Michael

Dedicated to the memory of Standish Crews,

a beautiful soul and a wonderful father-in-law.

“You did what, Mike? Please, slow down. Start at the beginning.”

“Well, Stan, about an hour ago, I was walking across the quad and saw three Neo-Nazi types accosting a Jewish student. He’s in your class I, think. Bright kid. Skinny, with glasses. Wears a yarmulke.”

“Yeah, that’s Jacob. He’s a fine student. But, go on, Mike, what happened next?”

“I was in earshot of the confrontation. Let’s just say those three were giving Jacob a pretty hard time.”

“So…”

“So, I walked over and put myself between the hateful triumvirate and Jacob. Told them to knock it off.”

“And then…”

“Then one of them started to open his mouth to say something to me, but apparently decided not to. And all three took off, like they’d seen a ghost. Just like that. Jacob said something about how he had to go see his Rabbi, immediately, ran off and shouted ‘thank you’ over his shoulder. It was the strangest thing.”

“Why do you think those kids did that? They usually mouth off to anyone. They may be white supremacists, but they’re all about equal opportunity when it comes to spouting their opinions.”

“That’s the thing. You know, Stan, it’s not like I look like the Incredible Hulk, not even Smart Hulk. I’m just a regular guy.” Then Mike did his impression of Bones, from Star Trek, “I’m a Professor of History, Jim, not a professional fighter…” and returned to being Mike “… but those kids were clearly scared of me.”

“Well, sometimes you are pretty scary, especially during finals week.”

“You too Stan. I’ve heard about your religion finals. Beliefs in a bluebook, the kids call them. But it wasn’t like that. Those kids acted like I was about to kill them where they stood.”

“Oh. Really? Are you sure? Maybe you’re over-reacting…”

“Stan, I’m not making this up. The fear in their eyes was palpable.”

“What were you feeling at that moment, Mike?”

“Do you promise not to laugh?”

“I promise.”

“Righteousness.”

2.

Dr. Michael Christopher James was about as far from religion as a man could get. His study of history had taught him that when religion was involved things usually went very badly for someone. There’s no war like a holy war was one of his catch phrases. Although he identified himself as an atheist, Mike told his best friend, Stan, he was open to evidence that God existed. Of course, he would require further convincing if he was expected to believe God was benevolent, let alone the God of the Judeo-Christian tradition. He had seen too much oppression in the name of this or that religion, or religious sect, both locally and on an international scale, to believe God was benevolent. “Don’t confuse God with what some do in his name,” Stan would say. “The reason every religion has so many black marks is the actions of people, not God. People make mistakes. People act in their own interest and claim God told them to do so. People can be narrow-minded, petty, and vindictive, even though Christ, and the prophets of many religions, tried to teach us to love one another.”

Dr. Standish Crews was a Christian. An old-school Presbyterian, he was convinced the sovereignty of God would always prevail. He prayed daily for his friend, asking God to help Mike “find his way.” Stan was certain God had a plan for Mike and often told him, “God never gives up. I’m sure He’s not finished with you yet. Someday, you’ll see his plan clearly, so clearly even an atheist wouldn’t be able to miss it.” Stan would always say this with a wink and a smile, followed with, “You know I’m praying for you, brother.”

As full of doubt and negativity towards religion as he was, Mike appreciated Stan’s prayers. “I would be a happy man if your prayers worked,” he told Stan. “But it seems I’m living my life under a dark cloud, or in a dense fog, unable to see what my larger purpose might be. Somehow, I don’t believe it’s teaching at this university, or even teaching at all. Yet, if I was born to do something else, I have no idea what it could be.” Mike felt as though a lot of his past was somehow missing. He remembered his parents, John and Mary James. They were kind and wise and did all they could to raise him to be an ethical, principled young man. His school days were dappled with memories of hard work, lots of hours in the library, and a few teachers who tried to guide him. He had one or two mentors, who, it seemed to him, made him feel like he was standing on the shoulders of giants. A belief in God might be elusive to him, but the understanding that there are good people and evil people was not. Stan was right. It’s unfair to blame God for what people have done in his name. It’s also unfair to blame all Christians for the actions of a few. John and Mary were good people and did their best. Too bad others were not more like them.

Stan reminded Mike of one of his old professors. Dr. Parker was one of those people who looked for the good in others, not in a simple-minded, Pollyanna-on-Prozac way, but in a practical, realistic way. “You can trust some people with some of your stuff, others with a secret or two, and a few with your house or your car. But you’ll be lucky if you can find one you can trust with your life, one you can trust no matter what.” Dr. P understood that trust was hard to come by and some people would try to abuse your trust to get what they want. He hated lying as much as anyone could. Mike told Stan that Dr. P preferred the truth straight up to a well-crafted lie intended to spare his feelings. One time he saw Dr. P forgive a student who admitted he hadn’t read an assignment. “At least you didn’t try to put one over on me.” He went on to say, “The reason we know the Devil as the father of lies is that lies are so common and so easy, especially the lies we tell ourselves, or the lies we teach others to tell, or the lies we rationalize as necessary to protect ourselves or others. Telling a lie is the first step on the road to evil. Then comes believing it. Then comes living it. If one lives the lie long enough, malice creeps in and before you know it the liar becomes pure evil.” Mike thought about all the white supremacists who were taught so many lies about Jewish people and any others who were not like them. They might be on the road to evil without knowing it. But Dr. P also believed there was no one who was beyond redemption. If the lie could be exposed and mended, the damage could be undone, and the good could once again shine through. He had a way of giving Mike hope. At this point in his life Mike hoped Dr. P’s outlook would continue to influence him. He needed all the hope he could get. So far, Mike remained locked in an internal battle between trust and distrust, truth and lies, good and evil. Perhaps this was one reason he remained a steadfast bachelor.

———-

The University History Museum was one of Mike’s obligatory field trip destinations. The others were the University Library and the City Museum of Art. Mike liked the University Museum because of its world-class exhibits on war, and like it or not, the study of various wars was part of a historian’s stock-and-trade. The visit began like all others. Mike gave an orientation talk at the main desk and conducted the class to the first of a handful of relevant exhibits. As he was explaining the armor and weaponry of the Crusades, a commotion arose near the front desk. “Everybody down! Nobody move!” a man’s voice shouted.

