The Archangel Michael is the chief commander of all the angels, the defender of God’s people, and the leader of the heavenly hosts who cast Satan out of heaven. His name means “Who is like God?”
You’ll find his name in Scripture, but you’ll find his presence throughout the whole story of salvation. In the book of Daniel, he’s called “the great prince” who protects God’s people. In Jude, he contends with the devil over the body of Moses. In Revelation, he leads the angelic armies against the dragon and his angels. That’s Michael: warrior, protector, guardian.
But he’s not just a figure from ancient texts. The Church has known him as a living presence for two thousand years.
More Than a Biblical Character
Orthodox tradition sees Michael’s hand in events throughout salvation history. The Church Fathers believed he was the pillar of cloud by day and fire by night that led Israel out of Egypt. When 185,000 Assyrian soldiers threatened Jerusalem, it was Michael who destroyed them in a single night. When plague ravaged Rome in the sixth century, Pope Gregory the Great saw Michael sheathing his sword over Hadrian’s mausoleum, and the plague stopped.
He appeared to the Emperor Constantine. He worked miracles at Colossae in Phrygia, where pagans tried to destroy a church by diverting rivers to flood it. Michael struck the rock and the waters disappeared into the earth instead. We celebrate that miracle on September 6.
These aren’t fairy tales to us. They’re part of how we understand God’s care for His Church through the ministry of angels. Michael isn’t a symbol or a metaphor. He’s a person, a bodiless intelligence created by God, who serves God’s purposes and intercedes for us.
The Eighth Day
The Orthodox Church celebrates the Synaxis of the Archangel Michael and all the Bodiless Powers on November 8. The date isn’t random. The eighth day points to the Eighth Day, the day beyond time, the day of Christ’s resurrection and the final judgment. Michael will be there when Christ comes again. He’s associated with that day of reckoning, that moment when everything hidden becomes visible.
That’s why icons often show him holding scales, weighing souls. Or holding a sword, ready to defend. Or trampling a dragon underfoot. Russian iconographers paint him in red. He’s a warrior, but he fights for God’s justice and mercy, not for conquest.
If you visit an Orthodox church, you’ll probably see his icon. At St. Michael’s here in Beaumont, he’s our patron. Lots of Orthodox parishes bear his name. There’s something fitting about it, especially in Southeast Texas where people understand what it means to stand guard, to work a hard shift, to protect what matters.
What We Ask of Him
We don’t worship Michael. Worship belongs to God alone. But we do venerate him, and we ask his prayers just as we’d ask the prayers of any faithful Christian. The difference is that Michael isn’t hindered by death or distance or the limitations we face. He stands before God constantly.
In Orthodox services, we invoke the bodiless powers. We acknowledge that heaven and earth aren’t separate realms but one creation, and that the angels are our fellow servants of God. When we celebrate the Divine Liturgy, we’re joining our voices with theirs. “Let us who mystically represent the Cherubim,” we sing. Michael and his angels are already offering that worship. We’re stepping into it.
The Church calls him Archistrategos, the chief commander. He leads the angelic armies, but he also leads us, the Church Militant, as we struggle against sin and death and the powers of darkness. That’s not poetic language. It’s how we understand the Christian life: as a battle, with Michael on our side.
Why His Name Matters
“Who is like God?” That’s what Michael’s name means in Hebrew. It’s a question and an answer at once. When Satan fell, when he grasped at equality with God, Michael’s response was his very name. Who is like God? No one. Not the highest angel, not the most powerful demon, not any human being. God alone is God.
That’s the faith Michael defends. That’s what he fought for in heaven and what he fights for now. Every heresy, every attempt to diminish Christ’s divinity or explain away the Trinity or reduce the faith to something manageable, Michael opposes. Not because he’s rigid, but because he knows the truth and he loves it.
We need that reminder. In a culture that wants to make us all into little gods, that tells us we can create our own truth and define our own reality, Michael’s question cuts through the noise. Who is like God? The answer is still no one.
If you’re exploring Orthodoxy, you’ll find that we take angels seriously. Not as decorative figures or greeting card sentiments, but as real beings with real roles in God’s plan. Michael stands first among them, not because he’s the oldest or the strongest, but because God appointed him to that place. And he’s been faithful to it from the beginning.
