I have noticed that TV news anchors and radio hosts now often say “be warned” before particularly sensitive material is shared. They say something like “The following report contains …” and offer an alert.
In that spirit, I am offering an alert. This column contains references to body parts and bodily functions. If that is not your cup of tea, you might want to stop reading now.
But first, let me begin with some brief thoughts about miracles. This is the season when there is much talk about miracles. The miracle of the small amount of oil, enough to light the menorah in the temple for one night, lasting for eight days — a miracle celebrated during Hanukkah. And the miracle of the birth of Jesus to Mary, a virgin, celebrated on Christmas. We are now deep into a season of miracles.
As a minister, I am asked, with some frequency, if I believe in miracles. I answer Yes. But I would not have always said Yes. As a young person, I scoffed at the idea of miracles. But I remember when, in my mid-20s, I felt I witnessed miracles, and I have believed in miracles ever since.
The “conversion experience” to being a believer in miracles occurred during my second year in nursing school in North Carolina. During our medical-surgical rotation, all nursing students were required to observe a series of surgical operations and autopsies. It is difficult to convey how profound those experiences were for me.
Now the previously mentioned warning comes into play.
I found it breathtaking, faith-deepening, and miracle-confirming to witness several operations and autopsies. For me, it was awe-inspiring to see a beating heart, watch two lungs expand and contract, see blood coursing through veins and arteries, and note how the intestines were neatly arranged in graceful swirls and coils.
I stood there, age 25, gowned, masked, and gloved in the operating room, stunned by the miracle of the human body. How could these organs and systems have come to be? It was, and still is, miraculous to me.
When I observed autopsies, I saw organs lifted gently out of the body, held with care and weighed with interest. The organs and bones were large and small, slimy and smooth, pink, red, brown and white. Each one miraculous.
My appreciation for the miracle of the human body deepened during the year-long course called Symptoms, Diagnosis, and Treatment. We studied the workings of the liver, spleen, ovaries, retina, and small intestines, to name just a few.
What the modest little thyroid does — as just one example — is nothing short of a miracle. The same is true for the adrenal glands, the kidneys, and the prostate.
How is it possible that messages from our brains, hormones from our organs, and responses from the 10 major systems of the body — skeletal, muscular, nervous, endocrine, cardiovascular, lymphatic, respiratory, digestive, urinary, and reproductive — could be so interwoven physiologically that we can function as one finely-tuned human machine? How is this possible? Human beings are walking, talking miracles.
Do I believe in miracles? Without any doubt. I have seen the human body cut open and witnessed the most stunning, complicated, neatly packaged, highly specialized assemblage of bones, muscles, tissues, and organs that know just what to do and do just what they know.
Do I believe in miracles? Yes. Our bodies may have certain limitations, chronic diseases, physical challenges, recurring illnesses, and more. And every single body is miraculous; each one of us, miraculous.
Do I believe in miracles? Yes. And far beyond just the wonder I feel about the human body.
I find it miraculous that people find and express hope in desperately sad times with suffering all around them.
I find it miraculous that people are so remarkably generous over and over and over again—with their time, love, energy, and dollars.
I find it miraculous that activists — young, old, and in-between — do not give up their passionate work for a safe, healthy, just, and peaceful world.
I find it miraculous that people engage daily in unthanked, unglamorous, unheralded acts of compassion and kindness in this beautiful but broken world. The fact that human agency is at the root of some of these miracles does not make them less miraculous.
I am reminded of the words of Hans Christian Andersen who said, “The whole world is a series of miracles, but we are so used to them, we call them ordinary things.”
Each day after the Winter Solstice, the days get longer by 2 minutes and 7 seconds. In this season, as the light which has faded for weeks slowly and silently begins to return, I ponder the miracles of a planet turning on its axis, the warmth of the sun, and the promise of spring.
The pancreas, the hypothalamus, the pituitary gland, the planet, the human spirit, red-tailed hawks, bison, octopi, evergreens, flatworms, pigs, moths — all miracles.
As Walt Whitman wrote in Song of Myself, ” … a mouse is miracle enough to stagger sextillions of infidels.” Count me in among those who are staggered by the miracle of a mouse. Count me among those who believe in miracles.
Rev. Andrea Ayvazian, Ministerial Team, Alden Baptist Church, Springfield, and founder and director of the Sojourner Truth School for Social Change Leadership.