Call Me Michael

My middle name is Michael.  Michael is supposed to be some bad-ass angel working for the good guys–this is what my Catholic faith says–well, not exactly in those words.

I wish I knew how to put an image of Michael with sword killing a demon.  If you research the Internet for images of Saint Michael the Archangel, there are plenty.

Frankly, I do take pride in having that name.  It is a solid masculine name.  Essentially, Catholic mythology says that Michael is a sword-wielding enforcer.  Do I believe in that angel stuff?  I am not sure–but I lean toward belief.

When I was a kid, I tried to learn as much about angels as possible.  Knowledge is power, right?  If I knew about angels–and specifically Michael–it might help me ward off the demons that were allegedly running around.  Upon receiving Holy Communion for the first time, I received a statue of Michael.  He is standing on top of a devil with a spear in hand.  He had wings and the ability to fly.  What a great image!  Like today’s Ninja Turtles. (Maybe not)

What is an angel?  For that matter; what is a demon?  Do the necessarily have to be spirits?  Are the alive in this world?  For many, they are fully present.  Personally, I have not seen any.  But, somehow, I have had some experiences that lead me to wonder.  I know that there must be good and bad forces.  Sometimes, we do not know what possesses one to do either good or bad.  There is an existential issue here.  It is easy to promote what is exceptional to something that is more than human.  The only way of doing that is bringing into plays some kind of spiritual realm.

If we cannot get our arms around such a being, we throw them up to sky.  Somehow, we have to put something on the pedestal that is more than mortal man.  Why could an angel not just someone with a good heart, someone who tells the truth, someone who does good deeds.  If that were the case, would it not be possible for all of us to be angels for someone?  Perhaps, an angel is a first responder, someone who has the patience of Mother Teresa, or simply someone who stepped in the way of one of us making a mistake.

If there are angels, these would be the qualities that I would be looking for.


  1. Sometimes I feel like I am trying to make sense of the spiritual dimension, meaning of life, and the principles of love and goodness – and getting exactly as far as a an ant would by spending her whole life looking at, studying and reflecting on the sight, smell, dimensions and meaning of my left big toe.


  2. I think you’re right, other people around us are angels. The guy that finds your lost dog and brings him home to you. The lady that put her hand up protectively, stopping you from stepping off the curb and getting hit by a bus. I don’t believe angels and demons exist except in one’s own mind. By not believing in them, I no longer struggle with spiritual issues. I am at peace with the world and feel at one with it. Without religion.


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