Mike remembered that today was also the first day of a special exhibit featuring some of the crown jewels and other priceless artifacts made from precious metals. Really, they’re robbing the place with brute force in the middle of the day… Mike thought. Well, by threatening all these innocent people, they might just get away with it. Mike instructed the class to move to the next room, “The History of Coal,” and find places to hide. He peeked around the corner. Two armed men had forced the visitors and staff to lie on their faces. This cannot stand, Mike thought to himself. Over his shoulder was a display of swords and shields. One set caught his eye – Spanish steel – unlike his previous visits it seemed strangely familiar. As he reached for the case, its door opened. Curious, he thought. In a second, he was confronting the gunmen, unaware of taking the antique weapons or how he came to stand before them so quickly.

“What are you gonna do with those, shithead?” one of the two asked.

Mike stood his ground. He didn’t speak.

“Hey, he asked you a question, dipshit. What are you gonna do with those?” the other chimed in.

“Those who will not believe must first be taught to see rightly.” Mike stated calmly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” the first gunman asked.

At this point, Mike advanced. The gunmen opened fire on him. The shield took the impacts. The sword struck the weapons from their hands. The shield knocked them senseless.

“There’s another one!” someone shouted from the floor, pointing the way.

Mike entered the special exhibits room. Shots were fired. The same fate awaited the third gunman. By now some in the gallery recognized Mike. “Isn’t that Professor James?” “I didn’t know he could handle a sword like that.” “Well, I didn’t know a Crusader shield could fend off 20^th Century bullets.” “How is this even possible?”

The police apprehended the would-be thieves, and their driver, who by then just gave up. Mike returned the antique weapons to their case. Later the Museum director noted that there were no marks on them. It was as if they never left the display. The next time class met, one of Mike’s students joked, “Now we all know we’d better not screw with you, Professor James.”

3.

“Are you kidding me?” Stan blurted out. “You took an old sword and shield out of a display case and singlehandedly confronted armed robbers? Are you out of your mind?”

“That’s just it, Stan,” Mike replied. “I don’t remember how I got the sword. All I know is the case opened just as I reached for it. And, I don’t remember how I came to stand in front of the gunmen. To top it all off, I certainly can’t explain how there was no damage to the shield. Modern bullets should have ripped right though it like a piece of paper at that range.”

“Well, what did you mean by “Those who will not believe must first be taught to see rightly? Isn’t that what you said?”

“So, they tell me. I can’t remember saying that either.”

“For God’s sake, Mike! What can you tell me?”

“Not much,” Mike paused. “Maybe I did what I did for God’s sake.”

“Don’t joke about it.”

“I’m not. Either I’m out of my mind, as you said, or I have major talents I don’t know about, including some magical or divine way to make an old shield bullet-proof. Even talking about this makes me sound insane.”

“I’ll need to think about all this, Mike. I don’t believe you’re insane. But you should know there is another possibility.”

“What’s that?”

“I know you don’t believe in miracles, but…”

“Don’t say it, Stan.”

4.

The questions were relentless. “How did you do it, Professor James?” “When did you learn how to move like that?” “Who taught you to use a sword?” “Did you learn over the summer?” “Were you sacred?” “I heard the shield had no marks on it. Is that true?” “What did the police say?” “Would you do it again?” The police were satisfied that Mike somehow moved quickly enough to subdue the thieves, with no loss of life or major injuries. The news media were calling him a hero. Security camera footage was baffling, however. From one angle the sword and shield seemed to glow or give off some form of blue light. The video analyst chalked it up to some weird reflections from the sun that happened at that hour. Some visitors weren’t so sure. Internet theories had it that the sword and shield were “enchanted” or that Mike had secretly become a Ninja-like warrior to illustrate sword fighting techniques to his classes. Other internet denizens reported the whole incident was a hoax or was staged to drum up Museum business. Yet, the bullets, the thieves, and the getaway car were real. The police were just as amazed as Mike that the thieves confessed the whole plan after they regained consciousness. They acted like men who were scared straight, to use the old 1978 documentary terminology. They said they “believed” and would never do such a despicable thing again. They all took plea deals, stipulating their guilt. They even insisted on apologizing in person to everyone they had threatened the day before.

Mike kept trying to make sense out of the past few days. First, some belligerent twenty-somethings fled like a flock of birds when he interrupted their taunts. Then, he stopped armed robbers who later claimed they had found God and were terribly sorry. What was going on? What had happened to Michael Christopher James? How was he capable of…he didn’t know what to call it? Stan said it could be a miracle. The jury was still out.

After a couple of weeks, Mike felt like life was returning to normal. His students seemed to have put the incident behind them. Stan wasn’t talking about miracles as much as he was expressing gratitude that everyone was alright. He continued to pray that Mike would “find his way.”

Friday afternoon came. Mike decided to take a walk to clear his head. He had no classes on Friday afternoons, so he could take his time, wander around off campus, see what was happening nearby, maybe get something to eat, or run into an acquaintance. About 3 blocks from the University stood a Mosque. As Mike strolled down the street, he saw many worshippers entering the building. As he reached the walkway to the main doors, a van pulled up and its side door slid open. A man in a black hoodie tossed a package out of the van. It landed on the portico in the middle of a crowd of people. The van sped off. Mike ran towards the Mosque. As he did, he removed his jacket. He reached for the package, enclosing it in his jacket. Now, with the package wrapped in his coat, he ran towards the street. There were still too many people. There was no other choice. Mike fell on the package, holding it tight in his arms, covering it with his body as best he could. The bomb exploded, lifting Mike off the ground, for all to see, but somehow his jacket contained the blast. Someone in the crowd shouted, Mika’il! Others joined in. Mike tossed what was left of his jacket aside and ran.

———-

Stan heard an insistent knock on his door. “Let me in, Stan!”

“Mike, what happened?” Stan opened the door and noticed the burn marks on Mike’s clothes. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I think so. But I shouldn’t be.”

“OK…why is that?”

“Have you heard anything about a Mosque bombing on the other side of campus?”

“Dear God. I was just watching TV and there was breaking news. The reporter said details are still sketchy, but it looks like someone covered a bomb with his body, then ran away. He…saved…hundreds…of…” Stan realized one of the details was standing in his foyer.

“They kept shouting, Mika’il! Mika’il! Mika’il!” Mike sighed.

“Please. Sit down, Mike…Michael. Mika’il is Arabic for Michael.”

“How would anybody there know my name?”

“It’s not that they knew your name, Mike, but the name of someone Muslims revere. You saved people, with what appears to be supernatural power.”

“Wait. Someone…what?”

“The Archangel, named, Michael. Mika’il is recognized as a force of nature. Smothering a bomb would be child’s play for him. He and Jibrail, who we know as Gabriel, are specifically mentioned in the Quran. Do you remember visiting Abraham a long time ago?”

“Don’t kid around, Stan. For Pete’s sake, I’m not an angel.”

