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He was an aged missionary come from Spain. To be sure, he had arrived in the Philippines when he was in the prime of his youth. But, years, of zealous apostolic ministrations had finally told upon him. Not only was he aged; he was old. Seventy years of age, to be exact.

Today he was ill.

A typical tropical fever was keeping him in bed for some six months now. The doctors had despaired of finding any cure. Everything possible have already been tried to no avail.

The friar was simply doomed.

But, that is, from the point of view of man. There was yet another source of help and mediation. The good religious was a man of faith.

He, therefore, prayed for divine succour.

He remembered the Niño Jesús - He with the rosy cheeks and the golden locks. How many times the good friar had spent hours at the Rosary chapel reciting his beads before the revered image of the Santo Rosario, whilst regaling himself with the charming features of the statuette of the Niño Jesús, cherishingly held by the left hand of the Virgen!



photo from Dennis Raymond


In almost inaudible voice, the ailing Dominican muttered a plea of help, "O sweet Jesus, my comforter and hope, come to my aid and give me back my health for the good of Thy glory and Thy Church. I would still serve Thee in this world; teach Thy truths to the good people of this land. Grant me more years of evangelisation. I must be about Thy business, if only to atone for my countless imperfections and to repay Thee, in my small measure all the favors and graces Thou hast bestowed upon me. Yet, not my will but Thine be done!"

Those by the bedside were able to listen to his prayer. It was to them that the sick man begged for the image of the Niño Jesús of the Santo Rosario. He wanted it brought to him. For he was confident that but he could kiss its feet and he would be cured.

They immediately obliged.

Soon, the little image, richly robed and heavily jewelled, was brought to the sick bed. The venerable missionary, received it with great signs of affection and, with the deepest reverence, deposited a loving kiss on each of its feet.

Then, the friar fell into a coma spell. His brothers placed the Santo Niño on a table beside the bed and departed sill comforted by some speck of hope. The left a lay brother to stand vigil.


It was now midnight. The good friar was still in coma. The lay brother, tired and worn out, had fallen asleep. Then, the sick man felt an extraordinary headache that brought him back to his senses. He feared his end was at hand, inevitably approaching to demand his life away from this world. He called the sleeping lay brother. No response. He was sound asleep. There was no way of waking him up.

The dying priest had no strength even to give forth a sigh of complaint. But, he had energy sufficient to stretch forth his hand and touch the venerated image by the bedside. At the feet of the Niño Jesús was a bunch of flowers deposited there by some kindly soul. He reached for some of the flowers, and, taking away a few petals therefrom, introduced them to his nostrils...

Breathing rather heavily, he soon experienced a great impulse to sneeze. This he did in all earnest. Soon, he experienced his headached gone; the fever had subsided; he breathed easily. To all indications he was cured!

The old friar even recovered his strength of voice and was able to call the still asleep lay-brother, who had not witnessed any of what had just transpired in that small, unpretentious room, where, but a moment ago, the spirit of death had been insistently hovering with a view to reclaiming a victim...

The lay-brother, thinking that the crisis had truly arrived, woke up and was told of the event. He immdediately verified everything and found out that, indeed, the good Dominican friar was quite well.

The next day the convent physicians were called. They expressed great astonishment at the happening and could find no human explanation for the cure. The Rev. Fr. Diego Ortiz, O.P., had been a marked man. He had been pronounced beyond human remedy. Yet, this very morning, right at the room, there was the patient all sound and healthy. There were even no slight indications of convalescence {which characterizes recognized miracles of the Church].

The Father was perfectly cured!

Those were the days of unspoilt faith. The doctors, men of great religiosity, untarnished by the pompous claims of science, unbelieving and haughty, found no qualms in proclaiming it a miracle.

This miraculous incident was later attested before ecclesiastical notaries, for the Rev. Fr. Diego Ortiz, O.P., grateful soul that he was, wanted the event recorded for posterity and in testimony of his sincere acknowledgment to both the Most Holy Virgin of the Rosary and the Blessed Child, Her divine Son, Savior of men, comforter of the afflicted.