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I don't know if the below violates any copyright laws or forum rules but here is an account as given by Dr. S. Ralph Harlow as published in the Guidepost Christian Magazine some time ago:
It was not Christmas, it was not even wintertime, when the event occurred that for me threw sudden new light on the ancient angel tale. It was a glorious spring morning and we were walking, my wife and I, through the newly budded birches and maples near Ballardvale, Massachusetts.
Now I realize that this, like any account of personal experience, is only as valid as the good sense and honesty of the person relating it. What can I say about myself? That I am a scholar who shuns guesswork and admires scientific investigation? That I have an A.B. from Harvard, an M.A. from Columbia, a Ph.D. from Hartford Theological Seminary? That I have never been subject to hallucinations? That attorneys have solicited my testimony, and I have testified in the courts, regarded by judge and jury as a faithful, reliable witness?
All this is true and yet I doubt that any amount of such credentials can influence the belief or disbelief of another.
In the long run, each of us must sift what comes to us from others through his own life experience, his view of the universe, his understanding. And so I will simply tell my story.
The little path on which Marion and I walked that morning was spongy to our steps and we held hands with the sheer delight of life as we strolled near a lovely brook.
It was May, and because it was the examination reading period for students at Smith College where I was a professor, we were able to get away for a few days to visit Marion’s parents.
We frequently took walks in the country, and we especially loved the spring after a hard New England winter, for it is then that the fields and the woods are radiant and calm yet show new life bursting from the earth.
This day we were especially happy and peaceful; we chatted sporadically, with great gaps of satisfying silence between our sentences.
Then from behind us we heard the murmur of muted voices in the distance, and I said to Marion, “We have company in the woods this morning.”
Marion nodded and turned to look. We saw nothing, but the voices were coming nearer—at a faster pace than we were walking—and we knew that the strangers would soon overtake us. Then we perceived that the sounds were not only behind us but above us, and we looked up.
How can I describe what we felt? Is it possible to tell of the surge of exaltation that ran through us? Is it possible to record this phenomenon in objective accuracy and yet be credible?
For about 10 feet above us, and slightly to our left, was a floating group of glorious, beautiful creatures that glowed with spiritual beauty. We stopped and stared as they passed above us.
There were six of them, young beautiful women dressed in flowing white garments and engaged in earnest conversation If they were aware of our existence, they gave no indication of it. Their faces were perfectly clear to us, and one woman, slightly older than the rest, was especially beautiful.
Her dark hair was pulled back in what today we would call a ponytail, and although cannot say it was bound at the back of her head, it appeared to be. She was talking intently to a younger spirit whose back was toward us and who looked up into the face of the woman who was talking.
Neither Marion nor I could understand their words although their voices were clearly heard. The sound was somewhat like hearing but being unable to understand a group of people talking outside a house with all the windows and doors shut.
They seemed to float past us, and their graceful motion seemed natural—as gentle and peaceful as the morning itself. As they passed, their conversation grew fainter and fainter until it faded out entirely, and we stood transfixed on the spot, still holding hands and still with the vision before our eyes.
It would be an understatement to say that we were astounded. Then we looked at each other, each wondering if the other also had seen.
There was a fallen birch tree just there beside the path. We sat down on it and I said, “Marion, what did you see? Tell me exactly, in precise detail. And tell me what you heard.”
She knew my intent—to test my own eyes and ears to see if I had been the victim of hallucination or imagination. And her reply was identical in every respect to what my own senses had reported to me.
I have related this story with the same faithfulness and respect for truth and accuracy as I would tell it on the witness stand. But even as I record it, I know how incredible it sounds.
Perhaps I can claim no more for it than that it has had a deep effect on our own lives. For this experience of almost 30 years ago greatly altered our thinking. Once both Marion and I were somewhat skeptical about the absolute accuracy of the details at the birth of Christ.
This story always fascinated me and, if true, validates the world of the supernatural.
Perhaps I can claim no more for it than that it has had a deep effect on our own lives. For this experience of almost 30 years ago greatly altered our thinking. Once both Marion and I were somewhat skeptical about the absolute accuracy of the details at the birth of Christ.
Today, after the experience at Ballardvale, Marion and I are no longer skeptical. We believe that in back of that story recorded by St. Luke lies a genuine objective experience told in wonder by those who had the experience.