“The viral video clips indicate otherwise. You rescued a Jewish kid from his tormenters, saved dozens of people from armed intruders at the Museum, using Crusader-era weapons no less, and now hundreds at a Mosque. There are two clips showing you stifling a bomb without getting blown up.”

“Come on, Stan. It’s just as possible that bomb was a dud, or built wrong, or…”

“Or…it could be another miracle.”

“Stop saying that!”

“Well, it’s either a miracle or you are Michael, one of God’s Archangels. If you’re the latter, the question is, why don’t you know it?”

“No. The question is, are you out of your mind?”

“I’m just saying, we need to recognize the possibility that you could be Mika’il, Michael, an Angel of God. Have you ever had any inkling that you do not belong here?”

“We’ve talked about this. You said we all feel like this is not our real home from time-to-time. You know, all that palaver about a God-shaped hole we’re all trying to fill. Some drink, others have sex, others take drugs, others seek wealth, power, or fame. You and the good people I somehow saved today have turned to religion – towards what they think is God – to fill the void. So, yes, I often feel like I don’t really belong here, but not in the crazy sense that I’m an immortal angel who really belongs in heaven. If I said that last part out loud to anyone but you, they’d have me committed.”

“Don’t worry, Mike. I’m not going to call the men in white coats. I’m merely trying to take the proposition of belonging somewhere else seriously. Have you ever felt like you’re supposed to be on a mission? Has anyone ever told you that you were meant to fulfill some greater purpose than being a college professor?”

“When I was in elementary school, there was this kid, from next door. Today we’d call him a latchkey kid. We only lived in that house for a couple of years. He and his Mom only lived next door for a few months. My Mom used to invite him over for after school snacks with me. One day, out-of-the-blue – we were doing our homework, or rather trying to as we watched Superman on TV – he told me he thought I was like Superman, that I had a purpose beyond anything I could imagine. After his Mother moved, I never heard from him again.”

“What was his name?”

Mike thought hard for a minute, “This is the first time I’ve thought of him in over 25 years. His name was…Gabe…”

5.

Coincidences. The narrative fallacy. As a historian, Mike was aware of the problems. He had seen them many times before. People’s lives have been shaped by the stories they believed. During the American Civil War, the Union and Confederate Armies both believed God was on their side. During WWII, most Americans believed God was with them. So did most Nazis. Construct the right narrative, and many will believe it. Tens of thousands died to preserve their “way of life,” or so they were told by their respected storytellers. Millions died for a Thousand-Year Reich. Some misguided souls believe Jews want their jobs, so their story goes. Some want to brand black or brown people as inferior, because they believe certain stories about them. The story need not be true. It need not contain facts. It only has to connect the right dots. Show the right images and a Saint could be made to look like a vile sinner, or vice-versa. The lie is in the selection process. Propaganda works like this. Cults as well. But sometimes, on rare occasions, the story turns out to be true. Mike wondered about his own story. What dots had he been leaving out of it, consciously or unconsciously? Was it as obvious as Stan wanted to believe?

Mike wanted to “see rightly.” He had spent the last several years helping young people get a handle on history, to quote another of his catch phrases. He now needed to do what he so often told his students to do – get some perspective. But what kind of perspective will help you decide if you are the Archangel Michael, or just Dr. Michael James, mild-mannered Professor of History at a great metropolitan university?

Stan did his best to offer help. “Michael is the only angel referenced in the Torah, the Bible, and the Quran. He is seen as a defender of Israel, of justice, of good over evil. The Revelation of St. John says Michael will one day vanquish Satan, the author of evil. Michael is the most powerful of the Archangels. Look, Mike, I don’t want you to get a swelled head, but I’ve always considered you the most principled man I know. If anybody wants to do the right thing, it’s you. You’re like a dog with a bone when it comes to truth. And nobody stands up for the underdog like you. Remember how we met?”

“I’ll never forget the feeling of ice-cold lemonade running down my back.”

“Neither will the homeless vets we were trying to find apartments for. They laughed ‘til they cried.”

“So did you!” Mike chuckled.

“How many times do I have to apologize? It was an accident. I just turned around and there you were.”

“You don’t need to apologize. It’s just water…or rather lemonade…under the bridge. We met, and you’ve been a good friend. That’s all we need to know.”

“Don’t you see, Mike? If you keep doing extraordinary things, the evidence will mount. What your old friend, Gabe, predicted could turn out to be right. Either way, I’ve got your back, buddy.”

“Thanks, Stan. I’ll keep an open mind. By the way, did you get the name of Jacob’s Rabbi? I still want to have a chat.”

“Here’s the address. Ohev Sholom, on 8^th Street.” Stan handed him a slip of paper. “I’m not sure what he can tell you, but any information could help.”

“I’m hoping Rabbi…Karshner will tell me why Jacob ran off to see him in such a hurry.”

———-

“Thank you for meeting with me, Rabbi Karshner. I’m Michael James. I teach history at the university.”

“I know who you are. It’s all over the news. I must say, I’m honored to meet you.”

“Well, don’t be too honored yet, Rabbi. My friend, Stan, told me where to find you. It seems you know one of his students, Jacob.”

“I don’t just know him as a student. He’s my son as well!”

“Oh. Stan left that part out. I didn’t realize…I didn’t know his last name. Stan told me he’s a brilliant student.”

“Somehow I get the feeling you will know a lot of names before you’re finished with your work.”

“And what’s my work?” Mike asked as he thought about his uncanny ability to recall every student who ever attended one of his classes. Stan called it freaky. Until now, Mike just thought about it as one of those things, like fast arithmetic, some people are fortunate to have. Stan admitted he was terrible with names, but said he never forgot a face.

“I’m not sure, but I think it’s very important, possibly ultimately important, depending on who you might consult.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve been talking to Stan about this. He thinks I could be…the Archangel known as Michael. I keep telling him, just because a guy has a handful of improbable experiences doesn’t make him an angel.”

“Jacob told me that when you faced those bullies, he saw a blue aura around your head and shoulders. I have no reason to suspect he was lying to me. Jacob has always been truthful.”

“Maybe it was just the angle of the sun. The police said that’s why the sword and shield seemed to glow. Under stress our eyes can play tricks on us. I think maybe you and your son could be blowing that incident out of proportion. Please understand, I’m not ready to believe I am who you think I am.

“Are you sure? What does your heart say? Can you look me in the eye and tell me you are 100% certain you are not who Stan, Jacob, and I think you might be? If not, you must allow for the possibility. That’s all any of us can do.”

