangels. Ahura Mazda, the supreme god, is assisted by Amesha Spentas, divine entities who help maintain order and fight against the forces of chaos (often associated with Angra Mainyu or Ahriman).

Historical Evidence and Influence: The Achaemenid Empire (550–330 BCE), which followed Zoroastrian principles, portrayed these divine beings in their art and architecture, particularly in Persepolis. These divine entities played a protective role similar to that of archangels, influencing the empire’s leaders and warriors.

The Amesha Spentas (“Holy Immortals”) in Zoroastrianism are seven divine beings who assist Ahura Mazda in maintaining order and fighting evil forces. Though not directly analogous to angels, these figures function similarly as intermediaries between the divine and human worlds, promoting good and protecting against chaos.

Amesha Spentas each represent aspects of creation and virtues, such as truth, righteousness, and divine order. Like archangels, they serve to guide and protect humanity, especially in the battle against Angra Mainyu, the destructive force in Zoroastrian cosmology.

Zoroastrianism had a profound influence on later Abrahamic religions. The concepts of dualism, angels, and cosmic battles between good and evil in Zoroastrianism resonate in both Judaism and Christianity.

Inscribed monuments and bas-reliefs from the Achaemenid period display symbolic representations of these divine entities. Their winged forms and divine authority bear a strong resemblance to the later representations of archangels in Christian and Islamic art.

After the Muslim conquest of Persia, Zoroastrianism declined sharply, though small communities of Zoroastrians still exist today, particularly in India (the Parsis)

Ishtar (also known as Inanna) was a major goddess in Mesopotamian religion, worshipped primarily in Sumer and Akkad.

Ishtar was the goddess of love, beauty, fertility, and war—representing both creation and destruction, much like the Morrigan in Celtic mythology. Her descent into the underworld is one of the most famous myths, where she journeys to challenge the powers of death, only to return and bring life again.

As one of the most powerful goddesses, Ishtar’s influence extended through centuries of Mesopotamian culture, with her temples being central to the urban centers of the time. She was revered as both a nurturer and a destroyer, illustrating the complex duality of divinity that mirrored human experience.

The fall of the Babylonian and Assyrian empires, combined with the spread of Greek, Persian, and eventually Islamic influences, led to the decline of Ishtar’s worship. Her myths, however, have continued to influence later religious and cultural ideas of femininity and power.

Quetzalcoatl, the feathered serpent god, was one of the principal deities of the Aztecs, though his worship predates them in earlier Mesoamerican cultures such as the Toltecs.

Quetzalcoatl represented the boundary between earth and sky, embodying the dual aspects of human and divine. He was the god of wind, wisdom, and life, as well as the creator of humanity. His stories often portray him as a protector and bringer of knowledge, much like the role of Gabriel as a messenger and teacher in Islamic and Christian traditions.

Quetzalcoatl’s worship extended across Mesoamerica, with temples dedicated to him, such as the famous Pyramid of the Feathered Serpent at Teotihuacan. He was viewed as a benevolent god, opposed to more violent deities like Huitzilopochtli, which adds layers to his moral and divine significance.

The arrival of the Spanish and the fall of the Aztec Empire led to the rapid decline of Quetzalcoatl’s worship, though he remains a key figure in Mesoamerican history and continues to be a symbol of wisdom and creativity.

Taranis was a thunder god worshipped by the Celts, particularly the Gauls and other tribes in ancient Europe. He was often equated with Jupiter or Thor by Roman and Norse contemporaries.

Taranis was a sky god, associated with storms, thunder, and lightning. His hammer or wheel symbolized his power to both create and destroy, akin to the role of Michael as a divine warrior, protector of the righteous.

Taranis was a vital part of the Celtic religious framework, where he commanded respect as the deity who could punish with storms or bless with rain. His worship often involved sacrificial rites and ceremonial offerings.

The Roman conquest of Celtic lands and the spread of Christianity led to the erasure of Taranis’s worship, though his imagery persisted in European folklore, and many of his attributes were absorbed into Christian symbolism of divine wrath and justice.

In Jewish mysticism, particularly in Kabbalistic texts, Metatron is a unique figure who bridges humanity and the divine. He is often referred to as the “scribe of heaven” and is considered one of the most powerful angels, though his origins are debated. Some traditions hold that Metatron was once the human Enoch, who was transformed into an angel after ascending to heaven.

Historical Evidence and Influence: While the figure of Metatron is not directly tied to historical events, his role in Jewish mysticism has been influential in shaping Kabbalistic thought, which in turn impacted Jewish intellectual history. The idea of a human becoming an angel mirrors other ancient traditions of divine-human interaction, such as the apotheosis of heroes in Greek mythology.

Metatrons name and imagery appear in mystical texts like the Sefer HaRazim (Book of Mysteries) and Merkabah literature, which delve into heavenly visions and the role of angelic beings in divine realms.

Metatron as an idea and a name has been redefined across centuries, mirroring Wittgenstein’s concept that words are tools used within particular language games, whose meaning shifts based on how they are deployed within different communities of discourse. In the Sefer HaRazim (Book of Mysteries) and Merkabah literature, Metatron is not static but malleable—a conduit for mystical experiences, heavenly visions, and divine messages.

