by Joe Nickell
The synoptic writers credit Jesus with similar feats, one the Raising of Jairus's Daughter (Mark 5:22–43). In the story, Jairus, one of the rulers of the synagogue, entreats Jesus to come with him, for he says, “My little daughter lieth at the point of death.” On the way others bring news that the child has died. But when Jesus arrives he pronounces that “the damsel is not dead but sleepeth.” Taking the child by the hand, as the story goes, Jesus says, “Damsel, I say unto you, arise.” And immediately she did so. Christians have interpreted Jesus’ statement that the child was only sleeping to be figurative (Dummelow 1951, 658–59) despite the fact he says she was “not dead.” Perhaps in such a case a practiced eye had seen the truth of the matter, for—like a physician—Jesus afterwards reportedly instructed she be given something to eat.
A similar story—with equally shrewd observation—is told of Krishna (Chrishna) in the Hindu Hari-Purana. “‘Why do you weep?’ replied Chrishna, in a gentle voice. ‘Do you not see that she is sleeping? See she moves. Kalavatti! [the girl's name] Rise and walk!’” Agreed, these tales of Chrishna and Christ (virtually identical, as are the names of the wonder workers) are intended by their storytellers to be understood as miraculous resurrections; yet details in the accounts themselves—assuming them factual—suggest the “dead” were possibly only unconscious.
That bystanders—especially among the Hebrews—might fail to approach a supposedly dead person close enough to perceive the vital signs would not be surprising. Superstition could play a part in this; and, to the Hebrews, touching the dead meant one would become “unclean” and would be denied the sacraments until the uncleanness was removed (Asimov 1968, 156–57).
STORY OF LAZARUS
Jesus’ Raising of Lazarus is told only by John (11:1–2): “Now a certain man was sick, named Lazarus of Bethany, the town of Mary and her sister Martha. (It was that Mary who anointed the Lord with ointment, and wiped his feet with her hair, whose brother Lazarus was sick.)” In what is clearly a storytelling element, Jesus deliberately tarries, allowing Lazarus to die so that—as he tells his disciples—“ye may believe.” He says, “I go that I may awake him out of sleep”; but John has him add: “Lazarus is dead.” When Jesus comes to the tomb, a cave, it is covered by a stone.
Jesus asks that the stone be taken away, but Martha pleads, “By this time he stinketh: for he hath been dead four days” [that is, after three days]. Jesus admonishes her to have faith then gives a brief prayer, that “the people which stand by…may believe that thou hast sent me.” John continues (11:43–44): “And when he thus had spoken, he cried with a loud voice, ‘Lazarus, come forth.’ And he that was dead came forth bound hand and foot with graveclothes, and his face was bound about with a napkin. Jesus saith to them, ‘Loose him, and let him go.’” (See figure 25.2.)
Although only John's Gospel contains the miracle, he did not invent the story. It is, first of all, found in somewhat dislocated fashion in Luke—who relates the raising of an unnamed man and also gives the Parable of Lazarus the Beggar. The anonymous man is the only son of a widow whom Jesus tells, “Weep not.” Luke continues (7:14–15): “And he came and touched the bier: and they that bare him stood still. And he said, ‘Young man, I say unto thee, Arise.’ And he that was dead sat up, and began to speak.”
The parable also touches upon resurrection (Luke 16:19–31). The beggar named Lazarus, “full of sores,” has died and gone to heaven. A rich man, who had shown little compassion, is in hell. The latter asks that Lazarus be returned to life so that he might warn the rich man's brothers of the fate awaiting them. But, from heaven, Abraham replies, “If they hear not Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded though one rose from the dead.”
Did John put together these two elements—the raising of the unnamed man and the parable of Lazarus—to create a single story? Or did both Luke and John tap an earlier source? In any case, as one scholar says of the Lazarus narrative, “it is only a preview of Jesus’ own miraculous resurrection; therefore the two are one” (Graham 1975, 337).
Around the world are various alleged “miracle” springs, many promoted by Roman Catholics, the most famous of which is Lourdes in southern France.
