Gabriel Eris (Chapter 4)

"I read you, man. I know what your whole thing is. You're doing the innocent thing. I dig it. I know what that is."

The gentleman speaking was very thin and excited. The angel was just lying on his bed, thinking about God, and feeling a little homesick when the man approached, speaking to him with tremendous animation.

"What do you mean," asked Gabriel.

"I-nn-o-cence. You're playing innocent. Acting all sweet and naive. But you're just like the rest of us here. You're weak. That's okay.  Like I said, I dig it, right? You gotta do what you gotta do. This place is a freakshow. And I don't mean THIS place. No, this place is good enough. No, I'm talking about the world, man. The world is gone. It's a stinking jungle out there, brother. It's war. Half the people you meet are pirates or smugglers or something. You know what I'm sayin'?"

Gabriel got up from bed. He had decided to listen to these people the way he had listened to their prayers when he was in Heaven.  Up there, you couldn't make out all these words and you didn't need to know them. You just felt what the person was feeling, and the appropriate response would come. All these words down here were just confusing him. But if you didn't pay too much attention to their words, people's hearts were still easy to see.

"It's true, Earth is not what I was expecting to see, exactly. But I have felt human prayers for thousands of years. I am surprised at my own foolishness. I knew there would be challenges, but I imagined I would be better prepared for them than I am. The people are indeed weak, as you say. They are frightened, and now I am one of them. I do not want to be frightened. What is this place?"

The thin man was grinning and nodding to himself, extracting a cigarette from a tired-looking pack and putting it to his lips. Instead of lighting it, though, he took it out of his mouth and began pointing at Gabriel as he spoke.

"Ha, ha. So you're like an alien, is that it? Ha! Great. No, that's great. I dig it. Hey, if you can make that work, make that work. Right, guy? Yeah, no, so you're like this crazy stranger here and you don't know anything. I like that. Hey, how's that working for you? People take pity on you, or what? Wow, they must think you're bonkers. But I bet you're not. You seem real slick to me, kid. I'm no fool."

"I'm not an alien, exactly," Gabriel explained, "but a celestial being, one of the principle emanations of God. I don't know how I ended up all the way down here on Earth. I don't remember receiving a mission like this. The last thing He said to me was, 'Go forth, and spread my word.' I had no idea He wanted me to come this far. Usually, I just whisper in the ears of poets, philosophers, and priests."

"Ha, ha, I get ya. Hey, I'll play along. I bet that's what a lot of people do, huh? I bet they do it just to mess with you, right? The pretend like they believe your story, but then they just mess with you. Hey, but I'm not messing with you. Straight up. I'll just help you get your story down. If you know it really well, they'll think you believe it. Hey, you might even start believing it yourself. And more power to you, if you do. Man, it would be swell to go crazy, right? Like, to really believe you were an angel or some great thing like that."

"It does feel good, to know that I am so close to God, and that I am wonderfully made to do His will. There is nothing like it in this world."

"Right, right. I'm with ya. So, like, what do angels do?"

"In Heaven, we fly from perch to perch, prompted by the leadings of God. According to the purpose for which He has fashioned us, we perform good works. My position is to hear and respond to prayers for insight, inspiration, help with communication, and removing obstructions, so as to facilitate more freedom of movement. It is strange, though. I have never had difficulty communicating from my perches. Only now can I truly understand the difficulties these poor people were having with language. If we are not careful, it gets in the way. We have to give it only one ear, and save another for spiritual hearing."

"Spiritual hearing, eh? Ha ha, you're alright. You really got this stuff down. I bet you practice this all the time. Maybe you don't even remember who you were before you started playing this role. Hey, now that would be great. Just totally lose touch and drift off. Man, I'd love to be crazy like that."

"No, you don't want to be crazy. The best thing is to be exactly what you are. Did you know, humans are even more beautiful in the eyes of Christ than angels? Your frailty, your suffering, the ease with which you can be corrupted and the glory of winning your souls for God: these things all make you infinitely beautiful in His eyes. All our labours are directed to making and keeping you good, so as to glorify the Creator of goodness itself. We celebrate in Heaven, every time you feel or think or say or do a tender thing."

"Uh-huh. Wow, you really know your stuff. I bet you love this. You'd probably do it even if nobody was looking. It's kind of who you are now, isn't it? Man, this is trippy. You, like, created this character and you're just living it. Ha ha! Man, you're classic. Hey, but, like, you know you're not an angel, right? C'mon, you can tell me. 'Cause I don't even care. I ain't judgin' nobody. But tell me the truth, right. Are you really crazy, or do you just like playing an angel and gettin' all these saps to play along?"

"I am an angel," said Gabriel.

"Ha, ha. Never break character, right. Yeah, maybe you're crazy, or maybe you just ain't about to level with anybody. I don't know. I don't know. I guess it's kind of the same thing, though. I mean, if you really want to be an angel, and you really commit to the part, then you gotta be a little crazy, don't you. I mean that's not normal. Hey, but I ain't about to judge. You do your thing. Hey, this is cool, I'll just like talk to you as if you was a real angel."

"Okay," said Gabriel.

"So, what kind of angel are you? What's your name?"

"I'm Gabriel, the herald, the revealer of truth."

"Yeah, wow, hey, that's a mouthful. Cool name, though."

"I am called by many names."

