They Think I'm Crazy

Chapter 5

It was a couple weeks since I decided to hire a completely random homeless man I met on a New York City subway to help me preach an extremist interpretation of religion to an audience that would be less than receptive to such teachings. Against all odds, everything is actually going well.

Lucas, being homeless, is able to preach at times that I really can't. He's able to preach for lengths of time that I really can't. Knowing that he's out there preaching on my behalf, I can finally take one day a week and just not preach. It's nice to finally be able to wait on the subway platform like a normal person.

It gets even better! Lucas has finally been able to do what I couldn't; get converts. By the middle of this past week, he said he had four converts.

Now I haven't seen these converts for myself and am well aware that he may just be lying, but I don't care. The last time Uriel visited me, he had no idea about my progress until I told him. As an angel, I'm sure he has the ability to check for himself to see if I'm lying, but I suspect he won't. He didn't even want to keep track of the web traffic on that blog I created, something I would have been able to do. Besides, I wouldn't be the one who's lying. That's Lucas.

Since he's as much of a nonbeliever as I used to be, I really couldn't call Lucas himself a convert. Since I'm paying him to do this, I guess he would technically be my employee, but I prefer “apostle”. I'm teaching him after all, right? Jesus, who was the Great Prophet two thousand years ago, had his apostles. He had twelve. Shouldn't I have my own apostles too? I'll just have to screen them to make sure none of them will be selling me out to the Romans for gold.

Oh, who am I kidding? “Apostle” just sounds cooler, plus “apostles” don't have to be given annual raises and paid vacations, nor would an “apostle” go on strike or find another job. So that makes Lucas officially my apostle.

Which was definitely good, because I would need an apostle for the road ahead.

“Let me get an iced tea, please?”

It was my weekly I'm-Not-Preaching-On-The-Way-To-Work Day, and a wonderful day it was. Considering that it was Rafferty Financial that pays my bills and not Heaven, I think it was important to have a day where I can concentrate fully on that job. I figured I would stop drinking soda in the morning on account of the fact it was a very unhealthy drink. Too much high fructose corn syrup. I'm going to be going for the iced tea instead, since it has slightly less but still way too much high fructose corn syrup. You know, as the healthy alternative. I'm pretty sure this is why everyone in this country is so damn fat.

Unfortunately, one's responsibilities have a habit of catching up to you when you least expect it. Those responsibilities being supernatural in origin doesn't change that basic fact. Your boss yelling at you about some minor and easily fixable screw up while you're on your lunch break is just as much part of the working world as collecting your paycheck and losing your 401k. When you're the Great Prophet, having an angel pop in for a surprise visit during your morning commute is just as natural as the commute itself.

At least somewhere down the line that will be the case. It still freaks the hell out of me whenever Uriel pops up next to me. This time, he did it when the man behind the counter of the newspaper stand in the subway was handing me my change.

“Jesus!” I yelled, startled at Uriel's presence beside me. Most of the people waiting for the train looked towards my feet. I think they were expecting there to be a rat running around. The newsstand owner was looking at his counter, presumably assuming that there was a cockroach there that scared the crap out of me.

Uriel chuckled. “Flattered as I may be, Great Prophet, I would aim a little lower if I were you. It's just me, the Fourth Archangel that no one's ever heard of and who isn't in any parts of the Bible.”

I rolled my eyes. “Are you really still hung up on that?”

Uriel shrugged his shoulders. “It's very rare that we angels ever contact humans directly. Humanity has always held angels in the highest regards, their reverence and awe of us second only to that of the Lord. So I come to the Great Prophet and what does he say to me? 'I've never heard of you'. Not very encouraging, especially when it's a human saying that to an angel.”

I looked at Uriel. He was casually leaning against the newsstand, looking everywhere but at me. It's funny. When I first saw him, I was in awe of his majesty and presence. But now, leaning against the newsstand and whining like a neglected housewife, he seemed more human to me than angel. Heavenly, yet down to earth. A walking contradiction. And a whiny one at that.

“So what brought this on?” I asked dryly.

“Oh nothing. The fact that you keep mixing me up for the more.......'important' members of the Heavenly bureaucracy has nothing to do with it.” Uriel did the quotation sign with his fingers as he said the word “important”, deliberately overemphasizing the word. Someone really woke up on the wrong side of the cloud this morning.

“Uriel, it's an expression. Things like 'Jesus' and 'Oh my God' are just things we humans say when we're surprised,” I told him. “Maybe you should stop scaring the crap out of me and then I'll start our conversations off with a 'Hello, Uriel' instead of a 'Jesus'.”