Mike fixed his gaze on Rabbi Karshner. He was framed in light from the street, warmly welcomed by the old pane windows behind his oak desk. Mike reflected on the possibility as the Rabbi put it. He was about to reply with another question when he saw it. The windows that freely admitted light to the room, and momentarily to his mind, were no protection from a palm-sized rock hurtling towards the gentle man he had just met. Mike vaulted from his chair and snatched the rock with a one-handed catch, just inches away from the Rabbi’s head, simultaneously shielding him from the tumbling shards of glass. Just as effortlessly as he did this, he closed his fist and crushed the rock into the waste basket.

The Rabbi was speechless for a moment, then managed a weak joke. “Dr. James, I doubt there is a professional baseball player anywhere on Earth who could make a catch like that.”

Mike regained his seat, but only a little of his composure. As his eyes returned from azure to brown, he quietly said, “Deeds like that cannot stand.”

“I agree,” replied the Rabbi. “But what can we do? The forces of hatred and evil seem to be mounting and good people are too often rendered powerless by fear, lies, and intimidation.”

“Fear not…” Michael declared. Then he was Mike again.

Rabbi Karshner restated his question, more emphatically. Dr. James, are you 100% sure you’re not an angel? After what I’ve just witnessed, it seems a stronger possibility than you were willing to admit a few moments ago.”

“Look, there are millions of Michaels in the world. If I’m really The Archangel Michael, why don’t I know it? Why isn’t my purpose clear? What am I doing teaching at a university when I’m supposed to be leading God’s army or something like that? Why can’t I see it? Alright. I’m ready to grant the possibility, as you say, but why in God’s name am I here?”

“None of us is here without the approval of Yahweh. Sometimes our purpose is hidden for a reason. Sometimes we choose not to follow Yahweh for a time. Yet, He still waits for us. He still has work for us to do. David had no idea he was supposed to slay Goliath until Yahweh called him to do it. You may be in the dark for many reasons, but I’m sure there is a plan. There is something you will be called to do. All that you’ve experienced so far is but a prologue to a larger story.”

“And, what is that, then?”

“I don’t know. All we know are the traditions, the stories about you…about Michael, that is. You may be called upon to do what you have done in the past or something you’ve never done before. Yahweh is not bound by our rules and conventions. All I can say is that if you truly accept the possibility, you will have taken the first step in discovering who you are. Even if you are not the Michael portrayed in the Torah, the Bible, and the Quran, you will be open to become more than who you are at this moment.”

“Very well, Rabbi. I accept the possibility. Fully, with no reservations. Tell Jacob I may or may not be an angel, but I’ve still got his back.”

“Somehow I don’t think those boys will bother him again.”

“I’m not talking about just that. I’ve got your back too, Rabbi. And the backs of all the Children of Israel, the Children of Islam, and the followers of Jesus as well. Even if I’m not The Michael, I stand with all those who worship the Lord in spirit and in truth.”

“So, you believe in Yahweh now?”

“I’m working on it, Rabbi.”

6.

“Rabbi Karshner called me, Mike. He told me what you did. Are you convinced yet?” Stan queried.

“Stan, I’m going to tell you the same thing I told the Rabbi. I accept the possibility I could be Michael, an Archangel of God. But, as I told him, there are millions of Michaels in the world. I still need to come to grips with why I would be The Michael, as opposed to just another Michael.”

“Well, yes, there are millions of Michaels out there. Let me ask you, how many of them drove away bullies by their mere presence, brought a sword to a gun fight and won, absorbed the blast of a bomb without a scratch, and crushed a rock to dust with their bare hand?”

“One, I suppose.”

“Correct! Unless you’ve heard news reports about someone else doing these things. Have you heard the Imam was quoted as saying you may be the Angel Mika’il in human form? He wants to meet you, by the way. It seems our friend, the Rabbi, has been busy. He told the Imam you said you stand with the Children of Islam and all others who worship in spirit and truth. Anyhow, he wants to thank you in person. You’re becoming a celebrity whether you want to or not.”

“Oh, boy…I hope my remarks don’t get taken out of context. I wasn’t trying to pick a favorite religion. I was just showing support. You know somebody on the internet will say I don’t like Buddhists or Hindus or Sikhs or Rastafarians, or whatever their favorite religion might be. One advantage of being an atheist all these years is that I’ve managed to respect sincere followers of many religions. I know there are atheists who hold all religious people in contempt and denigrate all religions more or less equally, but I’m not one of them.”

“I get that, Mike. But have you changed your perspective?”

“A little, Stan. It now seems to me all religions are wrong, or at least mistaken about many things. How could they be right when so many millions have been disenfranchised, persecuted, and slaughtered in the name of religion? How could they be right when they practically go to war over minor differences of opinion? Should people follow Popes and Priests, or Presbyters and Pastors, or Ayatollahs and Imams, or should they just follow the ancient texts to the best of their ability? Should people pray to the Saints or only to God? Should people be baptized by sprinkling or immersion? Should churches include art and music or shun these in the name of purity? There are scores of Christian denominations, and dozens of Islamic sects. The Jewish faith runs the gamut from strict traditionalists to those who are so reformed they are scarcely Jewish, other than by ethnicity. As an atheist, it seems to me God, if he exists at all, must be much bigger than any religion, or any human interpretation of him. So, I stand with anyone who is really trying to understand who and what God might be, rather than telling others they’re doing it wrong or searching for reasons to go to war over their so-called beliefs.”

“It sounds like you’re disgruntled by the whole system of religion, the whole theology game, as so many play it. Well, join the club, Mike. More and more people are becoming frustrated by the disunity and divisiveness of religion. It seems like some so-called Christian churches measure their faith more by who they contrive to keep out than who they welcome in. In Islam, there is sectarian violence. Then we have conflicts between followers of the major religions. How can religion be a positive influence in the world when the religious can’t stop fighting amongst themselves?”

“Indeed. The war should be between good and evil, not between various interpretations of the good. There was once a War in Heaven,” Mike began, his eyes glinting towards azure blue, “And it didn’t work out so well for some of my…brothers. If you think War on Earth is horrifying, you have not witnessed War in Heaven. We had to…separate those who proclaimed their version of the good to be superior to The Lord God from those who understood – those who could see rightly.” By now, Michael’s eyes gleamed pure blue, and his voice rang like a celestial bell. Stan took a step or two back from his friend.

“Mike…Michael!” Stan tried to be heard. His friend’s appearance had now changed into a being awesomely beautiful and terrifying at the same time.

