â€œDo you have your medical insurance card with you?â€
â€œSorry, I left it at home,â€ I said.
The clerk at the desk told me, â€œNo problem.â€ She said that my insurance company would simply bill me later.
â€œLeft it at homeâ€ was true. Actually, completely forgetting my wallet while I was rushing out the door was even truer. I needed to have lab tests done in preparation for a general physical exam and chose a clinic based on how early it opened: 6:00 A.M. I wanted to get my testing completed as early as possible. After all, I had to fast overnight and thereâ€™s only so far I wanted to go into the day without coffee. Yup, Larry Patten, caffeine addict.
But I forgot my wallet. No insurance card. No driverâ€™s license. All I had was my pleasant smile. Would they really take my blood without me being able to prove who I was?
Again, no problem. Soon, I was sharing a room with a woman wearing a white robe who was wielding a really big needle.
â€œGood morning, sir!â€
I wondered if she had any family in Transylvania? Even in the early morning, it was bright outside. But why were the blinds tightly shut in the room? Oh, Iâ€™m sure it was to protect a patientâ€™s privacy. And why did the needle-wielding woman seem so happy, indeed so eager, to remove my blood in the semi-dark room? Oh, Iâ€™m sure she was just a warm and friendly professional.
She stuck the needle into my arm. My precious blood, the â€œriver of life,â€ flowed through the needle and into an attached tube twice the length of my thumb. A whole lotta me quickly filled the container. And then it was over.
And then it wasnâ€™t! She replaced the filled tube with a second one! Whoa. More me gone. The room seemed even darker!
The average person has about 5 liters of blood coursing through the body. But I have no idea what a liter is, so later I looked at a gallon of milk from our refrigerator. Next to the â€œ1 Gallonâ€ label, the container notes, for us metric system-idiots, that there are 3.78 liters. Thatâ€™s a big mess of milk in that container, but another 1.22 liters would have to be added to account for all the blood an average human lugs around.
Five liters means that we have a considerable amount of blood zooming along the arterial highways of our body. When blood exits the heart, itâ€™s traveling at three feet per second! If you do that math, thatâ€™s â€œonlyâ€ 2 M.P.H. But, hey, thatâ€™s three feet per second inside my body!
Our blood represents 7-8% of our body weight. Which means, at around 200 pounds of muscle, fat, and anxiety, Iâ€™m a 14-16 pounder in blood.
Blood matters. Even the ancients knew that.
It is revered. Long ago, the Vikings (and other Germanic tribes) used the blood from butchering meat to sprinkle on the statues of the gods. The action was called blots and that is one of the root words for â€œblessâ€ or â€œblessing.â€
And blood was also viewed with suspicion. In Judaism, laws prevented any consumption of blood (see Leviticus 17:13). It is likely the lawyer and priest that walked by the â€œnear deadâ€ man in the Good Samaritan parable were avoiding possible contamination from blood.
Blood brothers. Blue blood. Bad blood. Blood is thicker than water. Blood money. If it bleeds, it leads. First blood.
How did bloodhounds get their name? The earliest known records of dog breeding (a word linked to blood) were the bloodhounds. According to the Morris Dictionary of Word and Phrase Origins, the â€œbreed was maintained by the monks of St. Hubertâ€™s Abbey in France in the ninth century.â€ Until I learned that, I always thought bloodhounds got their name because they searched by smelling for blood. Nope. Itâ€™s all about good breeding! Good blooding.
In communion, we partake of the blood of Christ. Our Roman Catholic brothers and sisters would say that, once blessed, the bread and wine becomes the living Christ. Itâ€™s called transubstantiation, and that â€œthe inner substantial reality underlying its appearances have been transformedâ€ (or so says my Handbook of Theological Terms by Van Harvey).
But Iâ€™m a Protestant kind of guy. And so the grape juice (not wine, since Iâ€™m also a sane and sober old Methodist!) is what is used to symbolically represent Jesusâ€™ river of life.
Christian tradition, in communion, calls us to remember Jesusâ€™ sacrifice, or â€œatonementâ€ for us. The blood seals that. Celebrates that. Remembers that.
Now, Iâ€™m not too orthodox when it comes to the atonement and Jesus being a â€œsacrificial lambâ€ for God. And yet, I will say at communion, with love and trembling, this is the â€œbody and bloodâ€ for you. For you! It is the gift of life.
The earliest Christians were accused of cannibalism. What were they doing with that â€œlast supperâ€ behind closed doors? And their Jewish neighbors, remembering the laws about blood, couldnâ€™t imagine imbibing blood, symbolically or â€œliterally,â€ in a ritual that spoke of Godâ€™s love.
That was my blood that flowed at the clinic early in the morning. It will be tested and pondered. It will reveal my good and my bad. My â€œspiltâ€ blood will be a prelude to my doctor smiling or frowning about my cholesterol level. My blood, your blood, is unique, a flowing window on our past, present, and future.
I think of the times I raise up the cup, along with the bread, and bless the meal. It is our common, uncommon cup. In the act of sharing, we remember. We remember abundance. And life. And all that flows in and through us.
Thanks be to God, who never ceases blessing.
We are the Holyâ€™s blood work.