“Forget it. We have more important matters to discuss,” replied Uriel dismissively.

“Fine, I'm sorry you picked someone who's never read the Bible to be the Great Prophet,” I said, exasperated. “Happy now?”

“Let's change the subject,” said Uriel. His tone gave me the impression that he meant business, so I was happy to do what he said and let the subject drop.

A part of me is pretty surprised that I was so willing to talk to an angel from Heaven in such a manner, but like I said before, it didn't feel like I was talking to an angel this time around. It felt like I was talking to a normal human being. Frankly, I don't think Uriel was really good at being either.

Judging by the rather awkward and uncomfortable expression on the newsstand owner's face, I'd say being discreet was another thing Uriel wasn't particularly good at. He just manifested himself in front of the entire subway platform!

“Alright, Uriel, instead let's talk about how angels never appear to humans,” I said, turning to him. A slight smile appeared on my face. The stupid angel just changed the nature of human spirituality forever by appearing in front of a crowd of people! No doubt his mistake would cost him dearly, but that wasn't my problem. Either my stint as the Great Prophet was over, or I was going to be taken a lot more seriously.

Is it sad that when faced by the fact that I may be a key figure in an upcoming spiritual and philosophical revolution that would change the course of the human condition forever, the only thing I could think of is that I would finally get to ride the subway in peace?

“We rarely appear to humans,” Uriel corrected. “It does happen on occasion. Such as the one who appeared to Philip and told him to go--”

“Right, right, right. I got it,” I interrupted. I could care less where one of his friends told Philip to go. “But when you do, there's usually some degree of subtlety involved, right?”

“Of course. Subtlety is of the utmost importance,” answered Uriel, not realizing the wonderful irony behind every single word.

“You only appear in front of certain people, right? Never just a bunch of random people?”

“No, absolutely not.” Oh how I'm loving this right now. “For example, when an angel appeared before Paul, he took care not to appear before his crew--”

“Yes, Uriel, I got it. So you only appear to certain people? Never a crowd of onlookers?” I asked.

“That is correct.”

I motioned over to the train platform, where people were staring at him. Some people were nervously shifting their glances away from him. I'm not sure anyone really knew how to act. How would you react if you and everyone else in a crowd saw proof of the divine? To everyone's credit, they held up better than I did, that's for sure.

Uriel looked at the crowd, then looked at me, his expression puzzled.

“Uriel, you realize what you've done, right?” I asked, motioning with my eyes back to the crowd.

Uriel shook his head. I gestured to newsstand owner, who surprisingly looked more uncomfortable than afraid.

“This man can see you. These people can see you,” I explained to the angel. “You just appeared in front of everybody on the subway!”

Uriel's eyes went wide. His skin color didn't turn red or pale like a human's would, so I could only guess that angel's don't have blood. In an instant, he was facing the crowd. He quickly turned his head to the newsstand owner, then to the crowd, then to me. Back to the crowd, then back to me.

And then he sighed in relief.

“Oh my, please don't ever scare me like that again,” he said, chuckling. He put his hands on his hips and looked down at the ground, shaking his head with a grin plastered over his face as if he just said something stupid and realized it immediately afterward.

“What are you talking about, Uriel?” I exclaimed. “Everyone can see you. It looks like you're not going to need me to preach for you. I think--”

“Oh, we still need you,” interrupted Uriel, still grinning. “There's no way an angel would ever do the work of the Great Prophet. Besides, that would require humans to be aware of the presence of angels. Aware not just spiritually as they used to be, but as aware of angels as they are each other.”

“But they are aware of your presence!” I argued. God, how freaking stupid can Your angels be!? “You're standing right in front of them.”

Uriel chuckled again, then put his hand on my shoulder. “No, Jack, worry not. They don't perceive me in the way that you do.”

I felt a slight twinge in my stomach. “W-what are you talking about?”

“No one can hear me or see me but you,” said Uriel.

Suddenly I felt like I had been punched in the gut a half hour ago and was still in pain. My stomach wrenched, my face turned beet red (unlike the angel, I do have blood and every drop of it was now in my face). I glanced at the newsstand owner before turning to the crowd. Now New Yorkers are normally experts at ignoring crazy people on the subway screaming at their imaginary friends. But I must have been putting on quite a show, because people looked really uncomfortable. Perhaps because I was staring directly at them and had just been pointing at them and loudly referencing them in my conversation with my invisible partner. Some people started playing with their phones, other people shifted their attention between me and the tracks. Now their reactions made a bit more sense. Their lack of spiritual awe could definitely be forgiven.

