The Angel of Death

Growing up I read many old, Islamic tales of dubious origin about the Angel of Death, who, long ago, used to come upon people in a familiar-like manner. Nowadays of course, when the Angel of Death comes, you don't even see him. You're minding your own business jaywalking cross the street when out of nowhere a Coca Cola delivery truck mows you down. But back in the days of yore, when God glanced at his Giant Dayplanner and recalled that this was your last day on earth, he'd send the Angel of Death, named Izra'il, to you. Izra'il, a mighty creation made of pure light, and therefore too tremendous for our human minds to comprehend, would approach you in the form of a man. And he would say to you, "Your time is up," and then remove your soul from your body. No sneaking up on a person and taking them by surprise.

Naturally, many people would resist, debate or argue with the Angel of Death as soon as they saw him. "Give me time to settle my accounts/make arrangements for my family" was a common refrain, at least among men. There is that famous story of the wealthy man who bumped into the Angel of Death in the marketplace, and begged a short stay of Izra'il's purpose on the pretence of readying his estate, but instead bought a flying carpet and made himself off to Damascus (or some such place). Upon arriving there he was quivering with relief and quite pleased at his quick thinking. Meanwhile, Izra'il mentions to a dinner companion that he'd been startled to see the rich man in the marketplace that afternoon, as he had orders to take his soul in Damascus the next morning. The moral, of course, is: Don't bother trying to reschedule your appointed time; God does not use a pencil.

As you're probably well aware, many years ago Izra'il pretty much stopped making his presence known at the time of soul-taking. I don't know the official story, but my dad used to say it was because the Angel of Death went to God with a complaint about all the harassment he got from people who didn't want to die. While he was accustomed to dealing with aggravated individuals, the last straw apparently came when he got punched in the face by Moses. God agreed that enough was enough, and rescinded the courtesy of Izra'il making himself known to healthy bodies.

If the Angel of Death came to me tonight, I'd be acutely dissatisfied with my life's accomplishments. More than that, I'd be embarrassed for all my unrecycled mail piled up in the Den, not to mention the layer of dust up top my kitchen cabinets. I'd need a lot longer than a day to get my affairs in order.