Angels Desires
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Ascension was not the only thing that came to pass on this day.
It is difficult to tell what the people of Heaven did, for they were always in motion. Some were busy with the business of their lives—some had been born or died since last night and there would be a feast or funeral soon enough; some were engaged with one another in various ways, as the people are ever doing when time permits them.
The people who worked with the gods might have seen more than most. In Heaven’s great workshops the angels crafted wondrous things; in the gardens where God walked he sometimes picked herbs from those gardens that could cure sickness and soothe hurt; but in truth, these places were mostly empty now, for no one was sick any longer or wounded by accident or need.
But still, the people moved among their things, as if the very act of being made and used meant a life of use yet remaining, and so it is.
In the great garden which surrounded God’s throne was an angel named Gabriel. Gabriel had been given his name because of his beauty. He had been given his wings and his halo and even, in the old days, his harp before anyone else.
This pleased him much at first, but in time it became hard work, as though every moment Gabriel was expected to play, sing, speak to the world as though he had never done anything else, as though none of his time had ever been for himself: as though all of his life, up till that moment, had belonged to his brother.
Gabriel did not enjoy these thoughts and wished they would go away. It was like having others watch your dreams and think you had gone mad. And yet, as he watched God move through the garden, he found something he liked better, watching him.
There was a grace and a beauty in Him that made Gabriel feel that if he had been created to serve Him alone, he would have enjoyed his service more and felt less guilty about it. Perhaps that was how men thought of their jobs. As though everything was owed to them, rather than themselves owed to everything. Or perhaps this was just his own selfishness speaking again.
Gabriel stood at attention beside his friend, Uriel, as they both waited for instruction from above. They knew that while God was absent He spoke with His priests, who sat beneath the trees around the lake, but until the last few hours, it had never occurred to either of them to wonder what sort of talk God and His priests might have together.
For all their interest in each other’s affairs, the gods seemed content simply to leave the humans free to live their lives and die. That was why Uriel and Gabriel were here—to do whatever work needed doing until God returned and gave further orders.
The two young angels had spent their lives thus far in a state of waiting for a sign, but now it seemed likely that they would never see one, nor learn whether they had done well or badly.
As the sun sank lower and its light dimmed, God arrived from His chambers and approached His priests, walking between their ranks as though they were nothing more than potted plants. A few looked up at His approach, but most were too busy with their tasks—they had already heard the news of God’s absence and had been instructed that it was not yet their turn.
One priest, whom Gabriel remembered seeing in Heaven once before and whose name he could not recall, lifted his hand, as though to wave, and God paused, smiling, then nodded at him. “You’re welcome,” said God. The priest bowed low to the ground.
“Lord?” said the angel Gabriel, as God reached His priests’ line.
God turned toward Gabriel and said, “Yes?”
“We’ve been asked to wait on the porch for you.”
“Why is that? Did you forget something, child?”
Gabriel hesitated and then answered with a little bow, “No Lord. We were told to expect you and we wanted to be sure we were ready.”
“Oh, come now!” said God. “There is no need for such formalities! Come along!” Then He laughed and waved his hand impatiently at both angels. “Come, my dear children, let us be friends. I am sorry to disappoint you by asking you to come here instead of to your places.”
Gabriel glanced at Uriel and saw that the other was as embarrassed as he was. It made him feel ashamed. He was proud of his position, but he had never been trained in the duties of it, and neither of his fellows had.
They should know better, he thought. Yet he knew he was being too hard on them. He didn’t want to be too kind either. But if someone had taught them their roles, why had they not shared that knowledge? Perhaps some god or another had forbidden it.
They walked across the porch toward their destination. Their feet made only slight sounds on the grass; God was still in heaven, so they could hardly make a bigger ruckus. They passed the fountain where the water fell down a smooth stone into a pool below: a place for cooling off when the summer came.