One moment I was there on the platform, then the next I was headed back upstairs to take a different train. I walked as fast as my legs could take me, my suit sticking to my body due to all the sweat. I couldn't be down there anymore, I just couldn't! I had never been so humiliated in my life, and considering the fact that I'm a street preacher, that's really saying something.

The train was empty, thankfully. It was at its last stop, waiting for the next conductor to take over and begin its route again. I didn't care about the fact that it would take me out of my way and that I might be a little late for work. I just had to get away from all those people who would no doubt have an interesting story for their coworkers this morning. But more than anything, I just wanted to get away from--

“Uriel!” I exclaimed. The angel was standing in the train, alone, waiting for me.

I stomped over to him, enraged. “Uriel, what the f**k!? What the goddamned flying son a f*****g f**k is wrong with you!?”

Uriel stared at me, undeterred by incoherent ranting.

“Ephesians 4:29,” was all he said.

I spread my arms, signaling to him that I had no idea what I meant. My facial expression simultaneously conveyed that frustrated confusion and unbridled anger.

 

“Let no corrupt communication proceed out of your mouth, but that which is good to the use of edifying, that it may minister grace unto the hearers,” he recited.

“What the f*****g f**k are you talking about!?”

“It means don't curse.”

I screamed in rage, smacking a metal pole with the back of my hand. Then I screamed in pain, clutching my injured hand.

“Mohammad told his followers that the strong believer was better than the weak believer in the eyes of God,” added Uriel. He shrugged his shoulders. “He was talking about devotion to Allah, but I guess physical health also applies. A healthy believer is better than an injured one.”

“Uriel, what the hell was that on the platform?” I snarled angrily. “You humiliated me in front of everyone!”

“Oh boo hoo. Do you know how embarrassing it was serving in the Celestial Army during the war against the Devil?” he asked. “I was charging the Devil, and he defeated me by sticking my foot out and tripping me! He tripped me! Next thing I know, the oh-so-wonderful 'spiritual warrior' Michael has Lucifer begging for mercy beneath his feet and all the angels think I'm a prissy little wuss!”

“What does that have to do with anything!?” I cried.

“It means the world doesn't revolve around you,” replied Uriel coldly. “So shut up and do your job.”

I felt my face go red with anger. Well, I guess it went redder with more anger because I was already pissed.

“Just shut up and do my job!?” I shouted back. “It's goddamned impossible! All I do is stand there and shout at people to follow these obscure, nonsensical rules! You want me to get all these people to suddenly become believers and love God, but there's no way I can do it!”

Uriel raised an eyebrow. “Really,” he muttered dryly.

“It's absolutely f*****g humiliating standing in front of these people shouting like a madman!” I continued. “And you making it look like I'm talking to myself certainly didn't help at all! All those people thought I was crazy!”

Uriel just looked at me coldly, then looked down at the ground. He was clearly choosing his words carefully. It was scary to realize that an angel from Heaven was so angry at me personally that he actually had to stop and restrain himself from saying something he would regret. Perhaps I should have shown that same restraint.

“Sit,” he spat harshly. I obeyed promptly, though I did so with the attitude of a sixteen year old being told that he has to start doing chores.

He stepped over to the seat across from me�"shambled over there, I'd almost say�"and sat down. He sighed heavily, then looked me in the eye.

“You really think you have it that hard, don't you?” he asked. “The poor Great Prophet is having a difficult time dealing with a little embarrassment? Are we asking too much of you to teach people about the Lord who breathed life into the universe? Is being the Great Prophet too hard? Well let me tell you about previous Great Prophets.”

“Have you ever heard of Ezra the Scribe? He lived almost five hundred years before Jesus died on the cross,” continued Uriel. “He was one of the many Babylonian exiles, Jews exiled to Babylon from the Kingdom of Judah. Do you know what he did? He took the Jews living there in captivity and led them back to Jerusalem, where he reintroduced the Torah. When he found that Jewish men had been marrying non-Jewish women, he he worked to ensure that those marriages were dissolved so the community could be purified. Despite great opposition from his own people, he finally succeeded. You may complain about people ignoring you on the subway, but Ezra faced true opposition, even violence and the threat of death. And not once did he ever back down from his duties as the Great Prophet.”