“The Lord God did not create people to become little Lords, to take advantage over others. Those who claim to be more holy than others are evil. Those who claim to be righteous when they are not are evil. Those who dominate, degrade, and destroy do evil. Those who claim to do good, but in the name of The Lord God stir up division and set brother against brother or sister against sister do evil. There is no hierarchy of good. There is only good and evil. My brother, Lucifer, thought he was better than his brothers, indeed, better than even The Lord God. He tried to gain advantage. He tried to declare himself Lord. He claimed to be good, righteous, and holy, but ended up sowing division and setting what should have been good against itself, turning Heaven inside-out, and leading many of my brothers and sisters towards evil. The Lord God instructed me to…” here Michael paused as if remembering a terrifying act. “Sometimes a thing must be done, even though it causes anguish. I closed the gates of heaven to Lucifer and his companions. One day I’ll close the gates of creation to all evil in the name of The Lord God.”

Mike took a labored breath and slumped down in a nearby chair, now motionless as a stuffed toy. His eyes were closed. Stan stepped towards him and took his pulse.

“Michael…Mike…are you alright?”

There was no response for almost a minute. Stan dialed 9-1-1. The operator responded. Mike stirred. Stan replied, “I’m sorry. My friend passed out and I thought he might need an ambulance, but he’s looking much better now. Yes. I’m sure. I don’t need assistance. Right. I’ll drive him to the ER if he wants to be checked out. Thank you. Sorry to bother you.”

“Who was that, Stan?” Mike asked.

“I’m glad you’re sitting down. Let me tell you what just happened.”

———-

As soon as Mike entered the Mosque, he was surrounded by young men who bowed to him and thanked him profusely for saving the life of loved ones who were there when he smothered the bomb. He was escorted to the office of the Imam, who immediately greeted him, “As-Salaam-Alaikum.” (Peace be on you.) Mike replied in kind, although he couldn’t explain how he knew to say, “Wa-Alaikum-Assalaam-wa-Rahmat-Allah-wa-Barkaatahu.” (May peace be on you along with Allah’s Mercy & His Bounties.)

The Imam seemed impressed, “Please, call me Yusef.”

Yusef was eager to thank Mika’il for saving the lives of so many who would have died without his presence. Mike told him he wasn’t sure he had a right to be called Mika’il, but he was grateful for the honor. He went on to outline all the improbable things he had experienced in the past few weeks. He made the point that there could be a logical explanation for everything, one that had nothing to do with the intervention of Yahweh, Allah, or The Lord God.

Yusef waited patiently, then responded, “Mika’il…Michael, I appreciate the fact that you are not eager to take credit for any of your extraordinary deeds. I’ve spoken with Rabbi Karshner and we agree that it is possible you could be one of Allah’s messengers. If so, in time you may be called to separate the faithful from the unfaithful. Until then, you may be needed as a warrior to stand against evil, as you did for Islam two weeks ago.”

“Thank you for your confidence in me, Yusef, but how can I know for certain? Why do you think I either don’t know or can’t remember who I am? And why is it that so many who claim to be faithful end up harming or killing others in God’s name?”

“All good questions. Let me answer them one-by-one. You should have enough evidence by now. You have told me what your friend heard you say. Who says these things, other than one who is spiritually attuned to Allah? You say you are an atheist, yet you are deeply concerned with truth, justice, and righteousness. All of these are the qualities of angels.”

“They are also the qualities of good men, Yusef,” Mike interrupted.

“They are. However mere men cannot back them up with celestial power. You not only express concern about protecting the innocent and the faithful, you are able to do so physically. With each passing day, you are becoming who you really are, who Allah wants you to be. It’s only a matter of time until you realize this with certainty. As to why you don’t know or remember, I can’t tell you. All I can say is that the will of Allah will be made clear in his time, not ours.”

“The Rabbi told me pretty much the same thing, in different terms.”

“Now for the most difficult question. There are two broad areas to consider. First, some people are so certain they are right that they hurt or kill others to prove their certainty. We know all too well that Muslims, Jews, and Christians have been murdered in their houses of worship. There was even a case in which Sikhs were murdered by someone who thought they were Muslims. Their killers believed they deserved to die because they believed in the wrong God or worshipped their God in the wrong way or just because they were the wrong race or nationality. In my opinion, these people kill because they believe their will is Allah’s will, they set themselves up to be like Allah, or worse, they think they are Allah. In Islam, and in the Judeo-Christian tradition as well, this is considered blasphemy. We should place no God above the one God, especially ourselves! Blasphemers will never go so far as to admit they are claiming to be God – judge, jury, and executioner – but this is what they are in fact doing. Muslims and Jews can live together in peace. They have done so in the past. However, when, for whatever reason – pride, greed, political power, revenge – some feel God-like in striking down their enemies, there can be no peace.”

“I see. What’s the second area?”

“As you know, there are people within each major religion who have differing ideas about how to follow the will of their God. Some Muslims believe Allah speaks primarily through the writings of the prophet. Others believe in following the tradition and wisdom of the Ayatollahs. Some Christians believe the Bible must be followed to the letter, while others believe God speaks through the Pope and his Priests. Jews, Christians, and Muslims all revere their holy books, but internally they differ on how these books are to be interpreted. When people can’t agree on interpretation, and their spiritual leaders are unable to help them reconcile their differences, various sects and denominations can literally go to war. Protestants vs. Catholics, Sunni vs. Shia, and so on. Again, each group wants to be right more than they want to work together to seek the will of their God. I believe Allah weeps when he sees his children fighting over the best way to follow him. We ought to be helping each other, not throwing bombs at one another.”

“Good points. I’m happy to learn you are among those who seek peace and reconciliation. It seems to me some spiritual leaders are more interested in militancy than unity. Even though I’ve been an atheist for my whole adult life, I remain a seeker. I want to know if God exists, and if he does, what he wants me to do.”

“Are you still claiming to be an atheist?”

“Well, maybe I’m admitting God is trying to tell me something.”

“I believe he is. May you discover the will of Allah.”

7.

If you’ve read this far, you’re probably wondering how an angel became an atheist, and why that angel wouldn’t know he was an angel. It occurs to the author of this little fantasy that each of us can go through a part of our life, or perhaps our whole life, without knowing who we truly are. We are given a name by which we might be called by family members, friends, colleagues, and companions. We carry a surname, a family name, that we can bear with honor or shame, depending on the actions of past family members. There may be hundreds, thousands, or millions of people with at least one of our names, yet each of us is a unique individual. Some believe we were created “a little lower than the angels” with the understanding that our choices would determine what we would ultimately become – the kind of beings even angels might honor, or the kind of monsters described in fairy tales. We all have great potential. According to many faith traditions, we are immortal. CS Lewis wrote, “There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations – these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub and exploit – immortal horrors or everlasting splendors.” So, it is not that far-fetched that Mike doesn’t know who he truly is or what he is supposed to do. Like us, he is on a journey of discovery. Unlike us, he is quite possibly an Archangel, created to teach us to see rightly, to set things right, and to defend the faithful against all evil.

