Archangels
by Carol Wasserman

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HOST: When tragedy comes -- we look for reasons, for meaning, for hope. Writer Carol Wasserman found all of those in her hometown of Wareham Massachusetts... in an unlikely place.

I was standing in a long line at the A&P last week. The young guy in front of me, dressed in remarkably filthy mechanic's overalls, pointed to a help wanted sign in the window, and told me that he was out of work. But that he wasn't worried, and had didn't have to go around filling out any more applications, because he'd be starting a new job soon. This skinny, scruffy, prematurely toothless kid told me he was going to be an archangel

"That is a grand ambition," I said.

"No kidding," he said. "An archangel. Not a regular angel. Archangels get wings of gold."

He told me they had openings for the kind of entry-level angels who are issued regulation wings of white. But there was a box on the form, which he had checked, for anyone who thought they would prefer the wings of gold.

He was sure he'd get the job. He said they were doing a lot of hiring.

He was so sure of it, in fact, that he'd been practicing at home. In order to be ready for his first assignment, he had started staying up all night. Because Lucifer - the old enemy - had begun appearing in the driveway, after everyone else in the neighborhood was asleep. Which was proof, as far as he was concerned, that his archangel orders were in the mail.

"I've chased Lucifer away five times," he said, "and I think that's going to make me look good."

He seemed like a sweet guy. Delusional but harmless. Not necessarily angel material, in my opinion. But what do I know. Until quite recently we thought of angels as physically beautiful creatures who enjoyed dancing together on the head of a pin. Then Dr. Freud suggested that angels are nothing more than projections of our own anxieties. Which caused us to radically lower our expectations of what angels might look like, standing in line in front of us at the grocery store.

I remember saying, "If you get the job, will you fly over my house, just once, on your way to work?" And he promised me that he would. All that was last week.

Today everything seems disordered and unreal.

Except for my sudden decision to believe that there are in fact recently recruited arch angels reporting in for work. That when they show up for orientation they are amazed to see the place packed with new hires. Even if some of them are only temps. I think about my dismissive reaction there in the A & P to the scruffy guy ahead of me in line.

But now I've seen the flames. The grinding sorrow. I have seen the enemy. And I can see that he has been busy doing his own hiring.

In any event, I will fear no evil. Because I have reason to believe that overhead, unseen, there are battalions of archangels, fanning out over our troubled, sorrowing planet, intent on getting down to the serious business of chasing off the Prince of Darkness.

About Carol Wasserman
Carol Wasserman is a regular commentator for WCAI/WNAN and "All Things Considered." She is an editor at Transom.org.

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