BACKGROUND
There, in 1858, a fourteen-year-old girl, Bernadette Soubirous (1844–1879), claimed to see apparitions of the Virgin Mary that directed her to the spring at the back of a grotto (figure 26.1). Soon, rumors of miraculous healings surfaced, along with tales of miracles in Bernadette's youth, and in 1933 the late visionary was canonized a saint (Jones 1994).
Meanwhile, in 1884, the Lourdes Medical Bureau was founded and has since recognized sixty-six miracle cures at the site. Moreover, some 6,800 cases that were said to be “medically inexplicable” did not meet the church's criteria to be declared miraculous. (The existence of a disease must not only be proven in a case but the cure must be “instantaneous” as well as “complete and permanent.”) (Nickell 1998; Morris 2004)
MIRACULOUS? REALLY?
However, miracle is not a scientific term or concept. Since the Lourdes miracle, claims are derived from those cases that are held to be “medically inexplicable,” Claimants are engaging in a logical fallacy called arguing from ignorance. That is, one cannot draw a conclusion from a lack of knowledge. Moreover, some cases appear to be nothing more than the result of poor investigation. For instance, doctors who examined one 1976 certification pronounced it “vague” and “obtuse,” labeling the documents as “a lot of mumbo jumbo” and as “unscientific and totally unconvincing” (Nickell 1998, 150–51).
There are additional indicators that Lourdes lacks any true healing properties. One is that cases do have alternate explanations. For example, some concern illnesses—such as multiple sclerosis—that are known to show spontaneous remission. Other “cures” may be attributable to misdiagnosis, psychosomatic conditions, prior medical treatment, the body's own healing power, and other effects.
As well, some types of potential miracle healings never occur at Lourdes, as indicated by the comment of French writer Anatole France. On visiting the shrine and seeing the discarded crutches and canes, he exclaimed, “What, what, no wooden legs???” (Nickell 1998, 150–51).
Still another reason for skepticism is that those who seem eminently to deserve healing may receive no benefits at all. For example, Bernadette herself failed to be aided by the spring's touted curative powers. Having been sickly as a child, she was bedridden for the last years of her life and died young, at the age of only thirty-five (Nickell 1998, 149; Jones 1994).
And then there is the case of ailing Pope John Paul II, who visited Lourdes in August 2004. The eighty-four-year-old pontiff—who had Parkinson's disease and knee and hip debilities—struggled through Mass, gasping and trembling. In a rare reference to his own condition, he assured other ill pilgrims that he shared their suffering. Poignant as was that statement, it nevertheless underscored the fact that the claimed healing powers of Lourdes were ineffective even for the head of the church that promotes the claims of miracles there. He died the following year.
REFORM
As the evidence indicates, Lourdes offers pilgrims only the illusion of miracles. The overwhelming millions of visitors to the shrine receive no benefits, unless false hope is considered one. They are instead drained of money.
Now, Dr. Patrick Theiller, the secretary of the International Medical Committee of Lourdes, has announced that the Lourdes medical panel will no longer be in the “miracle” business. “It's a sort of rebellion, if you will, against laws that don't concern us—and shouldn't,” Theiller told the Associated Press’ Jamey Keaton (for an article published December 2, 2008). He added, “The medical corps must be independent of the ecclesiastic power.” The bishop of the local diocese did acknowledge: “It seems ‘miracle’ may not be the right word to use anymore. It's no longer a black-and-white question.”
Appropriately, it is now the church that will be left to decide on so-called miracles; the panel will only ind
icate whether cases are “remarkable.” And remarkable healings can happen to anyone, independent of religious shrines and supposedly magical water. The $400 million that enrich Lourdes annually could be better spent on medical science than on superstitious beliefs from an earlier time.
OTHER SHRINES
Attributable in part to the success of Lourdes, other “curative” waters are (so to speak) springing up elsewhere. One is at Tlacote, Mexico, where a ranch owner claimed his well water could cure any disease, including AIDS. Scientists said the well yielded only ordinary water but noted that it was safe to drink.
