This is not a theological story but a metaphorical one, although very real, as it is based on actual events.
That is the story of Zaida. She was born in Casa Blanca, Morocco, and at the age of 8, she came to Brussels. Her youth was similar to that of thousands of Muslim women in Belgium. She studied medicine hard and graduated in gynaecology. For many years she helped white, black and mixed-race women to give birth. She had three beautiful children. It seemed that her life was perfect. Then it was discovered that she suffered from a sporadic disease affecting her kidneys and lungs. The first specialist she saw gave her three months to live.
Zaida went into a deep depression. Everything she had built was falling apart.
Then the first miracle happened; a Jewish neighbour of hers was very fond of her. He decided to donate a kidney so that she could continue to live. He also found a hospital in Ghent that performed transplants.
The operation was a success, and Zaida was slowly recovering. However, her body and soul did not accept the new organ. Perhaps some comments from friends influenced her. They said a Muslim kidney was legal, but not a Jewish kidney, because it was haram (forbidden).
It was thanks to her sister Nadia that Zaida regained her confidence. It was one night in a hospital in Ghent, specialised in kidney transplants. Zaida did not want to eat, and Nadia told her not to listen to the wrong voices; she had to live for her children and help many other unborn children.
You are right," she said, "God wants me to live.
And Zaida began to eat eagerly and recovered quickly.
Then the second miracle happened. A lung became available for transplantation. It was a Flemish, very religious and Christian man who had left it to donate in case he died in an accident. The only condition he made was that the organs he donated should go to a person who believed in God.
The operation was in an Antwerp hospital, and Zaida recovered without any problems.
She lived 11 more years.
After her second transplant, something changed inside her; she became a better person and dedicated all her time to helping others. She founded a gynaecological hospital in Tangier and helped many women safely give birth.
She was so loved that when the Queen of Morocco died, she arranged an urgent trip to her homeland to be buried in a Muslim land. She even renewed her family's expired passport so they could come to the funeral.
Now Zaida is dust, and it matters little that her brain is Muslim, her kidney Jewish and her lung Christian. What matters is that her memory remains with all those who knew her, regardless of her religion.
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