In the distance was a wall of rock and beyond it a valley of green fields—not like any earthly landscape, but very different from those which Gabriel and Uriel knew best, for this world was covered in forests. On the walls of the valley were scattered many buildings. Some were square—almost human-shaped—and others were long and thin, like the trunks of trees.
All were built of wood, with roofs made of slate shingles that were dark and gleaming against the bright blue sky. At a distance, they reminded Gabriel of the wooden palaces which men sometimes built out of their dead. Only the people seemed strange, for they were all naked. Not even God wore robes.
The angels stopped abruptly on the porch and stared. This was not the first time they had seen people in Heaven, but it was the first time they had ever seen so many, and there were none who resembled the gods.
Most of them were younger than Uriel and Gabriel. Children ran among them, playing with sticks and stones and laughing. Women stood near the children, talking and laughing amongst themselves.
These women had hair of every color; some curled down their backs, and some of them twisted up behind their heads. Their bodies were not shaped like men’s, but rather as wide across as their arms were long.
Their breasts were small, and they often wore little clothes over their nipples. Many of these women carried their infants, who seemed just as curious about the visitors as their mothers were. None of them paid any heed to Uriel and Gabriel, and God’s priests walked straight past.
The children ran ahead, shouting with laughter. One of the mothers called to them urgently: “Children! Go back to your parents!” She caught one as he tried to run away through an archway and held him fast to her breast with a grip like a vice.
When she released him, his mother took his arm and led him to where she could keep him safe. Then the woman returned to her companions and laughed again. Her friends joined in until the sound became a song that went like this:
“What is it you think is funny?
How can you laugh when God is missing?”
“Heaven has fallen on our shoulders!
Our lives are ruined without Him.”
Some of the women threw their heads back and began to cry, while others clapped their hands together as if they were dancing. Others sang more songs, and some of the children started to dance as well.
A few of the adults cried harder as they watched these little ones cavorting naked upon the green grass. Soon everyone was involved in singing and dancing, and the children’s play escalated to a frenzy.
One of them darted forward and snatched away the baby which had been brought by one of the mothers. His mother screamed and grabbed him by the neck, but another woman seized the child and hugged him tightly, holding him close to her bare breasts.
Then the two mothers fought for their boy, pulling hair and kicking each other. As soon as they ceased fighting, the men appeared. One of them seized the infant and flung it high into the air; the rest followed him eagerly.
One of the women picked up the baby and held him to her breast with a fierce grip, while his other parent looked on, stunned by the violence he had witnessed. There was no need for the angels to say that this was not something that happened very often; they understood perfectly well what kind of life awaited them here if they stayed long enough.
The angels stepped back from the fight, leaving the combatants to it. They were used to seeing such things from time to time in Heaven.
Sometimes it was the result of one of the children stealing food or breaking a window; in other cases, there would be a great feast, and the children who attended were allowed to play with whatever they wished, even with those who stole or broke things.
But never had they seen anything quite so awful as the battle between mother and father for the baby. It seemed impossible that any parent could lose their self-control so easily; yet, once begun, such a thing was almost unstoppable.
One of the mothers turned her head slowly toward Gabriel and Uriel. Their robes were white, pure as snow. She was older than either of them, her hair a deep shade of blue, her face as round and rosy as an apple.
She smiled at them kindly, although she was not smiling because of their robes; only a fool could mistake how they had come here. Yet all of them – men, women, children – saw only that which they expected to see.
Only God knew that this angel was Gabriel’s sister, and only God knew why. She said nothing further until she was sure her voice would not betray her. In the meantime, her companions had settled down once again to talk and laugh amongst themselves, as if this terrible scene had never happened.
Some of them glanced nervously toward God’s priests, and then back to the angels before returning their attention to each other. After a moment, however, one of the men spoke up. His name was Michael. He was young—younger than any of the others save one, and his voice was quiet and gentle.
When he addressed God’s priests, the others listened quietly. “We have heard that there are two kinds of people in the world, those who believe in God and those who do not. Is that true?”
“That is so,” one priest replied. He was a short man wearing black robes, with a bald head and large eyes. “God created the world and made the laws which govern it, and it is He Who tells us we should not break His law.”
