Flying back to Heaven, I decide – on an impulse – to stop by Jerusalem. Jophiel humors me and decides to come with. It turns out neither of us has been back there since...since that day. We don't talk about it much, for obvious reasons.

"Why?" I can hear you asking. It was a win, wasn't it? Everything happened as Dad intended it. Hallelujah, He is risen! All is forgiven, you too can be resurrected! God loves you! He has let you kill his only son so that your sins can be forgiven.

I tell Jo-Jo what I'm thinking. His take on it all is beautiful, just like he is. "Yes, letting your child be killed for the sake of others shows just how much you love the murderers. But what does that say about how you love your son – who is really you, who can't die no matter what – doesn't that lessen the sacrifice? Because it's all just for show?"

We walk through the downtown streets and decide to visit a nearby laundromat in the suburbs. It's packed, but the feeling of people gathered to do the same task is a small connection to times past. No one can see us, of course.

"We rarely talk about the whole 'Trinity' kerfuffle." Jophiel shrugged.

"I think it's just Dad being obtuse. He really dislikes it when we want to understand what he does." I elbow-bump him.

"Oh, don't I know it. 'Theirs is not to reason why' and all that. That's Baap!"

"That's Tennyson. But now that I think about it, I've never seen Dad and the Son and the Holy Spirit together in the same place. Have you?"

Jo-Jo was lending a hand to an old bubbe who would have lost her grip on a straw basket of clean laundry, sending it all over the dusty floor, to be trod upon by many feet. The woman made it out of the laundromat, where her granddaughter took the basket from her.

"No. No, I haven't. What if...No, not even Baap would do that." Jophiel shook her head.

"Yes, he would have. He did, in fact." A human woman with long, shiny black hair streaked with bright silver tapped Jophiel on the forehead. "Took you long enough, wisest of them all." She turned to me. "You, Chammy – you would never think of something like that. You love too deeply." And then she continued to fold her laundry.

Jo-Jo and I were speechless. How is it that the woman can touch us, much less see or hear us? I get the nagging feeling that she is familiar somehow.

"Jo, what were you thinking?" I ask.

"That maybe there's only Baap? That the whole Trinity thing was just Baap being funny and wanting to confuse all those self-important scholars? That Baap never had a child with...MARY! We have missed you so, so, so much! Where have you been? How is The Son? What are you doing?"

Mary pinches her cheek. Of course, she's Mary. What other human woman could converse with angels?

"I'm doing laundry, Jo. What does it look like? Thanks to your Baap's stubbornness, if you live on earth, you wear clothes. And you wear clothes, you do laundry. One thing leads to another. I tried to tell him that, but did he listen? Men! Women are humans 2.0 – the upgraded version! Bah! As for my son, he never visits. Before you ask - yes, there was a son. I'll have to tell him you've seen through our little subterfuge."

I said that I didn't understand. Mary chuckled.

"Why, the fact that Jesus is, in the flesh, my Joseph's son. Oh, wipe that look off your angelic face, dear. According to the Good Book, we're all His children, right? Father of us all. That's metaphorically, dear, not literally. God offered me a good deal, and I took it. What mother wouldn't want the best for her son, right? Joseph swallowed his pride, Jesus gets special privileges, and I get to brag that he's the one and only Son of God. Here, dear – could you hold the end of that sheet? Thanks. So, how's His Nibs doing? He so rarely comes to visit. Like Father, like son."

It's too much to take in all at once. Jophiel and I look at each other. "What are you doing here? In Jerusalem? Why haven't..." But Mary walks to an old, one-story building that hadn't been there before. It is her home from centuries ago, replicated down to the small pots of bellflowers, crocus and Queen Anne's Lace. And the donkey, who Mary had named Mensch.

Joseph waved to us from his workbench, where he was working on what appeared to be a Louis XVI armoire. He didn't say anything, but his contentment was a like a welcoming warm glow. He's a man of few words, which is good, because (as you've guessed) Mary is a chatterbox.

"Oh, Chammy. I like it here. It's home! I don't know how people stand it in Heaven. It's – what does that nice boy sing – oh, yes. 'It's either sadness or euphoria.' Those kids in Texas, I can't imagine all the crying when they got there. And then trying to convince them, that it's all part of his 'Great Plan.' You've avoided my question – how is He?"

I'm wondering if it's wise to tell Mary the truth. Not that you can successfully lie to a Jewish mother. Jophiel, however, answers her question instantly.

"He's not in Heaven. Hasn't been for almost 200 years. And the Archangels left, all but Raguel, Michael and Chammy here. Because of what happened in Texas. They've been gathering the rest of us together to go back to Heaven, and...well...decide what we can do. To get him to return and do something about humanity. Because..."

"Because he's being a schmuck. Oh, Jo, don't look so shocked – A mensch can sometimes be a schmuck. Right, old friend?" Mary asks the donkey, who brays. "Even the Almighty." She looks at me and points her right index finger. "Let me guess. My son is missing too, hm? They're – how do the kids say it today, Joe?"

"Tight," he answers, smoothing an ornate curve.

"They're tight," she says with a smile.

"Actually, your son vanished before Dad did," I explain, "And some of us think that contributed to Dad's disappearance."

"I'm not surprised," Mary sighed. "Jesus felt it wasn't right to make someone die for mistakes that other people made. Think about it – what message does that send? It's supposed to make people take responsibility for their actions? Look where it got poor Lou! Ah, Men!"

"Mary," said Jo-Jo softly, "Knowing that your son can travel anywhere in Creation, where would he go if he were melancholy or upset? Or just to think? Or unwind?"

"There's an old bathhouse he liked. If he's around, you'll see it, in the same way you're seeing this old place. But – I think it might be best for Michael to see him. Alone." Mary was looking at me very seriously.

"Why?" I asked.

"I'm going to tell you something, but you must promise not to tell anyone. Not even Michael. Your Dad, if he comes back..."

"If?!" cried Jophiel.

Mary again taps him on his beautiful forehead. "He's the Almighty, dear. He does what he wants. He answers to no one. Your Dad will know that you know. And he'll know that I told you. Now, Chammy – and you, too, Jophiel – promise on your wings."

We both promised. "My son died early. And it was your Dad's, your Baap's decision to change it, that drove a wedge between them. And between him and Joseph and me. He was always quick to anger and apologized 2,000 years later. But the damage was done. Now, unless you want my lamb stew – we're not vegan, you know – go back to Heaven. And make it better."

She hugged and kissed us, and when she vanished into the house, we were standing in front of a coin laundromat near Hebrew University. In our hands, though, were homespun bags of home baked rugelach and babka. We couldn't help but smile as we spread our wings and headed skyward.