Angel Talk
THOUGHTS of a: PAVE-the-WAY-ANGEL
I am floating on Cloud Nine as I look down at planet Earth.
"Fellow Americans, I've just been told by Stellar Operations that we've got ninety days to live," Barry King announces on television. "On May six, a new and rare super magnetic comet will hit Bermuda. Will we be wiped out? How many of us will survive?"
I, Angel Agapanthus, laugh at what Barry declares. Destroying planets and their populations is a fantasy. It would mean the end of angels in heaven! In our divine kingdom, where there are no boundaries, we angels know that Lord God has no intention of wiping out people on any planet! God loves angels.
"What are you going to do," Barry says, "with your last ninety days?" He leans toward the camera. "Fellow Americans, experts from Stellar Operations will explain it all tonight! I urge everyone to watch my show. I promise it will be mind-blowing."
I, Angel Agapanthus, sigh. On planet Earth learned men say that what happens here in heaven does not really exist. It is a mistake to believe in angels. That believing is not a guarantee that we exist in reality. They say that belief is thicker than critical thinking.—I take a cloud cushion and lean on it to be more comfortable—Earthlings . . . I know that I am not a mind without form. I am not an ethereal breath. I have a human shape. I confirm that I can see, hear, and feel. And that heaven has no boundaries. Only foolish people doubt this.
I look down. In Brazil a priest, holding a huge cross, shouts: Will the sun and the moon be darkened? Will the stars fall from the sky and the planets shake? I shake my head. Was it Jeremiah the herald who gave air to this nonsense?
I turn toward New York City. I see swarms of loony earthlings at the United Nations. They are running amok, like ants! In frenzy they call airlines to book reservations to their countries. Ooh . . . look at what's going on at Wall Street! Directors at the most prestigious investment firm say that paper money will be worthless. Buy gold and silver. An earthling yells that there's no business without electricity so buy electric companies. Others shout that when computers are dead we'll be back to zero: the Stone Age. A savvy earthling flips a switch and all is dark. He yells that this is just a sample of what's in store.
I, Angel Agapanthus, smile. We in heaven know that Lord God loves angels. I'll take a nap until it's time to watch the Barry show. I wet my lips—it should be illuminating . . .
IT IS SHOW TIME
From Cloud Nine, I, Angel Agapanthus, tune in and see that around the globe TV screens blink like Christmas lights. It's a very pretty sight.
Barry King faces the camera. He wears my favorite blue shirt with white collar and a sublime navy tie with yellow stars. On the screen behind him are posted twelve telephone lines: on the left six for America, and on the right six for other countries. "Fellow Americans," he says in a grave voice, "and fellow earthlings! Tonight my show will run for three hours. Give us a ring and we'll answer questions." He turns to a panel of men.
"These Stellar Operations experts, Frank, John and Charles, will explain what to expect on May six when this new-begotten comet will hit Bermuda. I've been told that most of the human race will likely be wiped out. Frank," he addresses the young guy with a crew cut, "what exactly is a rare super magnetic comet. Can you say it in plain English?"
"This unheard-of comet is super new," says Frank, "though comets have been around for ages. The Chinese have produced annals going back for a long time. They regarded them with suspicion."
"So, what's new, folk?" Barry interrupts. "Our forefathers already mistrusted comets."
Frank swallows; his Adam's apple moves prominently. "Ancient people associated plague, famine and war with comets when they appeared in the sky. In Roman times the philosopher Seneca regarded them as true celestial bodies. Others guessed that comets were atmospheric exhalations." Frank's nostrils quiver—like a bunny. "Thanks to a 16thcentury Danish astronomer by the name of Tycho Brahe it was established that comets are more remote than the moon, and therefore must be regarded as heavenly bodies. So . . . a comet is a heavenly body consisting of gasses and a solid block, about half a kilometer in diameter, revolving around the sun. And while it sweeps across the skies it produces a tail, sometimes even two or more. In Asia a comet is called a besom star because the tail resembles a sweeping broom as the comet moves across the constellations." Frank wets his lips. "Meteor swarms, also known as shooting stars, are regarded as a comet's offspring. John,"—he nods at his colleague—"how about telling them out there what this huge super cannon ball is going to do to Bermuda?"
John, middle-aged and chubby, stares at the camera. He now has the task to tell the truth in plain English. He clears his throat. His hazel eyes narrow when he says in a throaty voice: "This huge cannon ball will land on Bermuda with a big bang!" His fist hits the air. "Bermuda will be squashed to the bottom of the ocean floor." He takes a deep breath. "Like mountains, walls of water will move across the Atlantic Ocean. Coastal areas will sink. Mountain tops, like those of Appalachia, will become islands. Western Europe, Ireland and England will be run over by water as if the Mongol army has laid waste to everything. Disaster is the name." He stops; perspiration hugs his upper lip. "Except for countries like Norway, the Pyrenees, the Alps, the Caucasus, Himalayas, and so on, mountain ranges will become islands . . . chains of islands!" John takes a deep breath, then whispers: "It reminds me of the story of Atlantis, a Greek island that disappeared mysteriously."