A different verdict was rendered in the case of water on the Rockdale County, Georgia, property of Nancy Fowler, a woman who claimed to see scheduled apparitions of the Virgin Mary. Mrs. Fowler stated that her well water was blessed when Jesus Christ himself appeared to her. However, a sample of the water was found to be contaminated with coliform bacteria and therefore unsuitable for drinking. The Rockdale County Health Department asked the visionary to post a sign at the well to warn people of the possible danger (Nickell 1998, 153). (I later drank the water after it had been treated, and I suffered no ill effects.)
Then there is the “Lourdes of the Bronx,” as the New York Times dubbed it, where curative water flows from a rocky replica of the French grotto. The fake spring is only piped city water, but the parish priest blesses the water annually in a special rite. The parish business manager says of some people's claims of miracles at the local shrine, “I can't prove anything but the faith they had in the Lord and themselves. I do know there is something here you can't touch, see or feel. But there is something here” (Gonzalez 1992).
That “something” is the aura of the miraculous attending ordinary water that is set in a religious context and offered to the credulous—especially those who are desperate for help.
I have twice visited the Shrine of Our Lady of Lourdes (named after the famous healing-spring grotto in the French Pyrenees) at Oostakker, Belgium. The shrine's most celebrated miracle is the healing of a laborer named Pierre De Rudder, whose lower left leg was broken by a felled tree in 1867. Reportedly, De Rudder refused amputation and for eight years suffered constant pain from his open and festering wound. Then, in April 1875, he visited the Oostakker shrine where, allegedly, he was instantaneously healed, after which he “walked normally until his death in 1898” at age seventy-six (Neiman 1995, 100–101). On July 25, 1908, the Holy See of Bruges declared the healing supernatural.
Over time, a number of legends grew up about the case, including a claim that De Rudder had been treated by Professor Thiriar, physician to King Léopold II (a claim dropped by the miraculists after a denial by Thiriar himself). More significantly, it was claimed that prior to 1875 De Rudder's unmended leg could be twisted at the fracture point to the extent of revolving the foot half a turn (i.e., putting the heel in front). Then, when De Rudder was allegedly cured in 1875, the mending was “instantaneous.” Unfortunately, most of the important testimony in the case went unrecorded for eighteen years, and memories of this age are subject to error (Delcour 1987).
A NEW TWIST
For example, Dr. Van Hoestenberghe claimed that he had performed the twisting movement on De Rudder's leg, when in fact the physician's recollection was a false memory. A letter he had written on May 12, 1875 (which had become lost by the time of a canonical inquiry in 1893 but was rediscovered by 1957) revealed that he had not performed the twist, nor even seen it, but had only heard persons talk about it.
Moreover, the twist was apparently not demonstrated at the point of the fracture by showing the naked leg. Instead, it was done with the leg clothed, so the observers could not know where the twist actually occurred. This is a crucial point because certain supple persons can turn their feet almost completely around, like De Rudder, without benefit of any abnormal mobility.1 Although some claimed the leg was uncovered when they saw De Rudder twist it, two men who were present for his demonstrations “well over a hundred times” stated the leg was never naked on those occasions (Delcour 1987). De Rudder's eagerness to demonstrate the effect at every opportunity suggests not a suffering man happy to suffer more but someone performing a stunt with a purpose—one that will soon become clear.
INSTANTANEOUS
As to the supposed instantaneous nature of the healing, that claim depends on the dubious testimony of just three persons: an illiterate woman who was apparently represented by hearsay and a father and son who seemed eager to help certify a miracle. (Their story even improved over the years.)
In contrast is the evidence that De Rudder had actually undergone “a certain improvement” about fourteen months after the accident. We know that the viscount who employed De Rudder at the time of the accident gave the invalid worker a pension, characterized as a “nice salary.” It was rumored about the village that De Rudder was malingering in order to effect a life of ease.
After the viscount died on July 26, 1874, his heir stopped the pension, whereupon De Rudder's wife and daughter had to begin working. Some eight months later, De Rudder may have hit on a clever plan that would allow him to abruptly end his pretended disability so he could, necessarily, return to work: he went to Oostakker and claimed a miraculous cure. However, he returned home with a scar that, reported by Dr. Van Hoestenberghe, was “such as one finds a long time after a healing” (quoted in Delcour 1987).