“Wait, what about the sanctity of--”

“And Isaiah. The Great Prophet Isaiah. Did he ever complain to me when Assyria invaded Israel after his king, Hezekiah, entered an alliance with Egypt?” Uriel continued, not missing a beat. “No, he didn't complain to me. At my behest, he went to his king and told him to stand firm against the Assyrian empire. He was responsible for his kingdom having the will and morale to resist the tyranny, and with God on his side, he stood tall in the face of 180,000 Assyrian troops. I'm sure he would have no problem against a small group of apathetic mass transit passengers.”

“Joseph was plotted against by his brothers. They decided at the last minute before killing him to instead sell him into slavery for twenty pieces of silver. But he was granted the power of prophecy by the Almighty, and with good morals and strong devotion to the Lord became the right hand of the Egyptian Pharaoh. Mohammad overcame persecution from the Meccan tribes that forced him to flee to Medina to unite 10,000 followers who he led in the conquest of Mecca. And I should hope I don't have to tell you how the Son, Christ himself, allowed himself to suffer and die on behalf of humanity and all its sin.”

“You see, Jack, your predecessors were all called to service to the Lord just like you were,” continued Uriel. He never took his eyes off of mine, and he was clearly not in the mood for any nonsense. “You think they didn't have lives? Families? Obligations? Of course they did, but this is so much bigger than any of that. The machinations of God are greater than the needs of a single man. They all made greater sacrifices to advance the human race towards spiritual salvation.”

I'm sorry, but the angel had lost me at the part where Ezra dissolving marriages was a good thing. I wasn't going to argue, though. Mainly because it was an argument that was already lost before it began.

“Previous Great Prophets have faced persecution and violence. Slavery, torture, death. They've influenced political, military, and religious leaders, inspired the masses, and led armies. What have you done, Mr. Dufraine? Better yet, what would you do? If not devoting your life to the Lord, to His laws and His will, to the very philosophies that can create one nation and tear down another, then what would your purpose in life be?”

Ah, the old “purpose” question again. I can safely say that I've given it almost zero thought since I became the Great Prophet. Perhaps this is my purpose in life and I just haven't embraced it yet. Being God's messenger on Earth is pretty important, right? But there has to be more to being the Great Prophet than subway preaching. All those previous prophets shaped the very world we live in today; without them, society as we know it may not even exist. So what was I supposed to do?

“I don't know Uriel,” I answered slowly. “I don't know.”

“I didn't think so,” replied Uriel. “Are we done with this nonsense?”

“Just one more thing,” I asked. “Why me? Why was I chosen for all this?”

Uriel shrugged his shoulders.

“Wait, that's it? Just this?” I asked, imitating his shrug. “I ask you why God chose me to be the Great Prophet, and that's your answer?”

“I don't know why you were chosen, Jack.”

“There are millions of devout, pious, God-fearing people out there. You didn't think it weird when God chose an atheist to spread his message?”

“Oh, of course I thought it was weird. Totally bizarre,” answered Uriel. He shrugged again. I just don't think he really cared. “But you know, the Lord works in mysterious ways.”

“And what did the Lord say to you when He chose me?” I asked incredulously.

“What? Oh I've never met the Almighty.”

“What!?”

“Does that surprise you?”

I nodded. “Uh, yeah! You work for Him! How could you possibly work for Him and have never met Him before!?”

Uriel leaned back in his seat. “Well, Jack, who do you work for?”

Suddenly, I realized that I couldn't name the CEO of Rafferty Financial if my life depended on it. I had no idea what he even looked like or if the it even was a “he”.

“Good point,” I conceded. “So who told you to come to Earth and have me do all this?”

“Gabriel,” answered Uriel, the word escaping from his mouth with nothing but utter disgust behind it.

“You sound bitter,” I commented.

“Gabriel is the Lord's favorite Archangel, the highest in the Heavenly Hierarchy below Allah himself,” said Uriel. “Of the four Archangels, I am the lowest. God even directed Gabriel to introduce the Koran to Mohammad, yet I am stuck dealing with the prophets and messengers and just everything else related to humans in general.”

“Sorry to be such an inconvenience.”

“For the longest time, only Gabriel had the honor of directly hearing His wondrous voice. Of course, when Michael defeated the Devil in combat, he was given that honor as well. Raphael and I are stuck dealing with those pricks as intermediaries between us and Jehova,” continued Uriel, ignoring my comment. “The three of them are my immediate superiors. Though half the time they delegate all the actual work to me. To be frank, I don't think Gabe and Mike really know what they are doing.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Oh, don't ever tell them I called them 'Gabe' and 'Mike'. That's what the other angels call them when they're not around, amongst other things,” he added quickly. “We're supposed to regard them with the highest respect. Which we do, when they're around.”