“And what is the law which must not be broken?”
The priests exchanged glances as if they were afraid Michael might know what he was talking about, and none of them dared answer him. Finally one of them answered reluctantly. “There is one law above all others: the Law of Love.”
“Yes. What is love? Can you tell me?”
All of the priests were silent now, looking at Michael as if he had gone mad; the words he spoke seemed to make sense, even when they did not. None of the priests had ever given thought to that particular question, though each had known instinctively that it was important.
All of them could see that Michael knew far more than he was letting on. But perhaps they were mistaken in thinking that he was mad; after all, many of them had been told by their masters that Gabriel was mad himself. It wasn’t hard to imagine a man like Michael being cast out of Heaven for speaking such blasphemous nonsense. Perhaps he really was mad after all.
But he spoke calmly now as if his mind was clear and focused on his task. “Love is obedience, loyalty, sacrifice,” he continued. “If we cannot follow God’s commandment of Love then we will suffer the consequences.”
“So you can die?” someone asked. This question came from a tall youth with a shock of blond hair.
Michael nodded gravely, and a look of fear passed over all of the other faces except Michael’s. That was understandable; they had heard that God Himself would strike down His servants for saying things He disapproved of.
No sooner had he spoken than the priests began whispering among themselves again, but the angels were too wise to speak. Even the demons did not dare interfere; God might take offense and punish them for the infraction. If that happened they would be expelled from Heaven, where they would no longer belong. They were used to dealing with that risk.
But Michael was not deterred. “Can you understand what I have just told you?” he demanded, looking around at them. A few shook their heads. “Then you can see that there is much which is missing here, and you may wonder why you have been brought here since you cannot learn these things while listening to us.
We must go down into Hell together, and there we will find out what is needed of us. You may ask any questions you want when we return. But we cannot stay long. So listen well.”
He paused to let his words sink in, then repeated the last sentence again, more loudly and clearly than before.
“Listen well!”
Gabriel and Uriel stood in silence while he finished. Then they took the lead as the demons followed behind. For a moment the priests and the demons looked at each other, then the priests hurried off in another direction, hurrying away to the left.
The demons turned right and marched steadily through the city. Here the buildings were taller, the streets wider, the walls higher, and the windows of the houses larger and brighter; and yet still all the people ignored the angels as if they were invisible. The demons walked among them silently, watching everything they did, waiting for the time when they would be allowed to speak.
A hundred yards farther on, the demons paused. A group of young men had gathered in a plaza surrounded by statues and benches; the statues depicted the gods of this world as humans dressed in robes or armor, and the benches were occupied by people who looked like gods themselves.
In the center of the plaza was an altar made of marble, adorned with gold, and on it lay a figure of God.
At that moment Michael stopped in awe, and so did his comrades; it was the most magnificent sight they had seen yet—a statue of God, so perfect it was almost alive. It was a great bearded figure, wearing golden robes and holding a shining sword in both hands.
Its features were smooth, unbroken by wrinkles, its skin white, and every feature of the head was perfect, without the slightest flaw. It looked exactly like the face God had shown to Michael once before, on the day He called him to come and serve Him, and now the memory flooded back.
Michael remembered that God had told him that He would show His Face to those who served Him and that His Face was a mystery no human could ever truly know. Now, this statue gave them a glimpse of that divine perfection; it was so beautiful they couldn’t help feeling something stir within them.
It was as if their souls had been touched by the beauty of the Divine, and a shiver ran through all three angels’ bodies.
The three of them waited motionless until they saw a woman approaching the statue from one side and another man from the other. Both of them had the same appearance as the statues they wore, except that they carried small books in their hands instead of swords. One of them bent low as if to pick up a stone from the ground.
“It’s a trap,” Uriel whispered in a warning. “We must get out of here!” And they broke away from the others, rushing across the plaza toward a door set in the wall at its eastern end. As soon as they reached the threshold they felt themselves floating upward and away from the city.
