Angels Within

In the sleepy barrio of San Miguel, nothing really spectacular ever happened that was capable of putting it on the world map. If not for my grandparents who lived in the barrio and the chapel where I found my childhood superhero, the place would have nothing else that could entice me.

When I was about six, my father took me to San Miguel to stay a week with my grandparents. They were thrilled to have me.

My grandmother was tender and tolerant. She was the one who would lift the restrictions imposed on me by my parents. I loved her for that, giving me the chance to release all the energies of a restless boy. She was the best.

My grandfather, on the other hand, was a man of few words but
 his words commanded respect when he spoke. He was barely educated but he was a brilliant man. He had an interesting explanation for everything I asked about. My inquisitiveness amused him. His grandfatherly smile was the signal that his answer to my query would expand to another anecdote. I loved listening to his stories, most particularly the one about an angel-warrior. I enjoyed the story so much that I made him re-tell it over and over again.


I will never forget his opening line that could hook any little boy of my time, "There was a good and brave angel who was sent by God to fight the Devil." Then he would continue as he pointed to the easterly direction, "At sunrise, this brave angel named Michael drew his mighty sword and challenged the Devil who was hurting the children and turning good little boys into demons. They fought from early morning to late afternoon. And at sunset, the devil fell to the ground and valiant Michael won the battle.” My grandfather would then finish the story with a whisper to my ears, "He protects good little boys like you." It was his discreet way of telling me to stay out of trouble.

Whenever my grandfather was not around to repeat the story, I would go to the chapel across the road. There I would see my superhero, Michael, the barrio’s patron saint. I remember the mound of candle offerings. The light emitting from the flickering flames dramatically accentuated the valiant figure of the angel-warrior who fascinated me. His powerful wings were fully spread out. The mighty sword, tightly gripped by his right hand that was raised up in the air further intensified his fighting form. He looked victorious as he stood over the fallen Devil. His left foot resting on the defeated horned foe was a silent statement that loudly declared: God triumphs over evil.

It was a dramatic sculpture depicting the great battle, well described in my grandfather’s story. Michael was a good angel and a brave warrior. I wanted to be like him. And during my short visit to San Miguel, I managed to persuade a younger cousin to play the Devil. With bamboo sticks we would simulate the duel between the good and the bad, right to the end where I would raise my make-believe sword to proclaim victory.

Today, the role-playing still continues. We all have angels within us. When we protect others, help others, feel the pain in others, we become Michaels. I see Michael in every soldier fighting for justice and freedom. I see Michael in every fireman, carrying a child away from a burning house. I see angels everywhere, in everyone doing the good deeds as taught in the Christian faith.

When was the last time that you were at the lowest point of your life? Do you remember the person who showed up when least expected, just to make things right for you? Did it ever occur to you that maybe, just maybe, that person was an angel disguised as a stranger, a friend, or a relative? What about the time when you came upon a desperate person in need of help? And for some odd reason you had all that was required to solve the problem and you were so drawn to the situation. Would you believe that you were chosen by God to be one of his angels that day? Did you ever have the slightest idea that you are capable of an angelic task? Believe it or not, we all unknowingly received and rendered a heavenly service, from others and for others at one time or another.

We all have our own unique qualities that can be instrumental in carrying out God’s plans. Let us all be Michaels, without the wings and the sword.