Well personal experiences are useless except to the experiencer. Such experiences seem quite rare. I certainly have never had anything remotely like that happen to me. The most compelling part of the account is the shared intersubjective experience and I appreciate the way the guy verified they had both seen and heard the same thing. That is rare, even among the accounts of such rare experiences. But alas, I cannot form any sort of belief based on it, because it's still someone else's personal anecdote.
This story is typical in that it serves as a sort of vague template that one can project upon whatever comes to mind. If some supernatural realm were revealing itself to this couple on purpose, then this provides precious little information to the experiencer other than that one explanation is that there is some numinous unseen realm that seems positive. It makes more sense as an accidental "leakage" between two realms than as some sort of message or revelation. Regardless, I suppose that if this sort of thing was common enough that it happened to most everyone once or twice in life, it would go a long way to reinforcing and amplifying whatever religious tradition the person was familiar with.
And maybe that is the point. We are prone to want to believe in "something more" and we have many flavors of belief. Some of us are more prone to experience of this kind, some less. Regardless, most of us hang on the breathless accounts of others, because this just isn't very common.
The old Bette Midler song says, "some say love is for the lucky and the strong" and I think transcendent experiences of the Divine are not very democratic, either.
I don't know if the below violates any copyright laws or forum rules but here is an account as given by Dr. S. Ralph Harlow as published in the Guidepost Christian Magazine some time ago:
It was not Christmas, it was not even wintertime, when the event occurred that for me threw sudden new light on the ancient angel tale. It was a glorious spring morning and we were walking, my wife and I, through the newly budded birches and maples near Ballardvale, Massachusetts.
Now I realize that this, like any account of personal experience, is only as valid as the good sense and honesty of the person relating it. What can I say about myself? That I am a scholar who shuns guesswork and admires scientific investigation? That I have an A.B. from Harvard, an M.A. from Columbia, a Ph.D. from Hartford Theological Seminary? That I have never been subject to hallucinations? That attorneys have solicited my testimony, and I have testified in the courts, regarded by judge and jury as a faithful, reliable witness?
All this is true and yet I doubt that any amount of such credentials can influence the belief or disbelief of another.
In the long run, each of us must sift what comes to us from others through his own life experience, his view of the universe, his understanding. And so I will simply tell my story.
The little path on which Marion and I walked that morning was spongy to our steps and we held hands with the sheer delight of life as we strolled near a lovely brook.
It was May, and because it was the examination reading period for students at Smith College where I was a professor, we were able to get away for a few days to visit Marion’s parents.
We frequently took walks in the country, and we especially loved the spring after a hard New England winter, for it is then that the fields and the woods are radiant and calm yet show new life bursting from the earth.
This day we were especially happy and peaceful; we chatted sporadically, with great gaps of satisfying silence between our sentences.
Then from behind us we heard the murmur of muted voices in the distance, and I said to Marion, “We have company in the woods this morning.”
Marion nodded and turned to look. We saw nothing, but the voices were coming nearer—at a faster pace than we were walking—and we knew that the strangers would soon overtake us. Then we perceived that the sounds were not only behind us but above us, and we looked up.
How can I describe what we felt? Is it possible to tell of the surge of exaltation that ran through us? Is it possible to record this phenomenon in objective accuracy and yet be credible?
For about 10 feet above us, and slightly to our left, was a floating group of glorious, beautiful creatures that glowed with spiritual beauty. We stopped and stared as they passed above us.
There were six of them, young beautiful women dressed in flowing white garments and engaged in earnest conversation If they were aware of our existence, they gave no indication of it. Their faces were perfectly clear to us, and one woman, slightly older than the rest, was especially beautiful.
Her dark hair was pulled back in what today we would call a ponytail, and although cannot say it was bound at the back of her head, it appeared to be. She was talking intently to a younger spirit whose back was toward us and who looked up into the face of the woman who was talking.
Neither Marion nor I could understand their words although their voices were clearly heard. The sound was somewhat like hearing but being unable to understand a group of people talking outside a house with all the windows and doors shut.
They seemed to float past us, and their graceful motion seemed natural—as gentle and peaceful as the morning itself. As they passed, their conversation grew fainter and fainter until it faded out entirely, and we stood transfixed on the spot, still holding hands and still with the vision before our eyes.
