A group of angels watched as a village woke into a new morning. People were coming out of their houses and starting their morning routines. The angels followed as a young shepherd steered his herd on the open field near the village.
"One thing I don't understand," one from the group said aloud. "Father seems to give these creatures so much value even though they sin against him. That boy, for instance, lied to his father that someone stole the three sheep the wolves eat last week while he was sleeping. Even the youngest ones of them do against His orders." Hushed conversations arise among the angels.
"It's not our place to question Father and his decisions," a voice responded and the angels quieted suddenly when they realized who had just joined them. Yes, some of them had their doubts about humans, but no-one of them would even dream of voicing them in the presence of Michael, the eldest of Heaven.
"Yes, they are flawed, but He has created them that way for a reason," Michael looked at the angel who had spoken. "You can take this as an exercise in loving even the least of His creations."
Michael watched as the other angels nodded in understanding. He would probably never stop marveling the faith they all seemed to put in him. He was supposed to be the eldest, the one with the answers. He looked at the boy with sheep. He was supposed to be the most loyal one, the one who served without a doubt.
They angels turned to leave satisfied when Lucifer appeared silently behind Michael.
"But one thing I don't understand," he said startling the others. "If He deliberately made them flawed and expects us to still love them, why did He instruct us to punish the sinners?"
Whispers spread among the angels. Lucifer knew whole well how others saw him: he was the independent one, the God's favorite, the only one who would even dare to ask questions.
"It's not our job to question Him," Michael said frowning at Lucifer, not noticing the pleading look he gave at him. Please, brother, you can't turn a blind eye. Don't leave me stand alone with this.
A whoosh of wings cut the air.
"I don't think we are meant to understand Him completely," Gabriel said appearing next to his brothers making them to break their staring match. "Because let really think about it. Dad has created some pretty weird stuff. Like sloths." Some of the angels snorted. "I've never really understood them. They sleep by dangling in the trees, they don't have any muscles to speak about, they move 13 feet a minute at max, all they do is eat and sleep and they come down at ground, where they are in danger of being eaten, every couple of weeks just to‒"
"That's enough, Gabriel," Michael cut him off but he could see the smile his brother tried to hide. A couple of angels laughed quietly on the background, but he didn't let his expression falter. He knew that he had been named as the official clown of Heaven, but if that was what it took to break the tension between his brothers, then so be it.