"I bet you are, I bet you are. Hey, I just might call you Gabe. How do you like that? I used to have a rusty old dog named Abe, and that's pretty darn close to Gabe. So, here's what I'm thinking. You're gonna be my new dog. No, listen, I'm not messing with ya, promise. I loved that dog. He was my best friend, like they say, you know? But you can be, like, my guardian angel. So, it's kind of the same thing."

"Dogs are especially blessed animals. With their love and service to mankind, they share a particular likeness to Our Lord."

"I always said that! Well, not like that, exactly. But I always said dogs was special. Something about them, I don't know. Love and service, like you said. They're like that. Man, they're alright! Too bad we can't get no dogs in here."

"Why are there none?"

"In here? Heck, man, where do you think you are? This is lock-up, my man. You're in an institution, in case you haven't noticed. They don't let dogs in here. No way."

"Well, let's go out, then, and find a dog."

"Ha ha, find a dog. You're alright. All this talk about dogs, eh. You want to go find one, he. I bet you're serious. Yeah, I'd like to go find one, too. I was just thinking that. you must have read my thoughts."

The man winked at Gabriel. He had his arms crossed confidently, with the cigarette sometimes between his lips and sometimes in his hand, but never lit. They didn't allow the inpatients to carry matches.

"Come outside with me," he said, "There's an enclosure. We're allowed to smoke out there. A nurse will light this for me. Come on."

Gabriel followed the man outside where a nurse lit his smoke.

"Thank you, nice lady," said the man.

"You're welcome, Carrot. Now behave yourself."

"Ha ha. You know it!.. That's my name: Carrot. That thing everyone's trying to get. Ha ha, whatever it is. That's me."

Gabriel smiled. He felt love for the man, but at that moment he would have much preferred a real carrot. Nevertheless, in his heart he spoke the words, "Thy will be done."

Several people were sitting on benches arranged in a circle surrounded by hedges. Most of them were smoking. Some of them took a mild interest in Gabriel, because we was new, or because he had a curious look about him.

"So," began Carrot, "What was it you were saying to Mr.Crenshaw, to make him smile like that? I saw you talking to him. He's been standing like a statue under that skylight every day since I got here. Now he's playing backgammon with Mr.Wells in his room. So, what's the deal? You say something to him? You cure him?"

"I told him sunlight was not wasted on the floor."

"Not if somebody's finding it beautiful, right. Yeah, I heard what you said. Something about beauty. Hey, but nobody's in there looking at it right now. Just a puddle of sunlight nobody gives a rat's --"

"The floor is being warmed. In a moment, one of the patients here is going to walk over and sit down on the warm tiles."

"Is that so? Yeah, we'll see. I just don't know how saying something about beauty or whatever got Mr.Crenshaw to change his habits.  People been talking to him, trying to get him to come away from there and do something every single morning and afternoon for weeks. You say something and he's playing backgammon."

A bald man with a red beard could be seen inside through the windows. He was walking over to the skylight. A moment later, he sat down in the small patch of light underneath it and turned his smiling face up to be warmed by the sun. Carrot saw it and gave Gabriel a suspicious look.

"You think you predicted that?"

"I saw it. God showed it to me."

"Uh-huh. Look, I don't know if I like you. This whole thing you're doing. You think you're foolin' anybody? You ain't crazy, and you sure as hell ain't no angel from outer space or wherever. You're just some punk tryin' to put one over on everybody. Hey, I get it, I get it. I said I got it, didn't I? Life's hard. You gotta cope. Find your place. Make an angle. But, man, you don't know when to let it go. Like, I ain't no danger to you. So just tell me the truth, right. Tell me who you really are. I won't tell nobody, promise. But just don't go playing me like I'm another one of these fools around here. I ain't like them."

"Sometimes it is better to risk being foolish, in order to believe. What if I am an angel, after all? Would it not be preferable to keep an open mind, and wait a while before passing your judgement -- that is, if you are determined to make a conclusion, regardless of the evidence, or lack of evidence, for, or against, my claim? To leave the matter unsolved, or to investigate further; that would be a healthy skepticism. But to categorically dismiss the possibility, without serious investigation or experimentation --  that is simple cynicism, unworthy of the scientific attitude."

Carrot listened. "Whatever," he said, tossing his half-smoked cigarette over everyone's head. "Only a moron believes in angels. A real sucker. Or a total weakling, you know. Somebody with a psychological need to believe."

"I don't think it's unlikely, at all, when you really take the time to imagine how it might be possible. But if you spend all your time thinking up the reasons why it could never be, it will surely seem impossible to you. The interesting thing is that, if you begin by considering what may be possible, then you are essentially beginning on solid ground, with what you already know. But if, on the other hand, you are making all sorts of assumptions about angels based on things you have heard from so many different sources -- most of which cannot agree with one another -- then you are beginning with a phantom. You may end up disproving the phantom; showing how much nonsense it amounts to. But you have not so much as begun to look for the real thing, and to imagine, within the bounds of what you know, how such a thing might yet be possible. And, I assure you, it is entirely possible. Even if I were not living proof, I would still believe this. Nothing is more natural than that love and wisdom should be embodied somewhere; their holiness enshrined in living temples. For, if virtues come to life in man, why should higher virtues not come to life in beings higher than man? What is holiness, if not the essence of a virtue; its highest and purest type? If we say these things are not beautiful, we are brutes, but  if we say they are not holy, we are only mortal. Truly, we confess our kinship with the higher elements, when we confess the holiness  of virtue. If love and wisdom are not holy things, then God is not God. But we who know them deeply know these things are holy, and their holiness is the proof of God."

"Uh-huh," said Carrot.