It would be an understatement to say that we were astounded. Then we looked at each other, each wondering if the other also had seen.
There was a fallen birch tree just there beside the path. We sat down on it and I said, “Marion, what did you see? Tell me exactly, in precise detail. And tell me what you heard.”
She knew my intent—to test my own eyes and ears to see if I had been the victim of hallucination or imagination. And her reply was identical in every respect to what my own senses had reported to me.
I have related this story with the same faithfulness and respect for truth and accuracy as I would tell it on the witness stand. But even as I record it, I know how incredible it sounds.
Perhaps I can claim no more for it than that it has had a deep effect on our own lives. For this experience of almost 30 years ago greatly altered our thinking. Once both Marion and I were somewhat skeptical about the absolute accuracy of the details at the birth of Christ.
This story always fascinated me and, if true, validates the world of the supernatural.
Your thoughts?
thoughts?
To be honest with you, may be there is a 0.0000000001% chance that they have seen angels - which doesn’t a whole lot to me - but in all honesty …most likely such people need to see a good psychiatrist.
This is not how faith in God is formed. And this is NOT how you become a better Christian with a better and stronger faith.
IMO, people who write such stories seems to have some sorta inferiority complex of having a shallow faith - so they make up such fake stuff that may give them some sorta false sense of self assurance to prove to others that their “personal connection and experiences” are on a whole new level and above the rest.
There are 8 billion people - and not everyone is going to see angels to receive faith assurance.
I have seen very, very nice caring and genuinely good Christians. They didn’t need to see any angels to form a stronger or a better faith than others.
I did some 'googling' and found this article from the August 23, 1972, edition of the New York Times concerning the death of Dr. S. Ralph Harlow:
OAK BLUFFS, Mass., Aug. 22 —Dr. S. Ralph Harlow, professor emeritus of religion at Smith College, where he was noted for his courses on the application of Judaic and Christian principles to social problems, died yesterday at his home here. He was 87 years old and lived also at 72 Barrow Street in New York City.
Professor Harlow was born in Boston, graduated in 1908 from Harvard and in 1912 from Union Theological Seminary. Later he received an M.A. from Columbia University, a Ph.D.. from Hartford Theological Seminary, and an honorary L.H.D. from Hebrew Union College.
Ordained a Congregational minister in 1912, he went to Turkey as chaplain and head of the sociology department at International College, then in Smyrna but now in Beirut, Lebanon.
His service as an American Board missionary was interrupted by World War I, in which he worked for the Young Men's Christian Association with the American Expeditionary Force in France, and ended in 1922 with the expulsion of the Greek forces from Turkey.
After a year in African and Asian countries as delegate of the World Student Christian Federation, he joined the Smith College faculty and became active in the “social gospel” movement. He was a Socialist candidate for the House of Representatives from Northampton, Mass., in 1932 on the Presidential slate headed by Norman Thomas, an old friend, with whom he shared a pacifist philosophy modified by support of World War II against Hitler's Germany.
He was a former director of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People and was active in the American Christian Palestine Committee supporting the establishment of Israel.
Among his special interests was psychic phenomena, about which he wrote in “A Life After Death.” Other books included “Honest Answers to Honest Questions.” He had lectured abroad for the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace and served as visiting professor at Pierce College in Athens. After his retirement from Smith he taught at Springfield College in Massachusetts.
Surviving are his widow, who was Mrs. Elizabeth Kaufmann Grigorakis; three children of his first marriage, to the former Marion Stafford, who died in 1961; Prof. John S. Harlow of Iowa City, Ruth C., wife of Prof. Harold J. Berman of Cambridge, Mass., and Elizabeth, wife of Prof. Harold C. Harlow Jr. of Springfield; seven grandchildren and one great‐grandchild.
There was a graveside service here today. A memorial service will be announced later.
The 'angel experience' must have occurred back in the 1930's. For some reason I had thought it to have occurred in the 1960s. Not that this necessarily affects the veracity of the story. Anyway, does anything about the man's credentials, i.e., his interest in psychic phenomena, offer any insight as to why he (and his then wife Marion) would have concocted such a story? I realize that is a 'who knows'? question but it might be interesting to get your feedback.
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