One group hauled a 10-foot Jesus statue into Lorenzo's living room, squealing in delight when they found a clear oil drop dangling from the wooden figure's elbow.
Thousands of visitors, at all hours of the day and night, have made this pilgrimage to Union City: They want to see for themselves the rose-scented oil which for no apparent reason oozes from the hundreds of religious artifacts inside Lorenzo's modest two-story home. Some claim the oil has healed their aches and pains, and landed them better jobs.
Throughout history, Catholics have a rich tradition of experiencing what they consider miracles -- visions of Mary, spontaneously bleeding palms and weeping icons.
Neighbors, however, are irritated at the procession of people who increasingly pack the small residential streets to visit the Lorenzo home. And skeptics are sure this is a hoax, postulating that Lorenzo could be injecting her wood beams with an aromatic lubricant or that she may have leaky oil tanks in her attic. Lorenzo, who doesn't proselytize or take money from her guests, steadfastly maintains the dripping oil is not rigged.
``I knew this was a gift from heaven,'' said Lorenzo, a humble, peppy, Catholic Filipino woman who stands well under 5 feet tall. ``But how could I tell anyone? No one would believe.''
Lorenzo said the oil began flowing from a font -- a small cup used to hold holy water that hangs by her front door -- that she bought on a pilgrimage to Lourdes, France, in 1991. One evening in November 1995, she noticed the water from Lourdes had dried up. The next morning, she touched the inside of the font and felt an oily, sweet-smelling liquid. She thought her husband, Tito, or her 24-year-old son, A.C., had put the oil there. They said they hadn't.
Word spread.
``People just keep coming,'' Lorenzo said. ``It just keeps growing, and growing, and growing, and growing. One person will make an appointment for 20 visitors, and 75 show up.''
The Diocese of Oakland and Lorenzo's place of worship, St. Anne's Church in Union City, have neither investigated nor recognized this phenomenon -- and Lorenzo hasn't asked them to, a criticism skeptics say could signify her desire not to be scientifically examined.
But that doesn't bother the swarms of visitors flocking to her doorstep to ``ooh'' and ``ahh'' at the wonder of the oil. People come to touch it. To smell it. To pray.
Recently, visitors from San Jose, Hercules and Los Angeles sang hymns and played the organ while crammed on folding chairs extending from Lorenzo's living room, to a side office, almost into the kitchen.
Aches, pains said to disappear
Patricia Wu of Daly City said when she rubbed the oil on her 4-year-old son, the mysterious red bumps that covered his body almost immediately began to vanish.
``I'm religious and believe in miracles,'' she said. ``But my husband says, `No, this just happened.' Men are hard to believe in these kinds of things.''
Liza Urbano of San Francisco uttered a prayer for a better job at Lorenzo's house one evening in September. In 24 hours, the senior systems accountant in the city's controller's office said she was promoted to temporary branch manager.
``What's amazing is that this happened the following day,'' Urbano said. ``But it's not the oil, it's your faith in God that does it. Now, I'm constantly giving testimonials to give hope. If this will help more people to go back to the Lord, then why not?''
Ellen Hartog of Union City just comes to smell the oil and ponder its miraculous possibilities. ``You just become in a good mood over here,'' she said. ``It's always makes me feel kind of giddy.''
Not everyone's pleased with the heavenly scents at the Lorenzo's modest home.
``Parking is horrible,'' said neighbor John Hernandez. ``There's constant litter and noise late at night. The neighbors are fed up with it. We're thinking of signing a petition. This area isn't zoned for a church.''
Lorenzo says she is not seeking the limelight, urging that her address and workplace be kept secret. She also fears that the crowds will someday become so large they will overwhelm her.
Joe Nickell, a writer for the Skeptical Inquirer in Amherst, N.Y., said in 30 years he's never witnessed a authentic miracle.
He recalled a case in Quebec about 15 years ago, where a TV crew analyzed the ``blood'' effusing from a Virgin Mary statue. The substance was actually greasy pork drippings, but no one was able to determine where they came from. And two years ago in Dodge City, Kan., the Catholic Church investigated a plaque of Mary that was said to weep blood. Lab results showed the DNA on the plaque belonged to the icon's owner, Margarita Cazares. Many miracle-claimers, he said, are not motivated by greed, but by a desire to bring people closer to God.
Oil, roses religiously significant
Diocese of San Jose spokeswoman Roberta Ward said claims like oil on walls should be taken with ``great caution.''
Oil and roses both have religious significance to Catholics. In the famed 1531 apparition of Mary in Guadalupe, Mexico, the Virgin is said to have filled peasant Juan Diego's serape with roses in the midst of winter. Oil is used to anoint the faithful.
A professional debunker, Nickell said olive oil drizzled on objects can stay fresh and glisten for weeks. During a reporter's two visits to Lorenzo's house, oil was present on the walls and statues, but did not flow on either occasion. And a vial of the oil Lorenzo gave to the Mercury News did not multiply its contents over three weeks' time, as others have claimed their oil samples have.
Oakland Diocese spokeswoman Barbara Flannery said there's nothing wrong with believing in the unexplainable, as long as the messengers don't take money or manipulate minds.
``It's no problem if she's doing this as an individual and not representing the church,'' Flannery said. ``It sounds like nothing that she is doing is outside the teaching of the church. She's probably doing a lot of good.''
While Catholicism promotes the possibility of miracles, investigating such claims is a long, scientific process -- and a rare one. There are at least 3,000 known healing-related miracles, according to the Catholic Almanac. That number is achieved by multiplying the number of saints, which is about 1,000, by three: A saint needs three miracles to be beatified by the Vatican.
Lorenzo, a registered nurse, said she was born devoted to God, and loved going to church while growing up in the Philippines. Friends fear that between working at an East Bay nursing home and hosting the procession of religious visitors, Lorenzo is spreading herself thin.
But Lorenzo steadfastly says her oil stains are there for all to share.
``If I say yes to one, then I say yes to all,'' she said. ``I know I'm different from everyone, I know. But if this is God's work, He will take care of it. ''
Faithful Flock To Home Oozing Miraculous Oil
Throngs of excited Catholics streamed into Cora Lorenzo's Union City home, some clutching crucifixes and Virgin Mary statues in Ziploc bags. All hoped for a miracle.[Original headline: `Gift from heaven' draws crowds to Union City]
Today, strangers from as far away as Australia, Nigeria, Holland, Hawaii and Indonesia drop by, and often stay well past midnight.
Visitors routinely drop off their own religious icons -- wrapped in plastic bags to collect oil -- because of rumors that other holy figurines left in the house also begin to exude the oil. Stacks of letters piled high at Lorenzo's home testify to how the oil healed their headaches, skin rashes, earaches, allergies and arthritis. One letter-writer said the oil made her tumor disappear.
Several other examples of icons weeping oil around the world have been dubbed suspicious, too. But investigators haven't yet found anyone hooking up hoses to make statues drip with liquid, largely because those who boast miracles often won't allow independent examinations of their claims, according to Nickell. Conversely, none of these claims were ever proven to be miraculous either.
San Jose Mercury News / CA | By Lisa Fernandez - February 3 2001