We may not yet have supernatural powers, but we do have the opportunity, some would say, the obligation, to resist evil and to hold fast to whatever is good. Mike…Michael…Mika’il…has decisions to make. Yet, his choices are not categorically different from our own. Should he choose to embrace who he is, or not? Should he believe God has a purpose for him, or not? Should he take steps to fulfill his mission, whatever it might be, or not? Should he keep trying to be the best version of himself he can be, or just give up?

Does it matter whether Michael chose to relinquish his heavenly position to live the life of a College Professor or was commanded to do so by his boss? In a sense, no. Each of us must learn what we need to learn, by living through our own circumstances. Life itself challenges us to discover what matters most. Perhaps Michael needed time to reflect. Perhaps he grew weary of defending the gates of heaven, or making sure darkness and light were properly sorted out. Maybe God simply thought His faithful servant needed a little some time off. Or maybe Michael’s life, like each of our lives, is part of a much larger plan, to play out in God’s time, not ours.

Mike went to bed contemplating what Stan and his new friends had to say. He fell into a conflicted sleep. For most of his life he could not remember his dreams. Those he remembered were nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing prophetic or mythical. Mainly dreams of family holidays, favorite stories in which he had become a main character, or mostly happy times with his parents. There was only one exception. After his parents were killed in a one-in-a-million car accident – their car had skidded off a wet road and gone off a cliff – he had a persistent nightmare about it for many months. Even when he considered his nightmares, he simply hadn’t noticed much difference between his memories and his dream life. Tonight’s experience was different. He dreamed of John and Mary James.

John-Marc Amadeus James and Mary Anna Stephens. It had been nearly fifteen years since the accident. Mike had just started grad school and they were on vacation in California. They had always wanted to drive the Pacific Coast Highway. He got the call from his academic advisor, Dr. Parker. His parent’s car had gone air born and crashed into the sea. Their bodies were never found. All the police had to go on was what they found in Mary’s purse, and Mike’s phone number was all but obliterated in her address book. There was an orientation brochure from his graduate school, so they started with that. The Dean connected them with Dr. Parker, and he took on the task of telling Mike what had happened.

Tonight’s dreamscape opened with scenes of home – games, meals, his dad teaching him to ride a bike, his mom teaching him to make the best chocolate chip cookies in town. The scene shifted to his attic. He had been living in an old house near the university, and when he moved in, he deposited several boxes of memorabilia and an old trunk in the attic. He kept telling himself one day he would look through all of that and keep only what he really wanted. But day-to-day tasks and general busyness at the university had so far taken precedence.

The scene changed again. His perspective was the back seat of his parent’s car on the PCH. Rain was pummeling the windshield. The road was slick. Lights were splayed out in the car’s windows. His dad complained about how hard it was to see. He had just started a turn when the car spun out of control, broke through an old guardrail and flew. He could see the waves crashing below. He saw his mother reach out for his father’s hand. Then they were gone. They just disappeared. He felt the car strike the water and wedge itself between the rocks, but there were no bodies. There was no blood. Just silence and waves lapping at his feet.

Then he was back in his attic. The old trunk was open. It had a false bottom. He reached in to open it and a voice said, “not until you are ready.” He replied, “But I am ready. I need to know.” The voice said, “If you know, there will be no turning aside, no turning back.” He replied, “I am ready now.” The trunk emanated light from within. He looked away at first, then turned to see…and as the dream began to fade, the voice said, “Never let those around you who lack conviction deter you from your own.” The dream ended.

Mike woke up, shaking his head and slapping his face to make sure he was awake. His clock read 4:56 AM. Well, I’m not going back to sleep now, Mike thought.

———-

Mike hadn’t been in the attic since he moved in, which was right about the time he met Stan 7 years ago. Time flies. Maybe it was time to look through some things. Mike took his time, maybe hesitating because of what he might find, or maybe because the voice had said there will be no turning back. He started with some boxes. Photos, old toys, trophies, letters from mom and dad when he was in college. Letters from him to mom and dad. I’m glad I wrote, I love you, to mom and dad, he thought as he dabbed his eyes. He remembered his dad telling him the day before he left for college, “Now, son, I hear they have this new-fangled invention called an envelope, and if you put a little sticky piece of paper, called a stamp, I think, on the upper right hand corner, they take whatever you put in that envelope and deliver it to whoever’s address you write on the outside. I also hear you can even put a letter in one of those. Maybe you could send one to your mother and me from time-to-time.” John laughed. Mary only sighed at his sense of humor. Mike just said, “OK, dad, I think I’ll give this new invention a try.”

After an hour or so, Mike decided to stop procrastinating and open the trunk. It was only a dream, he  thought. Wardrobes that lead to other worlds and trunks that contain other-worldly artifacts don’t exist.

The old steamer trunk was just as he remembered it: wood with brass hardware, locked, with the key on a string tied to the leather handle. Some security system. Mike took the key and opened it. He heaved a sigh of relief when he saw old blankets and comforters. Then he remembered the part of the dream about a false bottom. He gently removed the blankets, which incidentally didn’t smell at all like they had been in a trunk for over 15 years. As he laid the last one aside, he noticed a little leather tab in the corner of the bottom. Now or never? After a moment’s hesitation, he pulled on the tab. Mike’s blood pressure went up a notch. There was indeed a false bottom. Inside it was a royal blue robe, and inside the robe was a sword. Around the collar of the robe was embroidered in gold thread a single word, iūstitia (justice). The robe appeared to be brand new. The sword was silver, with a golden hilt, and was also inscribed with a single word, veritas (truth).A stern voice said, “If you are ready, you may put on the robe and take up the sword with the blessing of The Lord God. But if you do so, see that you turn not aside, and turn not back. The Lord God needs you.”

A part of Mike was hoping his dream would not come true. Another part, perhaps the better part, was hoping it would. Stan had told him some people believe in God because they take the scriptures to heart. Others believe because their families or communities have raised them to believe. And others believe because they have experienced something so profound or undeniable that they simply must believe. The Apostle Paul is in the latter group. Maybe Mike was in good company, but this still didn’t answer the question of why he had spent 37 years in the dark.