"Atlantis became famous," Charles shouts as he cranes his neck toward the camera, "because according to legend it was consumed by fire. It was a volcanic eruption, and the ashes were blown to the four corners of the earth."
"Fearful prediction; I'm scared of fire," Barry says, clasping his hands.
Looking straight into the camera, Charles says in a firm voice: "Marie Curie said that nothing in life is to be feared, it is only to be understood."
"In that case," Barry says, "people living on mountains have a chance to live." He turns around and points toward the screen. "The first caller to ask a question is from Bermuda."
"Hello!" An agitated voice emanates from the screen. "I'm Joseph Adam of the Bermuda weather channel. We are petrified hearing what's in store for us, if indeed,"—Joseph swallows audibly—"this new-begotten rare super magnetic cannon ball will destroy us in ninety days. You experts predict we'll not sink but . . . we'll be ashed . . . incinerated like those of Atlantis?"
"Brimstones from the skies!" Frank shouts; his Adam's apple jumps up and down like a yo-yo. "Sodom and Gomorrah were wiped from the map!"
"Frank," Charles says, "that was an act of God."
I, Angel Agapanthus, fold my hands; knowing this to be true. Those unsavory Sodomites had to be wiped out.
"I think"—Frank sniffles—"Bermuda may be Armageddon."
"Nonsense," John says, nodding at Barry.
"Next caller," Barry orders.
Across the screen a message tells the viewers that riots have begun; people everywhere hoarding food. Looters enter supermarkets gunning down anyone in their way.
"Hello! I'm Joe Stone, a realtor in Hawaii. I predict that treatises between countries will be nullified when people grab land. I urge those who can afford it to settle in the Swiss Alps. Mount Ararat will be a safe place; Noah landed there. In Africa, Kilimanjaro, the highest mountain, will be a good idea for those with fewer funds. And take your fur coat along when you move to the Himalayas!"
Across the screen a message informs that people on starvation diets to stay slim and healthy are now binging on ice cream, chocolates, vodka and vino—anything that makes them feel happy! Credit card orders are having a hay-day.
"Hello! India calling! I am Dupak, a scientist. It is possible that this new-begotten comet may bypass our planet and circle between Earth and Mercury. This could mean a nuclear winter. Tropical zones will have four seasons. Our motto for survival will be: Adapt or die."
The Stellar Operations experts nod their heads vigorously.
"Hello! I am James Hall, a journalist presently living in Wellington, New Zealand. A friend in Austin, Texas wrote me that astronomers often predict events using their imagination, and that this new-begotten comet is one of those fantastic ideas. Charles, I would like your input."
Charles folds his hands. "Speculation has always been the bread and butter of scientists," he says, cracking his knuckles. "Galileo started rolling the ball."
"The church fathers put the kibosh on poor Galileo!" Barry shouts.
I, Angel Agapanthus, know that scientists like to speculate so people fear the unknown. A good dose of fear makes them slaves of rules made up by prophets and rulers.
"Hello, you experts! I am Emily and live in the Bible belt. My good book teaches that repentance and forgiveness of sins will be preached in the name of Jesus to all nations beginning at Jerusalem. And then the end will come!"
Barry looks at the experts for input. In unison they bow their heads and fold their hands.
The phone rings.
"Hi! I'm Shurli Schmit in Salt Lake City, Utah. Men of doom and gloom have always shouted from the rooftops that the end is coming and that it will be violent. There will be no destruction of our planet Earth, believe me! Once Israel rules as a distinct nation everyone . . . yes everyone will go to heaven peacefully."
"Everyone will go," Frank shouts, "because our universe is infinite!"
"It is constantly expanding," John says with a nod.
"In that case,"—Barry sits up straight—"where in our constantly expanding, infinite universe is heaven located?"
"The body does not die," Charles says. He points toward the screen. "There's only an exchange of atoms: from dust to dust. Nothing is born and nothing is dead." He looks straight into the camera when he proclaims: "From the beginning of time we have been star dust!"
I, Angel Agapanthus, afloat on Cloud Nine, sigh why earthlings ponder that on December 25 Christians celebrate the birth of Jesus the Messiah while Jews are still waiting for the Messiah to appear in Jerusalem. Plato had said that the man who invented God was a wise man? Gosh, what you expect from that pagan! I roll my eyes . . . because the inhabitants of planet Earth are debating whether religion is fiction or non-fiction! Someone whispers the name Erasmus of Rotterdam who famously proposed that . . . religion is the cult of the invisible.
As I keep floating on Cloud Nine, I, Angel Agapanthus, smile . . . because I now know that with all earthlings everything is attitude.
I'm letting you in on a secret:
Yes, I, Angel Agapanthus . . .
I am a trail-blazer!
HEAVEN HAS NO BOUNDARIES !
TAKE THE UNIVERSE ITSELF AS GOD
and
THERE IS NO DENYING GOD !