I’ve just received a little over nine bottles of a substance
derived from other people’s blood. Nine is the number Dante associates with his
blessed lady Beatrice: so much so, that she’s said to be the number nine. Her name calls her a Blessing; her number calls
her a miracle. Dante’s maths makes three the sole factor of nine, and three is
comprised of Father, Son and Holy Spirit (three in One) the root of miracles.
Many in
hospital were needing miracles. Not only the patients, but the staff were
contending with illness, distress, and close calls. A nurse told me she was in
this country looking after her dying sister. Another had been a cancer patient
on this same ward. A doctor had two sick family members. Being a nurse, a
doctor, or a priest won’t exempt you from the suffering all around. The truth
of suffering is Buddhism’s first Noble Truth.
Can the
blood of others entering the body contribute to miracles? In Dante’s day it
would have seemed so. The blood of one Other in particular carries miraculous
power. The recovered nurse believed her faith had made her well. ‘Others can
cure,’ she said, ‘but Jesus heals!’
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