Miracle Man

No, sir, I can’t grant that wish. I don’t care if you did free me from this lamp. I have rules now and the one you asked for isn’t happening. If you’d like to send me back into the lamp so be it. Why won’t I do what you ask? It’s because I’ve been asked before and the ending still haunts me. I’m happy to tell it to you though. You might as well know what it is you’re asking. 

One day a man found my lamp in a thrift shop. I will call him Tim. Just an average guy, much like you. Took the lamp home, rubbed it, you know the story, don’t you? Scared him half to death when I appeared. Thought he was crazy. It took some convincing but finally he accepted I was real. I told him he had three wishes for freeing me.  

“I want to perform miracles,” he said. “Heal people.” 

 I reminded him what happened to the last man who could do that. 

“Are you saying Jesus was wrong for what he did?” 

“No. But he was prepared for the outcome. You are not. It will not end well.” 

“You’re cynical.” 

“A thousand years dealing with humans does that to a spirit.” 

He sighed and looked up at me. He half fell, half sat on a faded couch that had seen better days. “My job is meaningless. My friends use me. They just want me for what I can give them. You see, I’m not that smart, not that they’re better. Still, they’re the best I can do.” He smiled and spoke of one woman he loved. “But she only sees me as a brother. I would like to do something good with my life before I die.” 

“With all due respect, you don’t need me to do that.” 

He had tears in his eyes. “I kinda do. Since I’m a loser.” 

Here’s where I should have said no. But I was furious with him. I’m not cut out for this first of all. I didn’t choose this path. That was my superior’s idea. Cursed? No. Call it a punishment. Long story. Anyway, this lamp was torture and now I would get my money’s worth. 

I never said I was a saint or even particularly kind. 

In the end we agreed he would have the ability to heal and to reverse climate change. Problems started immediately. How? Well he told his friends about it thinking he’d earn their respect. No. All he got was their fear. Of course they said he was joking. Said worse, actually. But deep down inside they suspected the truth-and it scared them. So one by one they left. 

“Look,” I told him. “You need to keep this silent.” 

 “What’s the point of doing these things if they don’t know it was me?” 

“You know you did this even if no one else does. Is that not enough?” 

“No. People will still see me as a loser”. 

 “Tim” I said quietly. “There was a reason Jesus swore the healed to silence. And drew away from crowds after he performed miracles. Because he knew doing it for fame kills the spirit. You did this. Let it be enough.” 

“Oh, spare me the virtue for its own sake bullshit” he shouted “you’re a genie! Like you get it! You can do anything you want!” 

 I admit I was furious. I went too far. “I cannot! Why do you think I am in the lamp in the first place! It’s not because I’m a leader among my kind! I’m not! I’m in it to learn a lesson!” I was inches from his face. “Do you think you’re the only one who struggles in this world or out of it?” I turned away and said, very softly, “Why don’t the two of us figure out together how to get out of the trouble we’re both in?” 

“I’m already out” he said, suddenly and furiously. With that, he went into his bedroom and slammed the door. 

Tim had a job in a grocery store. There were regulars that came to see him. He smiled, helped them, joked with them. Once or twice someone was short a dollar or two. And he’d give from his own pocket. By my Lord he had little enough. Of course, there are homeless on the street, but he was just getting by. And his smile! Beautiful. Ah, he was the guy who would give you the shirt off his back. And I knew why his friends took advantage. They could. And he knew it.  

No I’m not bullshitting you. Just listen. It’s important you know this. 

One day he healed someone. It was nothing, a teenager who had skinned his knee skateboarding. Problem was he scared the boy half to death. Well wouldn’t you be if Jesus just showed up? The Christians want his return they say but don’t be fooled. No one truly wants to think about what that means. You’d be forced to think through things about yourself and about the bible you’d rather not. Well, the teen told others. Soon people came for healings. He cured someone’s cancer. Someone else had unrelenting back pain. word spread. At first the store exploited him. But finally when the crowds got too large and the regulars had fled, he was fired. He left and went to a park to figure out his next move. 

A crowd followed. At this park was a mother with a child. Ah, I wish he had told her let’s go to a quiet place. I warned him to. But he was stubborn.  Humans are anyway but he was terribly so. Also stressed. The crowds were a burden. He was exhausted most days, not thinking well. The girl was in a stroller for she couldn’t walk.  

 “She was brain damaged at birth.” She told us why. I wish she hadn’t. “I was addicted to pain killers. Then, heroin,” she said quietly so the crowd wouldn’t hear. They did, anyway. “I know this was my fault but please help her even though I am worthless.”  