It was becoming clear that John and Mary were probably more than his “parents,” in the conventional sense of that word. Perhaps their mission was to raise him to adulthood, to teach him to see rightly, and have confidence God would take it from there. But again, why didn’t they just tell him who he was? Why don’t any of our parents just tell us who we are? Probably because we need to discover who we are on our own. There is only so much even the best parents can teach us. John-Mark Amadeus James and Mary Anna Stephens had been model parents, in every sense of the word. They had given all they could, asked the right questions, and guided the right experiences, yet it was still up to Mike to figure out what to do with all that. He was on the brink of a crucial decision. Yet, he didn’t think he was ready, not in the least.

So, he decided to sleep on it, if he could.

8.

The next morning, a bright Sunday to be specific, Mike awakened to a radio broadcast announcing, “breaking news.” Gunmen had entered the Bethel AME Church during the morning service and claimed to have planted several bombs in the building. They were threatening to detonate them if anyone tried to leave. Early reports indicated a white nationalist group was behind the threat. Social media posts claimed they were making a point. They could strike anywhere and anytime, and no one could stop them. Their objective was simple: “We want to take back our country.” Inside the church everyone was praying for deliverance.

I wonder how many nationalists consider themselves Christians, Mike thought, as he finished dressing. If only there was some way, I could stop them. But I would need to be there at once, and how is that possible? Mike gritted his teeth. This cannot be allowed to stand.

For a moment, he thought about putting on the robe and taking up the sword. Then he thought about the incident at the museum. Those weapons were good enough to stop bullets and subdue any attackers then. I must be out of my mind. The museum was closed on Sundays. I must be in the Crusader exhibit – right now! His thought became reality. In a moment, he was standing in front of the Sword Case, admiring fine Spanish steel. As he reached out, the case opened, and the weapons were in his hands. Now, I must be inside the Bethel AME Church – without delay!

Out of nowhere, Mike, armed with ancient weapons, appeared on the platform of the Bethel AME Church. The Choir, who had been praying aloud until that moment, fell silent. The Reverend Charles Massey exclaimed, “there stands the answer to our prayers!” By then, Mike had taken on the appearance of the being Stan had witnessed in his office. Several ladies fainted. The congregation hid among the pews. The gunmen didn’t wait. They instantly opened fire on the intruder. Six gunmen armed with AR-15s trained their weapons on Michael. He didn’t wait either. His raised his shield in time, and one-by-one he felled his attackers, either by deflecting their bullets directly back into their bodies, or cutting them down with his sword, which by now seemed to be made of fire. Miraculously, none of the men were killed, and several church members were able to subdue them as Michael struck them down.

There remained the bomb threat. One of the Deacons shouted, “I have the remote!”

Michael replied, “These men are too cowardly to risk bombing themselves.” As he said this, he heard an electronic chirp emanate from the main entrance. He was there before anyone could see how he got there. Behind the coat rack, in the clothing donation box was the device. Michael seized it and was high in the air when it went off. His shield took the blast. The bomb squad searched the building and found no more bombs. They concluded the bomb was detonated from off site. The Church held a special service of thanksgiving that evening. Mike sat in his living room and stared at the news footage as if he was watching someone else do what he just did. Cell phone cameras, he sighed.

———-

“What are you going to do, Mike?” Stan asked, clearly shaken by Mike’s recap of the last two days.

“After learning I could be anywhere on Earth in a Biblical twinkling of an eye, I find the offer of Archangelic power tempting.”

“Who wouldn’t want to have virtually unlimited power, speed like The Flash, and the ability to teleport?” Stan reflected.

“That’s the problem. I think the idea of me having this kind of responsibility is dangerous. No one should have that kind of power. Lucifer had it and look what happened to him. What if I become the next Lucifer?”

“The fact that you’re asking that question tells me that’s not likely. Besides, you had great power before and did just fine.”

“Then why did I give it up, or why was it taken away?”

“You’re asking the wrong person. Only God can answer those questions. Maybe rather than ask me, you should pray to him.”

“I thought you would say something like that, Stan. That’s what I like about you. You never give up.”

“Neither does God, Mike.”

“What do you think I should do, then?”

“As much as I would like to keep you around as my friend, I think you need to be who you are. We all do. We can do the most good if we embrace the person God intends us to be. Be Michael. Take up the celestial sword and do what God commands. If that means I won’t get to see you until judgement day, so be it. The universe needs Michael more than one man needs Mike.”

“You are truly a good friend, Stan.”

9.

The Sword of Truth and the Robe of Justice remained in Mike’s closet for three days. Mike thought he needed that time to get his worldly affairs in order. He arranged to give what he had to those in need and resigned his position at the university. Stan’s words had done their work. He trusted Stan like a brother. With his help, he had begun to believe there was much more to the universe than could be described by science and human philosophy. He and Stan had talked about this at length, and on a deep level his spirit agreed. He also began to experience a new sense of freedom. If the truth will set you free, Mike had come to believe he could be the one to help administer that truth, potentially setting billions free. Yet, as close as he was to making his ultimate decision, he didn’t believe his immediate work on Earth was done. He had the unshakeable sense that as soon as he donned the robe and took up the sword, he would be required to accomplish something everlastingly important.

Mike needed to know one more thing before he became Michael. He bowed his head, and for the first time in years he prayed.

“Why, Lord, was I living as a man? Why did I not know I was your servant?”

A soothing voice replied, “You told me you were tired. All beings need rest. You know even The Lord God rested. You told me you wanted to gain perspective, to live without your angelic powers for a time. I agreed to your request. But it was you who laid down your robe and sword.”

“Then, Lord, why did I show my power before I was ready to resume my duties?”

“No creature can be other than what it is for long. You, Michael, are one of my Archangels. You have served me well in the past and will do so again – very soon. The robe and shield merely signify your responsibilities. On their own, they can confer nothing. You are what you are, Michael. Your only choice is to remain in my service or to decline.”

“What if I decline?”

“You will not decline. You have accomplished much good in my name and will accomplish more than you can imagine.”

“My Lord and My God.”

Mike put on the robe and took up the sword. Michael, Archangel of God, stood in his living room, ready to serve.

10.

There have been a lot of predictions about “the end times.” However, the main proscription has been largely ignored. “But about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.” Predictions based on “the signs” are dubious at best. No one really knows how to interpret the signs. The end of the world has been professed multiple times, and each time many people thought the signs were clear. Yet, no one knows other than The Lord God. It’s wise to keep this in mind.