Other medical evidence likewise supports the view that De Rudder's healing was less than miraculous. A broken leg such as he suffered could—with immobility and good hygiene—have healed without amputation. Besides, the bones (see figure 27.1) grew together obliquely in a fashion a surgeon would not have been proud of. Also, that which would have indeed been beyond nature—the reconstitution of De Rudder's dead tendon—did not occur (De Meester 1957, 106). One touted proof that the cure was instantaneous comes from the absence of thickening of the bone callus at the mending site, but this thickening could have been reabsorbed by the body in several months or a few years (Encyclopedia Britannica 2009, s.v. “callus”). Adrien Delcour (1987) concludes that the physicians who consider the De Rudder case miraculous almost unanimously do so on the basis that the cure was instantaneous, and that, as we have seen, is dependent on dubious testimony. Indeed, there is evidence to the contrary.
IN SUM
The De Rudder case gives one pause regarding other claims of miraculous healing at Oostakker, Lourdes, and elsewhere. Such certifications are often vague and unscientific. Miracle is not a scientific concept, and miracle claims are typically only those found to be “medically inexplicable.” Thus, claimants are engaging in a logical fallacy called “arguing from ignorance”—that is, drawing a conclusion based on a lack of knowledge (Nickell 2007, 202–205). The De Rudder case is even worse, since there is evidence that an injury, healed long before, was passed off as instantaneous—a miracle that wasn't.
Called “the Lourdes of America” (after the famous French healing shrine), El Santuariò de Chimayó is a place of pilgrimages (figure 28.1). Scores visit the little adobe church daily, while thousands walk miles to worship there on Good Friday. Some carry heavy crosses, while others approach on their knees. Many come seeking a cure for their afflictions, scooping from a small pit in the church floor a reddish soil that they rub on afflicted areas of their bodies or even sprinkle on their food or brew in tea (Eckholm 2008).
THE LEGEND
The Hispanized word Chimayó derives from hot springs that were sacred to the Tewa Indians (a linguistic group of Pueblos) who called the springs Tsimajopokwi (pokwì in Tewa means “pool of water”). After the springs dried up the name was shortened to Tsimayo (Nealson 2001, 62). According to a pious legend (of which there are many versions), brethren from the secret Penitente Brotherhood were engaging in rites on a nearby hill on a dark Good Friday in 1810 when one saw a mysterious light coming from the valley. Investigating, and finding a half-buried crucifix, the men sent for a priest, the nearest church being ten miles away in Santa Cruz. The priest h
ad the wooden crucifix carried in a procession to his church, but by the next morning it had disappeared—having been miraculously returned to its original site! This removal and return occurred two more times before people understood the message: the crucifix was to remain on the spot that had reportedly been a sacred area for the Pueblo Indians (Eckholm 2008).
This grafting of a Roman Catholic element onto a native one—a process called syncretism—was common. It was often similarly accomplished by the shrewd use of a “miracle.” (For example, a “miraculous,” actually tempera-painted, image of the Virgin of Guadalupe appeared in Mexico City in 1531 to prompt the building of a Catholic shrine—on a hill where the conquered Aztecs had had a temple to their virgin goddess, Tonantzin [Nickell 1998; 2004].)
One of the Penitente brothers, Don Bernardo Abeyta, built a small hermita (shelter) onto his house to enshrine the miracle crucifix. The hermita also allegedly “covered a hole from which came a blessed dirt that cured all ailments” (Kay 1987, 35). Abeyta himself was “instantly healed” of an undisclosed illness (Kutz 1988, 46–47). Alternately, Indian stories from the twentieth century suggested that a Tewa pueblo had once stood on the spot next to a pool whose mud had healing properties (Harrington 1916, 342). Revealingly, the chapel's full name (El Santuariò de Chimayó de Nuestro Señor de Esquipulas) evokes a shrine in Guatemala that had long been venerated for its miraculous healing crucifix and surrounding earth with curative powers. As well, there are much-touted healing mud baths at Chilca, Peru (which I visited with a guide in 2006). In any event, in 1816 a chapel was completed on the Chimayó site by Father Francisco de Otocio, who was in charge of all New Mexico missions (Kay 1987, 29–37; Eckholm 2008).
