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shaved head? He was this bald Buddhist monk and walked slowly
forward, cat steps, to the knee-high railing behind the seated Dack
Zuster.
I had the crazy idea he was going to reach over and touch
Dack. But, no, he stood motionless, silent, his hands folded before
him. Then Eugene lowered his head, closed his eyes, seemed to slip
into meditation. Eerie.
The judge droned on. Documents the plaintiff to make
available, when, where.
My attention shifted back to monk Eugene. Now I don t know
Asian religions: Eugene the Buddhist monk could also have been
Hindu, Shinto, Taoist, Janist, or, for that matter, Christian. I did
know, however, he was praying, praying for Dack right there like
I d done. I knew that.
This went on for some time, then Dack pushed the crutches to
one side. In fact, put them against the railing by the bald Buddhist,
whom Dack smiled at, as if they knew each other.
One attorney whispered in Dack s ear. Dack ignored him, bent
down to his foot with the knee-high contraption. Black nylon, black
plastic fittings, lots of Velcro.
Then bald Buddhist Eugene opened his eyes. The judge had
paused and no one was coughing. Prayerful Eugene looked at Dack
and said softly, You are healed. He bowed toward Dack with a
beatific smile.
Order in the court. The judge struck down the gavel.
Spectators, any talking in this courtroom and the bailiff will
remove you.
The healer turned about and left, taking the mysterious inner
smile with him.
Dack, the grace of goodness in his face, tugged the Velcro
straps of the orthopedic boot and wriggled his foot free.
His attorneys, seemingly confused, nearly fell from their
wooden swivel chairs.
Order in the court. I insist.
Don t take that off, our whole case depended on your
permanent injury.
I can walk, Dack said. His face glowed like sunrise. I can t
believe it, I am healed. He walked the aisle and kept walking out
the courtroom with only the slightest of limps.
My neck, shoulders, and back suddenly flushed with joyful
release. That nightmarish moment from five weeks earlier was
thrown away. That spot where I crushed Dack s foot underneath
the wheel of my car had vanished. I had witnessed a healing of
Christ there among us. In the person of Eugene the Buddhist monk.
This was my faith at work.
Gomez turned to me with an intensity in his eyes that wanted to
burn paper. We ve been had, he spluttered. No way you ran
over his foot. Doctor s letter was fake. And those shyster lawyers.
I thought Gomez had taken leave of his senses. He d reassured
me about the gravity of the lawsuit more than once. I thought you
knew those attorneys, you acted chummy with them.
Professional courtesy. He waved his hand dismissively.
Never saw a one of them before today. This is ridiculous. I ve
never, never seen anything as blatant as a healing in the courtroom.
Can you believe it?
I wasn t about to get into discussing faith with Gomez. Still I
had be clear on what I was about. As a matter of fact, yes. If
once in my life, I were to see the miraculous happen in my life, I
sure wasn t ready to deny it like Gomez. My faith hadn t gone sour
on me. I knew that.
Did you see how that Zuster smiled when he first saw the
monk, like they knew each other? It s one big sham. I m going to
move for a dismissal of the award and, with your consent, go ahead
and file charges for possible fraud. Gomez took a deep breath as if
back on the dry land of legalisms, he had unmasked as ordinary the
miracle of minutes before.
I decided to press him. So you really don t think, I said, the
monk healed Dack? The abandoned crutches leaned on the railing
behind the plaintiff s table. This reminded me of crutches left to
hang on the walls of that sanctuary back east where miracles
happen quite often.
No, I don t believe in fairy tales, why do you ask?
Then we disagree. Gomez had this look in his face, both
incredulous and empty. I wasn t about to waste my breath. A
conspiracy of no less than five people, three of which had to be [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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shaved head? He was this bald Buddhist monk and walked slowly
forward, cat steps, to the knee-high railing behind the seated Dack
Zuster.
I had the crazy idea he was going to reach over and touch
Dack. But, no, he stood motionless, silent, his hands folded before
him. Then Eugene lowered his head, closed his eyes, seemed to slip
into meditation. Eerie.
The judge droned on. Documents the plaintiff to make
available, when, where.
My attention shifted back to monk Eugene. Now I don t know
Asian religions: Eugene the Buddhist monk could also have been
Hindu, Shinto, Taoist, Janist, or, for that matter, Christian. I did
know, however, he was praying, praying for Dack right there like
I d done. I knew that.
This went on for some time, then Dack pushed the crutches to
one side. In fact, put them against the railing by the bald Buddhist,
whom Dack smiled at, as if they knew each other.
One attorney whispered in Dack s ear. Dack ignored him, bent
down to his foot with the knee-high contraption. Black nylon, black
plastic fittings, lots of Velcro.
Then bald Buddhist Eugene opened his eyes. The judge had
paused and no one was coughing. Prayerful Eugene looked at Dack
and said softly, You are healed. He bowed toward Dack with a
beatific smile.
Order in the court. The judge struck down the gavel.
Spectators, any talking in this courtroom and the bailiff will
remove you.
The healer turned about and left, taking the mysterious inner
smile with him.
Dack, the grace of goodness in his face, tugged the Velcro
straps of the orthopedic boot and wriggled his foot free.
His attorneys, seemingly confused, nearly fell from their
wooden swivel chairs.
Order in the court. I insist.
Don t take that off, our whole case depended on your
permanent injury.
I can walk, Dack said. His face glowed like sunrise. I can t
believe it, I am healed. He walked the aisle and kept walking out
the courtroom with only the slightest of limps.
My neck, shoulders, and back suddenly flushed with joyful
release. That nightmarish moment from five weeks earlier was
thrown away. That spot where I crushed Dack s foot underneath
the wheel of my car had vanished. I had witnessed a healing of
Christ there among us. In the person of Eugene the Buddhist monk.
This was my faith at work.
Gomez turned to me with an intensity in his eyes that wanted to
burn paper. We ve been had, he spluttered. No way you ran
over his foot. Doctor s letter was fake. And those shyster lawyers.
I thought Gomez had taken leave of his senses. He d reassured
me about the gravity of the lawsuit more than once. I thought you
knew those attorneys, you acted chummy with them.
Professional courtesy. He waved his hand dismissively.
Never saw a one of them before today. This is ridiculous. I ve
never, never seen anything as blatant as a healing in the courtroom.
Can you believe it?
I wasn t about to get into discussing faith with Gomez. Still I
had be clear on what I was about. As a matter of fact, yes. If
once in my life, I were to see the miraculous happen in my life, I
sure wasn t ready to deny it like Gomez. My faith hadn t gone sour
on me. I knew that.
Did you see how that Zuster smiled when he first saw the
monk, like they knew each other? It s one big sham. I m going to
move for a dismissal of the award and, with your consent, go ahead
and file charges for possible fraud. Gomez took a deep breath as if
back on the dry land of legalisms, he had unmasked as ordinary the
miracle of minutes before.
I decided to press him. So you really don t think, I said, the
monk healed Dack? The abandoned crutches leaned on the railing
behind the plaintiff s table. This reminded me of crutches left to
hang on the walls of that sanctuary back east where miracles
happen quite often.
No, I don t believe in fairy tales, why do you ask?
Then we disagree. Gomez had this look in his face, both
incredulous and empty. I wasn t about to waste my breath. A
conspiracy of no less than five people, three of which had to be [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]