“You are!” shouted someone. “How can you even be here!” 

“Don’t judge her!” Tim cried. 

“There are war veterans waiting for you! But you would help a criminal!” The crowd was getting angry. 

 “You hypocrites, how can you deny a child!” He reached out his hands. 

“Tim!” I warned him. “NO! not here in front of this crowd!” But he was exhausted, furious. He healed the child. She smiled at her mother and got out of the stroller. At first the crowd was stunned. Tim walked away. Amazement turned to desperation which became rage. They-they surged forward. And-I'm sorry, it’s hard-they nearly knocked that poor child and the mother down. I like to think they didn’t notice. I used magic to shield them and the two ran. But I remember seeing how they nearly trampled the child Tim had just healed. I can’t forget it. What happened next, I don’t know because I spirited us away. Against the rules, but never mind that. This was my fault and I would be going back to hell soon enough-that lamp. I might as well break them all. 

We were on the run now, staying in shelters. He’d heal someone. We’d travel on. In one shelter we heard that the Paris agreement on climate change had ended. We also learned the USA president cut funding again to the agency that protects the environment. This wasn’t helping the algae bloom where Tim used to live, the plastics in the ocean, or the alternative energy industry. Tim said he wanted to be elected again so he was pandering to the miners. He was very sad. 

“We’re going to be right back where we started”. 

I said “you can’t make people change. You just can’t. And you have to live with that. It’s why I hate this job.” 

“He’s a liar and a thief”. 

“Yes. But you said elections are coming up.” 

“I don’t know that they’ll vote him out. We have elected an evil hypocrite”. 

“No, your people have elected a flawed leader who loves power. He secretly believes he’s weak. He’s shocked he got this far and won’t admit his fear even to himself. So he bullies. But your people have the means to make this right. You have to let them. You can do nothing else.” 

He just turned away, tears in his eyes. 

I will tell you now there is nothing worse than this helplessness. You can do so much yet it feels so meaningless. Even Jesus had cried out in despair, bled tears. At least he had someone to cry out to. Tim only had me. But although I am a spirit, I am no God nor Father. 

One night he finally did reach out. We sat near a waterfront. Behind us was the Florida bay. Across it, hotels on the far shore shone in the dark like stars. Bridges shone like tiny milky ways. In front of us were stores, music from a bar. There were homeless people around.  A very old looking man stopped in front of us.  Tim hesitated at first, but all the old man wanted was help with his-smartphone I think he called it. Tim smiled and helped him. The old man talked for a bit, telling him about storage units he was looking at. “I can make a home out of it” he said. Tim nodded and agreed it might work. 

“They are making homes from shipping crates,” he said. 

 The old man also talked about sea turtles. About the lights from the hotels confuses them, sending them to die on the highway. How on the ocean side lights must be turned off so the turtles find the sea. He spoke about the bridges as if once he’d been an engineer. Tim listened respectfully, which struck me. So many would have dismissed this old man who looked like he hadn’t had a haircut since I... saw this accursed lamp. Tim didn’t. When the old man left, I said I wished I knew his story. 

“You don’t know?” 

I smiled. “Believe it or not, I don’t.” 

Suddenly, “How do you deal with this?” 

“Don’t ask. I have a lot of anger. I do not handle any of this well.” 

“But still, there must be something you do. Otherwise you would despair and wish to...Can you die?” 

 “No. But…we can fade away. I-I have found it happening to me. If I- get too angry and think too much.” By my Lord, I thought, why was I telling a human this? 

“Well then you must do something, Gene. You’re still here.” 

Tim had given me this name saying Genie wasn’t respectful. “I-I try to think about any good I have done.” I told him about one wish that had affected me a lot and one I think about when I do get angry. It had been from a young girl in India long ago. She asked for a job for her father and herself. So he didn’t need to beg. 

“Did you give them one?” 

“Yes, for both. I secretly provided documents that were needed. I believe they are doing better now.” 

“Why didn’t she just ask to make them rich?” 

 “I asked her that. She said ‘we’d still be beggars. I want an education also.’ So that was arranged. She was selfless, Tim. Also, sometimes the smallest things can mean the most. You never know what the smallest deed can do. Like listening to an old, weary man.” 

“Like turning off lights for sea turtles,” he said. “For the least among us, right?” 

“It all matters, Tim.” 

After that we ended up in the devil’s den. Run by a pastor. 