“It sounds like Heaven is just one big bureaucracy,” I noted.

He nodded his head slowly. “Well, that's because it is. And to be frank, a lot of the time it's not really an efficient one at that.”

“What bureaucracy is?”

“The Father makes all sorts of bullshit rules for us to follow, and He expects results,” he continued. “Don't get me wrong. He is the Lord and we respect and follow all His sacred laws to the letter, and we know that in His infinite wisdom there are no bad divine laws. I just wish that sometime He would explain them better. And that He would reveal Himself to the rest of the angels and not just Gabe and Mike.”

Uriel sighed heavily, looking fatigued. Again, I felt such a strange feeling of humanity resonating from the supernatural being, completely at odds from the divine aura that usually surrounded him. And I couldn't help but feel a little closer to him now. I didn't really like him, but I could definitely feel sympathy for him despite the disparity between our very existences.

He pulled himself to his feet.

“Well, I'd better be off then. Important matters to attend to in Heaven,” he said.

“Off to sit on a cloud and play the harp until it's time to bust my chops again?” I asked jokingly. It's nice that I feel chummy enough with an angel from Heaven to joke around with him like's he's my buddy or something.

He apparently didn't get the joke, because he looked at me like I just asked him if he had some plastic I could stick in my ear. “No,” he said. He muttered something else under his breath, but didn't have anything else to say to me.

Yeah, we definitely weren't buddies.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” exclaimed Uriel. “Converts! How are we doing on that? Please tell me you have more than zero.”

“No, actually. I got four converts for you, Uriel,” I said, surprisingly perked about it considering the fact that he wants those converts way more than I do.

Uriel didn't share my enthusiasm. I figured that when he rolled his eyes at me. Ungrateful b*****d.

“I did get myself an apostle,” I added, hopeful that that would be enough to placate him.

His expression turned thoughtful for a moment, and he cocked his head sideways a little. “An apostle?”

“Yup. An apostle. Just like Jesus.”

Uriel nodded his head ever so slightly. “Interesting. He was the only other Great Prophet to have apostles. One of them sold him out to the Romans, you know.”

“Yeah, but didn't he know about it and go through with it anyway?” I asked. “If I find out my apostle is going to sell me out like that, I'll kick his sorry a*s to the curb.”

“How Christ-like of you,” scoffed the angel. “But tell me, what's the difference between an apostle and a convert?”

Really? Is the angel really asking me this question? “Well, a convert is someone that you convinced to....convert. You know, you present your case to someone who doesn't believe in God and then they believe in God. With an apostle, it's more like, well, a teaching assistant. A confidante who is also knowledgeable about the teachings and will help you go out and teach and gain more converts.”

“Mm-hmm, someone who knows all about the laws of God and is charismatic enough to inspire the masses. And you managed to get someone like this on your side?” he inquired sarcastically. Nothing in Hell, Heaven, or Earth can make this angel happy, can it?

“Yes, Uriel, yes I did,” I said defiantly. Hey, hiring someone to be my apostle still counts as getting an apostle. And I am the only other Great Prophet other than Jesus Christ himself to have apostles. You'd think that counts for something, wouldn't you? Of course not. That would be too goddamned easy.

Uriel shook his head. “Goodbye, Jack. I'll check up on you again soon.” With that, he walked towards the train door. Pausing for a moment, he turned back toward me. “Jack, every Great Prophet before you has changed the course of human history. Don't just be called the Great Prophet. Be the Great Prophet.”

He left, presumably already back in Heaven by the time my hand reached up to massage my temples.

Damn it, what the hell does God want from me? Be the Great Prophet? What is the Great Prophet? Change the course of human history? From what to what?

So much work put in, yet it's never enough. I make progress towards my impossible-to-meet goals, and I'm scolded for not making progress fast enough. When the task I am given becomes impossible to complete, I am told that I actually have it easy. And all the while, I am spoken down to like freaking gutter trash; like I am at the bottom and should shut up and know my place.

I was agitated, stressed out, and pissed off, but I wasn't afraid. No, I wasn't and I don't think I would ever be. Some of those who were more deserving and qualified to be a messenger of God might be afraid to do His holy work, but I was not. Because it all felt so familiar to me, like I had always been doing what I've been doing as the Great Prophet long before Uriel ever appeared to me. It didn't feel right, just familiar.

The train doors closed and the train took off. I was alone in the car. As I headed for Rafferty Financial, I felt like l was headed into familiar territory.

I would be agitated, stressed out, and pissed off, but I would not be afraid.