In this framework, Metatron’s identity reflects the evolution of Jewish mysticism itself. His story—moving from Enoch to angelic scribe—follows the historical transformations of Jewish thought, impacted by exile, diaspora, and intellectual synthesis with Greek, Persian, and other ancient traditions. In this way, Metatron’s narrative is a linguistic and philosophical game that reflects how Jewish mystics engaged with ideas of divine mediation and transcendence in the context of their times.

In this post-truth context, Metatron’s transformation from Enoch symbolizes a human desire to transcend limitations, both physical and intellectual. Yet, the lack of direct historical evidence for Metatron as a historical figure mirrors the epistemological crisis of the present: we construct narratives to fill gaps in knowledge, sometimes leaning on mysticism and belief over material truth. Metatron, in this view, becomes less a figure of concrete historical significance and more an idea, a linguistic tool that allows mystics and scholars to access the ineffable.

This human-angelic transformation is not unique to Jewish mysticism. The apotheosis of figures in Greek mythology, such as Hercules ascending to Olympus after his mortal life, mirrors the metaphysical transcendence in Metatron’s narrative. Both traditions play a similar language game of divine interaction, where humanity seeks to bridge the gap with the divine, challenging the boundaries between mortal and immortal.

In both cases, these stories serve as narrative frameworks that help cultures grapple with their existential questions. They become symbols of mediation between worlds—whether mortal and immortal, or known and unknowable. Thus, Metatron’s apotheosis becomes an important cultural metaphor, even if not grounded in concrete historical events

Metatron embodies the blurring of myth and history, where facts are often secondary to the narrative and the meaning is shaped by the interpretative communities that wield it. Metatron exists as a symbol of transcendence, adaptable to whatever cosmic or intellectual framework we project upon him.

Both Metatron in Jewish mysticism and Anubis in Ancient Egyptian religion play critical roles in facilitating the passage of souls from the mortal realm to the divine. While their cultural contexts are vastly different, their functions as guides in the transition between life and death provide a striking parallel.

Metatron, especially in his identification as the transformed Enoch, represents a human-angel hybrid who has access to the celestial spheres. He is a scribe of divine deeds, much like the keeper of heavenly records, tracking souls and maintaining order in the divine realms.

The metaphor of judgment is central to both figures. Anubis physically weighs the heart against the feather of Ma’at, the principle of cosmic order and truth, ensuring the soul’s purity. Similarly, Metatron, with his role as the scribe of heaven, also stands as a figure who records the righteousness of souls, ensuring divine balance is maintained.

In Islamic and Jewish mysticism, the angel Azrael, often associated with death, shares a function similar to Anubis and Metatron. Azrael, like Anubis, is tasked with overseeing the transition from life to death, guiding souls to the afterlife, much like Anubis guides souls through the duat (the Egyptian underworld).

Both Anubis and Metatron act as protectors. Anubis guards the tombs of the deceased, ensuring that the body and spirit are safe from desecration, while Metatron, as the angelic scribe, protects the heavenly order, ensuring that the spiritual records of the cosmos are intact. Their roles in the divine order extend beyond mere judgment, as they safeguard the passage of the soul, marking them both as guardians of transition.

Anubis, the jackal-headed god of the dead, was one of the most significant deities in Ancient Egyptian religion. He was the guardian of the dead, responsible for the protection of graves and the guiding of souls to the afterlife.

Anubis played a role akin to that of Raphael or Metatron, overseeing the passage of souls from the earthly realm to the divine. He was also a protector, ensuring the deceased were safe on their journey to the afterlife.

As a guide of souls to the afterlife, Anubis’ role is reminiscent of the angel Azrael, the angel of death in Islamic and Jewish traditions. Anubis oversaw the weighing of the heart, determining whether a soul was worthy of the afterlife—a function very much tied to divine judgment and protection from chaos.

Anubis, as the jackal-headed god, oversaw the critical moment of weighing the heart in the Egyptian underworld, determining if a soul was worthy of entering the afterlife. His role as psychopomp, a guide of souls, parallels Metatron’s function as a divine intermediary between humanity and the cosmos. Anubis, in Egyptian mythology, ensured that the scales of justice were balanced, just as Metatron records the deeds of humankind and protects the order of the heavens.

Anubis is prominently featured in ancient Egyptian tombs, funerary texts, and statues. The Book of the Dead, an important Egyptian text, includes numerous references to Anubis performing rites over the dead. His role as the weigher of hearts at the judgment of the dead underscores his position as both a protector and judge, similar to the roles of various archangels.

The stories of archangels transcend religious boundaries and become archetypes of divine intervention, protection, and guidance. Their influence can be seen not only in ancient religious texts but also in the physical remains of civilizations that honored them. Through churches, art, relics, and even architecture, the presence of these celestial beings in human history is undeniable, offering us a fascinating glimpse into how the divine has always been intertwined with human experience.

These figures remain significant in our collective consciousness, not only as symbols of divine justice or mercy but also as messengers between worlds—serving as reminders that, whether through faith or history, the quest for meaning and guidance continues.