 He called himself a healer. Really, he bamboozled people with speaking in tongues and scripture. Took in lots of money from his followers. Humans, I’ve noticed, can talk themselves into or out of anything. Pastor Michael John. I wonder if he chose that name. Michael means one close to God. It’s a thing of beauty his church. Lofty, painted roof. Stained glass windows. I remember the music they’d play on Sunday. Jesus had once told a rich man give up your worldly possessions and follow him. This pastor hadn’t taken that lesson to heart. He had real estate, a TV channel, the tax man at his shoulder. Tim once mentioned a cartoon involving a mouse named Marty. So I called the pastor that. He was a rat. 

Tim took a job at this church as a janitor. He had a room in a boarding house. We argued about this.  

“This man is a devil,” I said to Tim. “Mark my words. I don’t like him.” 

“I don’t like him either. But look. He gave me a job. And I need to eat.” 

Since I had at times broken more rules and provided food, we both knew that wasn’t the reason he wanted to stay. “Look. I know you’re sick of running. I am too. But Marty scares me”. 

“You’re a spirit. He can’t hurt you.” 

“By my Lord it isn’t me I’m worried about!” Those words stunned me. I was actually worried about him. And it was more than that. 

“I’ve got you though.” 

I looked out the window. The parking lot was ugly but no worse than the truth. “No. Listen. I’m a genie that was put into this lamp. Why? Honestly, it’s because my people were sick of my selfish arrogance. Presumably they wanted to be rid of me. So,” I couldn’t look at him, “I wouldn’t put any faith in me.” 

 Tim just laughed. “Gene, I think both of us have the same problem”. 

“Which is?” 

“We’re both idiots”. 

We laughed together. This was another reason why I liked Tim. He had a sense of humor and laughter heals. I so needed that. “I agree with you.” 

Fine. I’ll cut to the chase. But you’ll listen to every damned word. This is your future after all, for wanting this wish. Now, where was I? The pastor. Tim couldn’t figure out why this man had the following he did. He became angry, frustrated. He began to speak out against him in coffee shops, in the street. I became even more concerned. 

“Why are you causing trouble?” I asked him one night. 

“Someone has to!” 

“Why does it have to be you?” My imagination was working overtime, you see. 

“Why are you trying to stop me?” he shouted. “Do you think I can’t do this?” 

“That’s not it! I-I admire you. I really do.” 

He stared at me as if I was a stranger. “I thought you admired no one among us. Especially me.” 

“Idiot! I’ve told you before you’re capable of being someone without me.” I went on to tell him I didn’t want him hurt. That I wasn’t omnipotent and that we had better move on. 

“I only wanted to do something good,” he said. He went into the bathroom to escape me. 

Anyway, perhaps if that was all he did it would have been fine. But he started healing again. That would have been fine as well except-forgive me-this is hard. A reporter saw it. She-interviewed Tim. Tim spoke a lot about hypocrisy and evil people who take money from those who can least spare it. This pastor heard the news story. Here was the real article, preaching against a powerful charlatan. Pastor Marty fired Tim. He also threatened to report him for stealing. Some turned against Tim but too many didn’t. I guess Marty felt he had too much to lose. 

. Maybe what happened wasn’t his doing, but I’m sure it was. We were in homeless shelters again but he still found us. How? Maybe a spy. Tim usually befriended other down on their luck. The problem with that sort is that they are often unreliable.  Perhaps the pastor bribed someone or threatened him until he told. Tim was sitting outside the shelter. It was a hot day. I remember-oh I how I do! It was a busy street with people hurrying home from their jobs. Two men walked up to Tim and asked for a healing. I was there but thought nothing of them. They wore coats in spite of the heat but then often the mentally ill do this. We walked into a back alley. M-My idea. Once there it happened so fast. I saw they had gloves, cried a warning but by then, too late. They circled him, a third running up. The first man had a knife. He stabbed the knife straight into Tim’s stomach and twisted it for good measure before pulling it out and dropping it. As Tim fell, they turned and walked swiftly away, blending into the crowd that now pressed around us. 

I ran to him and held him in my arms. My Lord, I can’t weep, being a spirit but I wished to with all my heart. Someone also ran up and pressed a hand against him in a hopeless attempt to stop the blood. There was-so very much of it. I can’t forget it. In pain, and in sorrow, Tim told me his final wish.  

What was his final wish? Can’t you guess what it was? Or who Tim really is although I changed some small details? I hoped you wouldn’t go back to that antique store. And I hoped you would. Selfish of me, that. Anyway, you said I have made no difference in the world. I wish I could go back in time to my old life and forget all this.  Only you were wrong. Everything I said about you I meant it. You changed my thinking, brought me laughter and some hope for my dark days. You don’t remember, my friend, but I always will. Which brings me to a question I’ve always meant to ask you. What were you going to do with this ugly old lamp anyway?