Some sects want to hasten the end times, by preaching their version of the gospel to all nations, by forming alliances between their religion and their nation-state, or by advocating actions they believe fulfill prophecy. The problem with prophecy is that it’s often self-fulfilling. Militant or fundamentalist religions can incite hatred or foster a spirit of supremacy or a will to dominate, alliances between church and state tend to corrupt both and crush people in the process, and encouraging certain actions, such as supporting extremist factions, occupying disputed territories, rebuilding the Temple, depleting the world’s natural resources, or promoting war instead of peace can all hasten Armageddon, but to what end? To force God’s hand? To somehow make The Lord return to set things right? If people deliberately make things worse in the hope that divine intervention will then make things better, how is this different from Satan tempting Christ to throw himself down from the Temple? Is the objective to test God? Again, God controls the end times, not the leaders of major religions, not the generals of world armies, and certainly not the governments of the Earth.

Stan’s understanding was that no matter what our religion, we are expected to love one another. To him, this was the one sign that mattered. Loving one another is a sign that we love God. Pushing the world towards chaos, destruction, and widespread suffering is the opposite of loving one another. A religion becomes “false” or “evil” when it ignores the directives of God to advance its own agenda. Thus, an agenda of hastening the end times is evil. Ignoring the danger of climate change and environmental degradation is evil. Actively trying to make the word end is evil. Any attempt to control God’s timetable is evil. We cannot second guess God, but we can learn to love one another and be good stewards of the planet he gave us.

Mike and Stan had talked about these concepts and much more, not that Michael didn’t already have an intuitive, if dormant, understanding of God’s will. To him those who try to read the signs and those who demand wonders were cut from the same pattern. They required something extrinsic to believe. If he had learned nothing else as an atheist, it was that if religion has no intrinsic value, one would be better off as an atheist. At least, his beliefs were not based on all the things people try to add to religion. Religion plus, Stan sometimes called it. If a person could not find a way to be good just to be good or do the right thing just because it is right, all the signs, wonders, rewards, and punishments in the universe would be meaningless. The major religions of the world all teach love – generosity, hospitality, respect, kindness, peace, patience, forbearance, doing for others what you would want them to do for you. Signs and wonders have almost nothing to do with this basic ideal. Judging, excluding, condemning, and killing others certainly have even less to do with it. Yet, some religions focus on finding reasons to do these things, rather than seeking reasons to accept, include, nurture, and encourage. No wonder division so often wins over unity.

Michael was therefore not surprised to learn that the same day he resumed his age-old job, a covert army composed of a coalition of Zionist extremist groups, their American “Christian” allies, and their mercenaries had taken over The Dome of the Rock. Their plan was to plant charges and implode the building, as a step towards Armageddon. The world was thankful they had allowed 98% of the faithful to leave while they finished their mission. There had been skirmishes with Palestinian Muslims, who were justifiably outraged, but the operation was well-funded, well-planned, and well-executed, and those who resisted it were driven back. The Israeli army had taken up positions, but could not use air strikes, missiles, or mortars at the risk of being the instrument of destruction of one of the most sacred places in Islam. The situation was deteriorating rapidly and whether the Dome was destroyed or not, it was on the verge of becoming a flash point for all-out war.

The American President had signaled his support for Israel “during this difficult time,” which only made matters worse. There was little any nation could do without tremendous loss of life and potentially assisting the well-funded army in their primary mission. This is what results when zealotry masquerades as faith.

Michael prayed for the second time since his Earthly childhood, “Lord God, grant me wisdom. I could also use as much help as you can give. Please give me the strength and commitment to do your will.”

There was only one option. Michael placed himself directly above the dome. In the late afternoon light his sword and robe seemed to glow like molten gold. Several of the mercenaries opened fire. Their bullets were useless. The sword of truth turned them into what they really were to begin with – mere vapors of ignorance, pride, animosity, rage, and greed. The men who pulled the triggers felt the weight of this truth and put down their weapons.

“Stop!” Michael demanded, in a thunderous voice, speaking all languages of the world simultaneously. “This must stop!”

A spokesman for the Zionist army shouted back, “This must be! We are doing the Lord’s work!”

“Then one of us must be mistaken,” Michael replied in an even tone. Everyone was able to understand him.

“We must take back what is ours. Then the Apocalypse will come. Then the Lord will return.”

“The Lord God will return in his own time. Nothing you can do will hasten Him. Except for one thing.”

“And what is that?”

“You must be ready. Learn to listen for His still, small voice. Learn to see rightly. When you are ready, He will appear.”

“We already see rightly. We know the signs.”

“You are trying to make the signs!” Michael asserted.

“We have read the prophecy.”

“So. Have. I.”

“Then why are you trying to stop us?”

“Because what you are doing is wrong. You are trying to please the Lord by doing evil in his name. You were given three requirements. “What does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God?” Whenever you meet these requirements, you will be doing good.”

“So, are we supposed to believe you, and not God’s word? Who are you anyway?”

By this time, Michael was becoming stronger and larger, yet he maintained his even tone. “I am Michael, Archangel of The Lord God. I am here by His will to stop evil perpetrated in His name.”

“You can’t stop us!” the ersatz general declared.

“I see you demand signs and wonders,” Michael said, resigning himself to the same.

“Fire!”

Several RPGs were fired directly at Michael. According to some observers, he took them into himself, absorbing the blasts and shunting the debris skyward. This was well-documented by news cameras positioned at nearby vantage points. Those who obeyed the command to fire dropped their weapons and ran with their arms in the air. Perhaps it was the shock of seeing their weapons become ineffective against a heavenly being, or maybe it was the full realization of the truth that they had been following liars into battle.

“Leave this place. Seek peace. Learn to live with one another as brothers and sisters,” Michael was still speaking in multiple languages for all to hear.

Michael continued, “How long will the people of this world continue to harbor age-old animosities? How long will they insist that their tribe has all the answers? How long will they confuse the practices of their religions with doing the will of The Lord God? How long will it take to understand a simple commandment: Love one another? Love does not require everyone to look the same, or to come from the same land, or speak the same language, or join the same political party, or practice the same religion. Love means putting the other person’s interests above your own, or at least making them equal to your own. You need not like someone to love them. You need not approve of someone to love them. You need not agree with someone to love them. The Lord God said, ‘as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.’ Loving one another is a sign of loving God. A wise friend once told me this is the only sign that matters. Stop looking for signs and wonders. Look within yourselves. The kingdom of God is there. If you cannot find it there, you will not find it anywhere.”

The small army put down their weapons and left the holy site. Michael vanished. The media had a lot to talk about for many months. It remains to be seen whether lasting peace will be found, but for the past three years, things have been as quiet as could be expected. There has been progress on many fronts. Nevertheless, it will take time for everyone to learn to see rightly.