Above, a wide-open blue sky shone with a brilliant light; below, the earth was far beneath them. They could see it only in patches as if looking down through a dark tunnel. The sun was setting, casting red glints over the land as they sped northward. Soon the hills of the Vale came into view ahead, and then the mountains beyond.
They landed gently on a hillside near where the three brothers were waiting. The demons stepped forward first, staring about them; then Michael followed, looking at the place in fascination. This was what it meant to be part of the world.
He had been born on the slopes of Mount Hermon, far above the valley floor; now he knew where he was in relation to everyone else: in the Vale itself, which lay between the high hills of the south and the snowcap of Mount Hermon. That mountain marked the southern boundary of the world.
To his left, the land rose gradually toward the peaks of the Rift Valley, then dropped away into the Great Salt Desert. From here Gabriel could see the green valleys of Nubia stretching away into the distance.
Beyond them, across the sea, he caught glimpses of the distant cities of Menes, Kush, and Sheba. But this was just the beginning—he could feel his curiosity rising.
“Where are we?” Michael asked.
Gabriel pointed eastward. “Somewhere beyond the Rift Mountains.”
“But how did you get us here? I thought we were following the priests—”
“We did,” Gabriel said. “I used my powers to guide them. You should have sensed their presence. When they came into contact with me, it brought us close enough to touch their minds. There was no reason why I shouldn’t do the same.”
Michael nodded slowly. The fact that God had sent him such an angel had changed his whole attitude toward his calling. Now he had begun to realize that he could use his gifts properly, rather than merely as a means of escape from Hell.
He smiled at Gabriel. “I owe you my life, brother.”
Gabriel returned the smile. “I’ll try not to let it go to waste.”
Michael turned to Urim and Utiel. “You heard our talk; you understand how important it is to us that God hears us.”
Both the demons nodded.
“Then I’m sure you’ll agree that this will be dangerous for all of us if we stay together. We need to split up, and each of us should go alone. If we can find the right words, perhaps we can persuade God to listen more closely.”
Uriah stared at Michael silently. His heart sank. Was Michael going against God’s plan? Perhaps God had told Himself—and Michael—that there would be time to speak privately later when everything was settled. Then Michael might explain that it was best if Uriel went away alone, and none of them spoke to God until all seven were gathered together again.
But Uriel wouldn’t hear of it. “No!” he snapped, turning to the others; they all turned in amazement at his vehemence, and at last, even Michael joined in the argument. “God wants all the angels assembled, so we’re coming back together! No one of us is going off without you!”
Gabriel turned to look at his brother, astonished. It was Uriel who always argued with Michael—who tried to break him down by insisting upon doing things differently from him. He could never have guessed that his twin cared about anyone but himself.
“All right,” Uriel said after a moment. “But don’t tell Father or the other chiefs—they’d have a fit.”
Michael looked relieved. He took a deep breath. “If any of us are to survive, we must keep moving.”
They started off toward the hills. After a while, they came to another group of caves. The priests were still there, sitting around the fires, watching the flames dance and burn. None of them showed signs of having noticed anything strange in the night, or in the day since.
The priests were glad to see Michael again. They crowded about him eagerly, pressing him to explain how he had come so far in so short a time; but they listened carefully to every word he said, trying to grasp its significance.
In turn, Michael explained the importance of Uriel’s presence among them; then, once they had understood, he urged them to follow the way he had suggested: “Go alone into the mountains. Find the right words and sing out loud in praise of God, or you won’t get a hearing.”
“And you?” someone asked. “Will you stay with us? We have some food stored, so we can go on for weeks before we starve.”
“Yes, I’ll wait until you’ve gone, because we need to make a decision.”
It seemed to take hours; they talked and argued late into the night, then ate and slept, and rose early the next morning to start again. But soon the air grew chillier, and the sun sank deeper and deeper beneath the horizon. As they moved farther north, they found patches of snow that melted only after the first few cold days—the beginning of winter.
The End