Angels or Demons?
[a short story of sorts]
We were sitting on my backyard deck in mid August, drinking beer, relaxing, laughing and having a general good time, Peter, Jonathan, and I. We tried not to think about the fact that in one week school would resume for the fall semester. We all taught at a small Christian college in the Midwest, St. Thomas Catholic, or STC. The students called it a small Christian college for small Christians, of course. Or sometimes they referred to it as a college long on Jesus, short on cash, especially when the tuition got raised significantly each year. A student did not have to be Catholic to study there, but he or she was required to attend Mass twice a week regardless. Like the Israelites in the desert, they grumbled, but they went. Seats were assigned, attendance was taken. Peter, Jon and I were Catholic though we agreed that Mass should be a matter of faith and choice and not a requirement. STC also required 6 hours of religious studies which amounted to 2 out of 3 courses.
As teachers, Peter, Peter Grant was theology and philosophy, Jonathan Westwood was foreign language, Spanish and Latin, and I was an English literature teacher, primarily Renaissance, specializing in Shakespeare, Spenser, and the so-called Metaphysical poets, especially Donne and Herbert. All three of us were also required to teach general studies courses, part of what was called the “core moral and theological curriculum.” We taught in the senior requirement course called simply, “Christianity and Contemporary Culture.”
Sitting on the deck that night we had watched the sun set and the stars emerge as the light faded. The planet Venus was the first celestial body to appear though the sky was somewhat cloudy, keeping the lesser lights hidden, the stars that is. Peter, mostly bald and heavyset, said suddenly, “Have either of you guys ever had a real supernatural encounter? One that you couldn’t account for rationally?” He paused to take a sip from his beer mug.
Jonathan quickly asked, “What do you mean? Are you talking about God here? Angels? Or what?”
“Not necessarily God,” said Peter. “Though I was thinking about an experience I had about ten years ago which I usually don’t like to talk about, but I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately.” Peter was 52, an easygoing person not given to fanciful tales. He did have a fine sense of humor.
“Well,” I said, “are you going to explain what you mean or just leave us in suspense?”
Peter took another drink from his mug, and began his story. “It was an early fall, and evening had come on quickly. I had gone for a drive in the country that afternoon to enjoy the fall leaves that had turned colors brilliantly that year. Especially the reds and yellows. I was down in southern Ohio following back roads and not paying too much attention to where I was geographically, so to speak. Evening had come on and I was trying to find my way back to a main highway when I hit a slick spot on the road. My car skidded off the road and turned upside down into a fast flowing large stream that ran beside the road. It was dark, the water was cold and rushing into the car, and I couldn’t get the seatbelt to open. I thought surely I was going to drown.”
“Obviously you didn’t,” I said. “How did you get out?”
“That’s the thing,” said Peter. “I had help. Just as I thought I was done for, a young man with a somewhat luminescent face showed up beside my window. He said, “Let me help you,” then he yanked the door open, reached in and popped open my seat belt; he pulled me out so that I was standing in water up to my knees and leaning against the body of the car. I turned around to thank him, but there was no one there. Five seconds. I turned and there was no one there. I waded to the bank and climbed out onto the road, but he had simply vanished. There was no one present to thank, except God, I suppose, but the young man who had saved my life was nowhere to be found. He had simply vanished.”
Jon and I were both quiet. Finally Jon said, “What happened next? How did you get to town?”
“An old farmer was driving his truck down that road. He stopped and picked me up. Didn’t even mind about my wet clothes on his seat. He drove me into town, told me exactly where we were, and I got the car pulled out the next day.”
“Are you sure there was a young man there?” I asked. “Maybe you were in shock from the accident and just imagined the guy.”
“I’ve thought about the experience a lot. I saw his face clearly. It was slightly luminescent and as clear as you are now, as I said. At least I think it was. And he was strong. I also heard him speak remember. I think he must have been an Angel of some sorts. I don’t know how else to understand my rescue. I would have drowned without his help!”
“Well,” said Jon, “let us drink to this good fellow, Angel, whatever.”
“Here here,” I said, and we all picked up our mugs and toasted the fellow, whoever he was.
Pete skooched around in his chair trying to get his rather ample butt into a more comfortable position. He looked at Jon and me. “Do either of you have a comparable experience? Surely one of you must have had some kind of supernatural encounter sometime, eh?”
Jonathan leaned forward a bit in his chair and shuffled his feet on the deck. He was 43 and had been at STC the longest. He had a full head of dark hair and a two or three day dark beard, the kind I always envied. He coughed into his hand and cleared his throat. “I’m not sure this counts,” he said, “but I had an unusual experience not too long ago. I’m not sure it counts as supernatural, but it was somewhat uncanny, if you know what I mean.”
“I know what uncanny means,” I said, “but tell us your experience and we’ll see.”
“Okay. I was driving south on the interstate just at sunset. I glanced to my right to look at the sun as it was one of those beautiful swirling orange sunsets, with the sun magnified near the horizon and lighting up the low clouds on either side. I drove down my exit ramp to take the left turn into town. That road runs east/west. There’s a traffic light at the road, as you both know. Since I had a red light, I stopped and looked again to the west where the sun seemed to be sitting at the end of that road. It was still the swirling orange brightness I had seen before, though this time the sun looked like the head of a flaming angelic being with burning arms holding the world. Moreover, for a moment there seemed to be three sets of eyes looking right at me.
“Suddenly a car behind me honked, jerking me out of my celestial reverie, so to speak. Instead of turning left into town, I turned right out into the country toward the setting sun. I saw no more eyes as it sank below the horizon, but I had driven about a half a mile when I saw a dark shape in the ditch on the left side of the road. It looked like a dog. I pulled the car into the next driveway and turned around and stopped beside the creature, a dog. As I got out and walked around the car, I saw him wag his tail. Two thumps! Thank God he was alive, but he must have been hit by a car, for there was blood on his side and head and he had a broken hind leg. I put a blanket down on the front seat, and as gently as I could, I lifted him out of the ditch and put him down on the blanket. I drove him to the vets, left him overnight and picked him up the next evening. He’s been with me ever since, and he’s the best dog I’ve ever had. You all know him. That’s how I got him. Called him Gabe, after the Angel, though he is just a big goofy mutt.
“I know the sun is the sun,” he said, picking up his mug and taking a long pull, “but if I hadn’t seen eyes I don’t think I would have turned right and I wouldn’t have found my dog. My imagination may have been playing tricks on me, I don’t know but I think the whole experience counts as uncanny.”
Pete and I chuckled and said we’d let him count it.
“Well thanks “ he said, then added, “Except for the vet’s bill which came to 500 dollars or something close to that. Not unreasonable considering all the injuries, but in the long run he was worth it. A real gift.”
END PART 1; SEE PART 2
for continuation and conclusion
LES
